What a boring and menial task.

The hills are a patchwork of green made even more varied by the shadows of passing clouds. They are every hue from new spring grass to deep forest pools. Some are more shallow that others, but most have steep paths that take you to one side of their summit and then down to the next valley below. There isn't much to threaten a traveler in these woods, except perhaps the occasional bold bear or wolf pack. For the most part the walk is determined by the walker, it is either relaxing, invigorating, arduous, meditative and every shade in-between. But on the day the travelers found themselves on the eastern edge it was unseasonably warm and the mosquito had been breeding in the what shallow water was left after the spring rains. Once they entered the coolness of the woodland canopy they were immediately set upon by the insects. It seemed that the promise of an enjoyable summer stroll to the west coast was already broken. They swatted the air in futile angry swipes and still were bitten.

Fleur paced on ahead of the hill, in moments soon reaching the top. A guard was putting the last pieces of logs into place for the beacon of light to be finished. The little lady, quiet in her step, popped up behind him and gave him a thumbs up. From his point of view, however, it seemed to be a scary and ghostly hand that formed from thin air. He jumped a bit. Next up was the beacon in the woods, to which the ghost lady arrived at and also checked up on the status of the beacon. This one was more complete than the previous but it looked poorly done, half-assed. As long as it worked though, right? The guard was sleeping anyhow and so long as his work was done, poorly done at that, but done nevertheless, he had all the right to nap. The last beacon was north of the one in the woods, so pacing she did. Fleur made her way to the last one to find the guard in charge of the beacon dead. His work was almost done, but it seemed something prevented him from finishing. The attacks were not those of an animal. Having seen this, Fleur abandoned the scene in fear of her life and decided to report to Lord Servas what had happened. What could have mutilated a human so far, causing such a disgusting and unbearable scene? Flashbacks from her brother's suicide dabbed into her mind.

The body laid like ghoulish mannequins, the esophagus and arteries sticking out like so much corrugated and rubber tubing. It looked as if a special effects team had worked over time for some Friday the thirteenth movie set, but that smell...that smell could only come from recently slaughtered animals. In this case the animals were human and their corpses were still warm, the blood thickening but not yet dried on their waxy skin. Some cases took a while to decide if foul play was involved, but this was murder all the way.

Night had fallen fast upon the land. No more than an hour ago the sky was painted with hues of red, orange and pink, but all color had faded leaving only a matte black canvas with no stars to be looked upon. The darkness was thick and the torched she carried in her right hand hardly lit the path allowing her to see at most an arm’s reach in front of herself, and the black mesh that covered her face only made her sight worse. Other than the darkness and herself all that seemed to exist was the chilly wind thats harsh bite could be felt through her cloak. She could feel the hairs on her arm raised and the bite of the wind had left its mark in the form of small bumps that were tingling on said arms, but its bite was more than flesh deep. Her blood ran cold through her veins and her bones were chilled. The flames of her torch may have looked as though they burned warm, but their heat did not reach the skin. The fading of the sunlight had also meant the fading of the heat. Wintry air swirled around Fleur taking every lick of warmth it could. She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, pulling her coat closed and tucking her chin downward into her pullover. Her breath was now only visible under the sporadic streetlights, the few which still lit up the decaying city. As she walked from the east end to the north, she felt the icy sidewalk beneath the boots for the first time that season. With hours left before dawn and the air smelling of overdue rain, Fleur quickened pace.