Carpathian 16 - Dark Demon

toward the frowning innkeeper and hurried out into the night.
    After the warmth of the inn, the air outside was cold, but she was prepared for that. She walked briskly along the narrow road leading toward the mountain trail. An empty horse cart passed her and she called out asking for a ride. The farmer hesitated and then stopped for her. Natalya caught up the hem of her skirt and ran to catch up before he could change his mind. Most of the locals used the horse carts rather than cars. They were simple vehicles, a wagon on tires pulled by one or two horses. They were used for everything from transportation to hauling great sheafs of hay.
    "Thank you, sir," she said as she tossed in her walking stick and climbed aboard. She settled herself toward the back of the cart, not wanting to make the farmer more uncomfortable than he already seemed to be hauling a strange woman around.
    To her surprise he spoke. Most of the older married men were quite reserved around younger, single women. "What are you doing out this late? The sun has gone down." He glanced nervously around him.
    "Yes it has," she agreed, avoiding the question. "You're out late as well."
    "It isn't good," he said. "Not this night." He kept his voice very low. The concern in his tone was unmistakable. "Better you should allow my wife and I to put you up for the night.
    Or I could take you to the inn." He was looking up at the moon, at the clouds swirling over it, partially blocking the light and it was clear he didn't want to turn back. He shook the reins to speed the horse up.
    Natalya glanced up at the sky and the boiling clouds that had not been there minutes before. The heavy mist obscuring the top of the mountains spread like bony fingers, reaching up toward the moon and lower for the forest. Lightning edged the mist in golden arcs. Thunder rumbled in the distance, centered mainly over the mountain.
    She slid her hand inside her fur vest and touched the handle of her gun. "The weather changed fast this evening." And it wasn't natural .
    "It happens that way in the mountains," the farmer said, clucking at the horse with urgency. "It's best to take cover until things settle down."
    Natalya didn't reply. She had to get to the top of the mountain. Had spies let her enemies know she was close? Were they waiting for her? She turned her attention to the countryside passing by so quickly. Was there movement in the shadows? If so, she had to lead trouble away from the farmer. They had traveled far past the perimeters of the village and well out into the rolling hills where farms dotted the landscape.
    She stayed alert, watching for signs of an impending attack, her senses flaring out into the night, reaching for information. She inhaled, taking the night air deep into her lungs, working to unravel the stories the wind brought her. The wind carried the stench of evil.
    The whisper of movement in the forest. The scent of wolves, restless beneath the moon. Her chin lifted. So be it. She didn't go looking for fights. She was, in fact, usually the first to walk away, but she was tired of being pursued, of looking over her shoulder every minute of every day. If they wanted to fight, she had come prepared, because this time she wasn't going to turn away.
    The fanner pulled the cart onto a narrow lane. The horse slowed to make the sharp turn and Natalya jumped off, waving at the farmer as she hurried away. He called out to her, but she kept going, walking briskly up the hillside toward the timberline.
    The moment she was certain she was out of the farmer's sight, she stripped off the brightly colored skirt and blouse, folding them along with the scarf and tucking them into her backpack. The double Amis sticks went into loops at the back of her belt for easy retrieval. Her entire demeanor changed as she gripped the familiar walking stick. She strode with tremendous confidence, weaving in and out of the hay sheaves until she was clear of the farms. A walking path led up the mountain, a trail for goats, not humans, but she took it because it was the most direct approach.
    She crossed through a field of alpine flowers, the blossoms everywhere as she pushed through the high grasses toward the slope of timber. The moon was almost completely hidden by the darkening clouds, and the closer she got to the forest, the louder the thunder boomed. Flowers and grass gave way to bushes and scrub. Large boulders dotted the slope.
    A few heartier flowers had managed to find their way into