CHAPTER 4. THE SWAMP PEOPLE
Despite Toby’s enhanced senses, the forest path was hard to follow at night. Mud oozed under what seemed like stable piles of leaves, pulling at his boots with slimy tentacles of muck.
The lights came closer.
He remembered a warning from Gramble Edward.
“If you find people, be prepared,” the elderly man had said, pushing his small, round glasses farther up on his nose. “Here we celebrate who you are. But people are strange creatures, Toby. You have studied about racism and groups who shunned or even hurt others because of differences. So take caution. Scout them out before you show yourself.”
Though Toby was prepared, he couldn’t imagine how it would feel to being treated that way. He crept low, training his flashlight beam on the ground to watch for twigs and brush before each step.
The procession moved slowly. The people were dressed in garments constructed from swamp moss. Hair woven in round, basket-like shapes rested on the shoulders of men and women, shades of umber, silver and white advertised varying ages. Beards hung down almost to the men’s waists, hairs curling to meld with their outfits. Toby was fascinated, having never seen so much facial hair except on films. The people marched in silence, resolution covering their tanned, strong faces.
A girl stumbled along in the center of the crowd. She wore a pure white dress, in stark contrast to the rest of the group. Golden hair spilled down her back. She could not hold a torch, since her hands were bound together in front of her.
Why was she a prisoner? Toby’s heart beat faster; the girl must be in danger. No weapons were visible, but if discovered he’d be overpowered in an instant. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead despite the cool evening. He didn’t dare wipe them off. Perhaps if he followed the group he could find a way to help the girl.
He stayed back while keeping the group in sight. A twig cracked under his foot and he froze. Panic welled up in him then dissipated when no one turned.
The group followed a well-worn path. They crossed a bridge made of logs and rope, the bound girl stumbling as the structure swayed. The people watched her struggle to regain her balance, but no one offered a hand to assist her.
The procession came to a sudden halt. Coils of serpentine brilliance stretched before the leader of the group. Calmly and without a sound, the man found two sticks and gently moved the snake to the bushes on the side of the path. The march continued.
Small, stifled sounds drifted over the people’s shuffled footsteps. Was the fair-haired girl crying?
The path widened, then split in two, circling a large swamp. The glossy, black edges seeped past the view of the torchlight. Patches of slime floated on the surface of the water. A dock made of logs and rope jutted out towards the center, with extra sections of rope coiled to the side. Chunks of rock served as a crude staircase to reach the edifice.
The people placed torches on stakes set a few feet apart. The flames made eerie shapes as they flickered in the breeze. The leader approached the girl. When he turned his face, Toby glimpsed an ancient scar that slashed through his cheeks and lips, disappearing under his white beard.
The man grabbed the girl’s bound hands and jerked her towards the dock. She screamed and tried to pull away and a younger man yanked her back and slapped her face. The sound echoed through the swamp.
Help her. Toby watched, his useless hands gripping branches at his sides, while the men forced her up the steps and to the end of the dock. The girl’s shoulders slumped and silent tears coursed over the bright red mark on her beautiful face.
The scarred man raised his hands high in the air. His wild eyes glowed in the lights.
“Oh, Natura,” his voice warbled.
“Natura,” the crowd echoed.
“Most beautiful Goddess,” the man continued.
“Giver of good and terrible things.
Milk sours early,
trees bear bitter fruit,
our children are fitful.
We respect your wishes.
The Tiend has come.
We give you this child.
Take her into your body
to nourish your soul.
Take her, and we humbly pray for favor.”
Images of human sacrifice flashed through Toby’s mind: Incas’ offerings of life and limb, stone alters of the druids. He could not deny the horrible truth: this girl would die. Even while he grabbed the small penknife, his spirit protested the very idea of plunging it into living flesh. Could he hurt someone, even to save another?
The men grabbed the girl’s bound wrists and lowered her into the water. The action seemed absurd. No sharp weapon, no blood shed.
Water lapped at the girl’s knees, harmless at first, but while she struggled, her body sank further into the mud.
“Please don’t do this!” She held out her bound hands before the crowd. “Why would your goddess want me? I’m just a girl! Please help!”
The oldest man turned and took his torch down from its stake. The rest of the crowd followed his motion in a single, swift abandonment and filed back down the original path.
Toby wondered if their action was ceremonial or if the people were too squeamish to watch the death of the innocent girl. Whatever the reason, the opportunity surpassed all hope. While his heart screamed “forward!” his brain told him to wait. He counted to one hundred, then snapped on his flashlight and crept to the edge of the pit.
The girl’s head hung down. Tears dropped from the end of her nose and into the mud, a foot below her chin. She hummed to herself and swayed a little, perhaps in a small attempt to be brave. His flashlight beam touched her face.
She looked up, blinking. Her eyes landed on his ears, and her mouth fell open.
“What are you?” she gasped.
Toby was too busy to answer. He darted over to one of the extra pieces of rope by the platform and hacked it down with his knife, then selected a sturdy tree and tied the rope around the trunk.
For a moment he hesitated; he hated baths and this plunge promised to be nasty.
“Please hurry!” yelled the girl. The mud passed her shoulders now.
He gathered his courage and jumped into the brackish water-muck.
“Cold, cold!” he sputtered.
Except for the horrible stench, pushing through the mud was like wading through Gramble Shana’s bread dough. Toby exerted every bit of his strength to pull free and move forward, step after slogging step.
The girl’s frantic eyes begged him to go faster. Speaking would mean a mouthful of mud at this point.
Toby finally made it to her side and dug down into the muck. There! He felt her fingers now, jerked her hands up and out of the slime. Hurry, hurry! He tried to wipe away mud, tried to see where rope ended and skin began-- almost impossible. His tiny blade sliced through and she was free.
He tugged the rope over, with no breath to explain what the girl needed to do. Fortunately she pulled her hands up and over her head without being prompted and he pushed the rope through the grime to make a loop around her waist.
With the rope as friend and guide, Toby’s trip back to shore was much easier. He heard a loud slurping sound behind him as the swamp protested the loss of its victim.
Toby hauled himself out and braced his feet against a rock. His small arms strained to help pull the girl through the sludge since she was twice his size. At last, she collapsed on the bank.
Even while Toby fought to catch his breath he listened. The swamp people might return at any moment. He took the girl’s hand, white and slender under a layer of mud. “Lady,” he said, for he knew no other name, “We are not safe here. If your people return, we might end up back in the pit.” He looked down at his ruined clothes. “I don’t think I would like that much.”
“I have a camp nearby with supplies.” His voice quivered in excitement. Despite his fear he was thrilled to be talking to someone his own age.
The girl lifted her head, staring at him through pale eye
lashes dotted with mud. “You can talk, Kitty Boy?”
Toby drew himself up to his full three foot height. “I am not a kitten boy,” he said indignantly. “I am a Trilby. My name is Toby. May I ask your name?”
“I am Mia. Why do you have cat ears?” The girl’s eyes shone in his flashlight.
“Why do you keep asking me silly questions when we need to get away from here?” Toby pulled Mia’s hand a little more forcefully. “Please get up!”
“You did such a good job rescuing me. Really, I don’t have much choice.” Mia turned back for one more look at the pit. “Natura can hungry tonight. The swamp people will just have to live with ruined crops and crying children.”
“Come this way.” Toby led her to the path. Thanks to Gramble Colleen’s etiquette classes, he knew it was rude to stare, but found it hard to keep his eyes off the girl. She seemed so brave and strong. The grambles would love Mia “Your life is precious. If this goddess demands your death I don’t think I like her very much.”
A choking noise startled him. He turned to find Mia was sobbing into her muddy hands. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
“I can’t believe you’re being so nice to me!” She searched in vain to find a clean bit of dress to wipe her face. “No one has cared about me since my parents died. The swamp people said I should be honored to be chosen for sacrifice and sometimes I thought I might be better off dead. My life was so miserable.”
Toby wanted to wipe her tears away, but his hands and clothes were covered in grime. “You don’t have to cry anymore. Your life is going to be different now.”
Toby switched off his penlight. The smallest beam would be noticed on a night like this, and he would have to rely on his heightened senses to reach safety. Mia could see almost nothing and clutched at his arm when she stumbled. They made slow progress through the brush.
“How far is your camp?” the girl asked after tripping for the tenth time.
“I followed the procession for at least half an hour.” He pulled a thorn bush out of his tail. “So we still have a while to go.”
“Won’t we run into snakes or alligators?”
Toby remembered the sharp scent encountered earlier. “I can smell any dangerous creatures before they come too close.”
“Oh.” Her voice grew more respectful. “How helpful.”
“Thanks.” He was glad it was dark so she couldn’t see his reddened cheeks.
With every step, Toby imagined the torches flooding through the trees, with a tide of people rushing in to take Mia away. But nothing disturbed them except for mosquitoes. After an agonizing hour and a few false turns, they found his little camp.
After the encounter with the swamp they both needed the warmth, so Toby built a fire. He glanced at Mia’s pinched face. She looked hungry. He could fix that right away. With tired, rope-burned hands he pulled himself back up the tree to retrieve his pack.
When he returned, Mia was by the stream. Her hands and face were clean. One of his survivor blankets served as a robe while she scrubbed the sacrificial dress.
“I wanted to kick it into the underbrush and leave it forever.” She hung the cloth over a branch. “But then I would have nothing to wear.”
Moonlight glittered on the foil blanket and her hair flowed like golden fire down her back. She looked like a fairy queen to Toby. He thought the dress looked lovely, but he said nothing. Having no experience with girls his age he felt arguments, even when complimentary, should be kept to a minimum.
Toby handed her some dried fruit and beef jerky. “Here’s something to eat. Sorry it’s just camping food.”
With timid hands the girl took a handful of dried apples and began to chew them slowly. “These are good! What do you call them?”
“Apples.” Toby was surprised. “They come from a tree. My Gramble Shana has an underground orchard.”
“I know fruit comes from trees.” Mia grabbed another handful. “I’ve just never tasted it like this.”
Toby smiled. “Neither have I. My grambles helped me make it for my trip.”
“Who are your grambles, anyway?”
“My guardians. We live in a cavern not too far from here.”
Mia’s eyes widened. “A cavern, like where the sprits live?”
“I suppose you could say we have spirits.” Toby thought about the Voice. “I’m not sure. Anyway, if you want, I’ll take you there after my adventure.”
Mia scrunched up her face in thought. “Are your Grambles nice?”
“The kindest people in the world,” said Toby.
“Do they sacrifice people?”
Toby pictured Gramble Lenora’s horrified face at such a suggestion. “Never, ever.”
“All right, Toby, I’ll go with you.”
“We should get some rest.” Toby gestured toward his tent. “You can sleep in there; I’d rather be outside anyway.”
“Thank you, Toby the Trilby.” Mia smiled as the unfamiliar word rolled off her tongue. She disappeared into the tent.
Despite his exhaustion, Toby lay awake for a long time, staring up at the wonderful stars he had waited so long to see. How could those swamp people be so willing to destroy an innocent life for their own gain?
He remembered another picture from his favorite book. The wonderful man who had played with the children hung from a wooden cross, blood flowing from many wounds in his body. The book said he was a sacrifice for the sins of the world. Toby often stared at the man’s sorrowful face, amazed anyone could be so selfless.
The Voice came back to him then. “You have a purpose,” the Voice said. “You will find me.”
Then it was gone, leaving the noises of the swamp in its place.