Prefab Story - The Green Stone

 

She came stumbling out of the cave mouth with her stupid friends, clutching her fist tight to her chest. They stopped there among the dark mossy tumble of stones, as the nearby trees seemed to sag exhaustedly towards them, framing them in his view. Matthew sat watching from his chosen spot, just in the shadows. He was entirely confident that he would not be seen from here. After observing them earlier, it had not been difficult to identify her as the primary threat within the group. Sure, the tall blonde man was strong and imposing, and her bashful friend Penelope seemed physically capable. But no, the one who identified herself as “Vesta” was the one to watch. She was intelligent.

They spoke to each other, too distant to hear well. Vesta hunched slightly, wincing when Penelope touched her shoulder. Matthew saw blood upon Penelope’s hand as she took it away. But then, Vesta raised her clenched fist and opened it. Sitting in the middle of her palm, framed against her dark skin, there it was. A bright green stone. She had found it within. Damn it. He had only just deduced that it might be here, and suddenly this woman, a visitor from afar who claims to be here to record wildlife, she finds it? By chance? No. It must have been her objective.

The group began to walk away from the mouth of the cave, down the path that lead here. Matthew froze still, making sure not to rustle any leaves or give any indication of his presence. They walked down the path, their feet scuffing on the soft moist bed of pine needles, and began heading back towards civilization. They were getting closer, approaching somewhat diagonally as their path led closer to his hiding spot. He began to hear their voices, and Matthew listened very carefully.

“... Sure? The wound looks painful, and you appear swollen upon your head my friend.” The one called Penelope continued to look over her friend with concern, her mouth making a tight hard frown as she walked behind her leader. She leaned forward, and gingerly touched the back of Vesta’s head.

“Ouch! Look, I made sure to check myself after the fall, I was quite thorough. Clearly, I am well enough to be thinking straight, and because of that I worry less about the head wound. As far as the cut on my shoulder, with basic attention and time I am confident it will heal.” She kept her eyes forward as she talked, moving along at a good pace as she ignored the concerns of her friend. “I need to figure out what this thing is. It was in the palm of a skeleton. Long dead it seems, and wearing interesting garb. Or what was left of it.”

They trudged onward, reaching the spot on the path that lead closest to his hiding spot, then just passing him. Then they stopped suddenly, and Penelope’s fawning hands almost made contact with the swollen back of Vesta‘s head again as she caught herself. The big blonde guy in the back of the group ambled to a stop as well, absently smiling at his surroundings. His simple face turned in Matthew’s direction, and he could feel the man’s gaze approaching him as though it was the beam of a searchlight, about to illuminate him. Matthew huddled under his bed of ferns and hanging moss, as a jolt of adrenaline pulsed through him. The big oaf’s eyes seemed to stop on Matthew’s for a moment, the slight, contented, stupid smile never leaving the man’s face. Then his gaze continued.

Vesta straightened and took stock of her surroundings. “Should we continue back to Mrs. Eld? I think it’s safe to say that it wasn’t her dead husband stealing sheep.” She sighed slightly. “Not that I had ever truly entertained that notion.” Her hand seemed to unconsciously approach her lower lip, her finger brushing lightly against it. “But I am very curious about this stone. Perhaps a jeweler in town would be able to determine its origin. What do you think?” She turned to Penelope, who seemed taken aback by the sudden request for input.

“Um... Well we told the lady we would find out what was happening. I think it is important to keep your word, and as such I think we should handle her situation first. I also don’t see why this stone compels you so much, if it has value then it could be sold, then we could continue towards our destination after we resupply.” She looked at Vesta expectantly.

“I don’t want to sell it; it clearly has some kind of historical significance. But you’re right. We should finish our business with Mrs. Eld first.” Vesta turned again suddenly, and resumed her march with the same apparent determination as before.

In short order, they were well away from Matthew’s position. Finally, he stirred, stretching his shoulder forward and his neck from side to side. He stood up, and arched his back to lessen the strain he felt in that region. Reaching down and dusting off his simple robes, he picked up his walking stick once again. He turned toward the path they had taken, looking after them with hard eyes. He knew where the old woman lived.

The sky was dimming by the time he had the cottage in his sights. He had made sure to take a different path than they would have, and was certain he had not been seen as he made his way here. The windows of the short, ancient house were alive with a yellow glow, and within the small fenced area attached to the house roamed several sheep. They stood vacantly, grinding their jaws in a sideways-circular motion as they attempted to digest their dinner of grass. Just behind the sheep was a trough, and a small shed. A decent hiding spot, if he wanted to get closer to wait for them to fall asleep.

Matthew hunched forward, and began to lightly run towards the sheep pen as quietly as possible, keeping his eyes on the window the whole time. Nothing stirred inside, and he quickly reached the wooden fence of the sheep’s enclosure. Placing his hand on the topmost beam of wood, he vaulted over, and then ducked behind the shed. Wiping away a bead of sweat as it approached his eye, he peered around the corner and towards the house again. A sheep stood there, still chewing sideways and now making eye contact with him.

“Beh-eh-eh-eh" It said unhelpfully. Matthew frowned at it. Hopefully he would be able to hear something helpful from the house. Through the window overlooking his current hiding spot, he heard the sound of voices. He tilted his head, straining and moving back and forth slightly; as though that could somehow improve his ability to hear. They were there, that was certain. He heard the stern, straightforward voice of Vesta, and the halting, timid voice of her companion Penelope. Bah. He simply couldn’t tell what was being said from here. Keeping low, he sidled up to the house, pressing himself against the wall. Now here, he was able to make out another voice, trembling and small. The old woman.

“You are sure that it isn’t Gerald? She croaked. “After Timmy trampled him, I knew he would hate the sheep. He was a sheep farmer but then he was killed by a sheep. I just know he’s turning in his grave, but I don’t know how else to live.”

The voice of Vesta chimed in. “Ma’am, I’m sure that your husband would not blame you for continuing to keep sheep. We quickly determined that it was a creature of some kind that had taken your sheep, and we tracked it into the hills. It was... A mountain lion. We found it’s lair, and I am confident that it is gone now.”

Hah. Too afraid to say what it really was? Matthew thought. Suddenly, he heard heavy footsteps approaching. Looking to his side, he saw that he was hidden right next to a door. Shit! Why did I not pay attention to that? The door slammed open, swinging towards him. Matthew pressed up against the wall, trying to hide himself within the shadow of the open door. Striding through it came the tall blonde man. He took several steps forward, his back to Matthew. He looked lazily from left to right, until his gaze seemed to settle on a corner of the fence. He walked up to it and reached towards his belt. What is he going to do? Strangely his hand seemed to pause there. His back still to Matthew, his other hand joined the first, and then a torrent of water rushed forth, splattering against the fence post. Oh.

“Do dee-do dee-do dee-do.” He sang happily, moving his hips back and forth, painting the post with his urine. “Dooo dee-doo dee-doo dee-doo.” Matthew saw that as he had loosened his belt, the small pack attached to it had sagged open, and suddenly Matthew saw his objective: the stone! Of course he had it, they had this guy carry almost all of their supplies, and they didn’t understand its true value! This might be his only opportunity.

Matthew began moving towards the big man, very slowly and very carefully. The sound of his piss hitting the post was loud enough that he felt confident that he could be quiet enough. It practically sounded like a geyser was erupting from him. He closed the distance, his eyes fixed on the gem, illuminated still in the light spilling from the open door. “Hmm hm-hmm hm-hmm hm-hmm.” The oaf hummed as Matthew got close. It was going to work!

“Hmm?” Suddenly the stream of urine stopped. Matthew looked up to see the man’s head turned slightly looking down. Matthew followed his gaze, and found it resting upon a dark shape on the ground. Matthew’s own shadow.

Wham! The big guy turned with surprising speed, his closed fist spinning with him and connecting with the side of Matthew’s face, hard. Matthew felt the world jolt around him, and for half a second, he didn’t know where he was. He tasted blood in his mouth.

“Darsha!” The oaf shouted in some strange pointless language. “Bokyul floondgar?!” He was making eye contact with Matthew, still crouched, now looking up angrily at his sizeable opponent. The big man seemed to have asked a question. But Matthew didn’t know what he said.

Matthew stood up straighter and angrily began “Give me th-” The man’s fist suddenly sprung forward again, impacting Matthew’s stomach like a cannonball. He felt the wind rush from his lungs, and his feet lift from the ground as he was pushed back several feet from the force of the blow. He landed still standing, gasping for breath. Just then, the other figures appeared in the doorway.

“Kurg! What the hell, who is that?” Rang out Vesta’s voice. Matthew turned to look at her, wheezing as he tried to suck air, looking at her hatefully.

“Darsha!” Said the big man, apparently called Kurg.

Gasp! Finally, Matthew felt the air rush back into his lungs. He looked at her for one more moment, promising himself that he would get the stone eventually. Then he turned, jumped over the fence to his side, and ran as fast as he could. He didn’t hear pursuers, but the last thing he did hear was the voice of Penelope.

“Who the hell was that?”