Loch

The forest was painted a myriad of greens from soft to sharp, dark to light. Ancient trees with broad leaves stood in harmony, their boughs crowded with birds, squirrels, and the odd fae-creature. A soft song threaded throughout the forest’s belly, its tone clear and warm, a sigh of beauty that cascaded through the air like a litany of life.

A young child meandered about, her bare feet crushing sweet-smelling grasses and moss, her ivory dress splotched with mud. She wore an expression of confusion and her lower lip trembled as she fought back a torrent of tears. Her crimson eyes flicked from tree to tree.

She was looking for something.

It was late afternoon. Mellow sunlight fell through the cracks within the forest’s dense canopy and lit on the girl’s tresses, the ends of which nearly reached the forest floor. Her curtain of hair was a shadowed black that swallowed the sun’s essence, a sharp contrast to her pale skin.

One of her feet found a stone, and she consequently stumbled. Pain flared through her and the dam holding back her tears finally shattered; her sobs broke through the forest’s music and startled a plethora of birds from their roosts.

The sunlight dimmed. The trees of the forest groaned as they leaned inwards. Branches snapped from the movement and tumbled to the ground. Tiny animals hastened from the weeping girl and the disapproval of the trees.

A great beast, however, worked against the tide of fleeing creatures, his scaled mass sliding between tree and bush, his claws raking the soil. His forked tongue tasted the air and he sneezed.

The girl continued to sob, her tiny hands pressed against her eyes.

Once the dragon reached the child, the light was nearly gone from the forest and the trees were fully angled towards the weeping girl. The dragon flicked his tail in annoyance.

Mind your business, he told the trees. I will halt her tears and make your music return.

Each tree shuddered in response. Loosened leaves showered upon the dragon and the girl. The forest returned to its regular state and the sunlight slipped back in against the darkness.

Child, the dragon admonished. Stop this weeping at once. Have you no inkling where you are?

The girl, utterly oblivious to the moody shift of the forest, lowered her hands and sniffled. No fear crossed her face at the sight of the dragon. She looked at the beast, at his azure scales and citrine eyes, and smiled, revealing pointed fangs.

He regarded her, bemused. What manner of girl was this? She smelled like no human he had scented before, but rather like metal and dust.

“I’m hungry,” she mumbled. A hiccup bubbled from her throat and she giggled.

How did you get here? The dragon asked. He noted, distantly, that the music of the forest had resumed, its notes only somewhat stilted from the interruption.

“I’m hungry,” she repeated.

A small mouse, left behind by its fellows, scurried from underneath a low hanging curtain of moss, its little nose twitching in fear. The child snapped her gaze to the rodent and moved faster than the dragon expected. He blinked as she held up the squirming mouse in victory.

And then she opened her mouth wide and inhaled.

The mouse continued to struggle for a moment, squeaking in absolute terror, but as the child continued to draw in air, something changed. The mouse became more sluggish. Its sharp cries diminished into nothing.

And then an odd essence, its appearance similar to the smoke that hovered over fire, drifted out from the mouse’s body and the little creature went limp. The smoke floated into the child’s mouth and she swallowed.

She dropped the mouse and its body thumped onto the earth. She hiccuped once more, satiated.

The dragon stared.

A spirit-eater.

Alarm coursed through him, but he remained calm. She was only a child. He could easily dispose of her; he was the warden of this forest, after all. He stepped towards her and she beamed at him.

“My name is Lilian,” she told the dragon. Her hands gripped the filthy skirt of her dress and she curtsied. “I am four. My birthday was yesterday.”

He took another step towards her, his heart hammering. There were very few spirit-eaters left in this world. Most of them had been hunted down and killed by drowning. They loathed water, any form of it, as it was the only weapon that worked against their kind.

Luckily, the dragon was allied with water. He readied himself to call on the stream nearby. It would be enough to flood the girl’s lungs.

The dragon halted. She was staring at him with shining eyes, complete trust in her gaze.

“My Mama said it’s safe here,” she told him. “What is your name?”

Whispers curled through the boughs of the trees. They breathed in the dragon’s ear; end her, now. She will mature into a far more powerful enemy, one able to eat even the most difficult spirit.

But the dragon found himself charmed by Lilian’s plump face.

She was only four. A toddler. She had barely tasted life.

Her crimson eyes held him spellbound.

My name is Loch, his name fell from his mind unbidden.

“Loch!” She crowed and clapped. “Will you protect me?”

I—he paused. No, he needed to take her life, not protect her. Spirit-eaters, no matter the age, were detrimental to the health of the world, let alone his forest. They consumed every spirit they came across. The only reason she had not gone after him yet was because he was far too strong for her to devour.

He took another step. He was quite close to her by now, his sinuous body dwarfing hers. She laughed in delight and held out a small hand, pressing it against his nose.

“You’re warm,” she smiled.

Loch’s resolve crumbled. He couldn’t do it. He pressed into her touch.

I’ll protect you, he promised her.

Her eyes flashed. The smile curving her lips turned wicked.

A weight landed on Loch’s back. He turned his head and saw a slim woman perched upon his scales, her hair just as dark as Lilian’s, her eyes just as red.

Fear lurched through him. He desperately pulled at the nearby stream, but he was too late. The woman had already placed both of her hands on his back. Her painted lips parted and she began to inhale.

Loch was paralyzed. He attempted to move, but an invisible vise held him still. The music of the forest halted in a jangle of notes and the trees quaked in terror. Darkness rushed in, cloaking Loch’s sight. All he could see was the gleaming gaze of the woman.

A wrenching pain coursed through him, and then he knew nothing.

His body crumpled. The adult spirit-eater slipped gracefully from his cooling back, her throat still working as she swallowed Loch’s spirit. She walked towards Lilian, her dark dress sliding along the forest floor. The trees around them screamed, and the song of the forest began once again, this time loud and frantic.

Lilian took the hand the woman offered her.

“Mama,” she said.

Mama bent and dropped a kiss on Lilian’s head. “Well done, my child.”

The pair turned and walked away from Loch’s empty body, the forest still screaming, the trees straining towards them in fury, leaves showering from the branches, insects writhing through the air, deafened by the cacophony of sound the song of the forest exuded.