“Oy, who goes there?” - the giant yelled.

“Hello, I’m sent from the Black House. I’m spreading the word of God in these lands. I walked through the forest on my way to Rhana but stumbled upon your village.”

“You’re not on the right path then, father. You’ve got at least a couple of days more to get there. But worry not. We’ll make you warm tea and give you something to eat.”

“I don’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble for a man of the faith. Come now.” - he patted the man in black on the shoulder and laughed - “The name’s Oleg, and this is Marta, my wife.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Oleg and Marta. I’d give you my name in return if I still had one.”

The giant man continued to explain where the priest, as he called him, should turn and what path to follow to get to Rhana. The main path went through the whole village, but the houses were stacked close to each other on both sides. It was narrow, with hardly any room to walk by them.

“We can take you in for the night. We have a spare bed, my wife and I. Ever since our son left, the house is all quiet. We’d love the company.”

The rest of the villagers walked around, doing their business. They smiled and waved at the visitor while children ran around them. Two men were patching up one of the houses - they weren’t small by any standard, but the host dwarfed all of them.

They gave him a hot cup of tea, fresh off the fire. The man in black sat down, held it with two cold hands, and sipped slowly. The people here showed him great hospitality, but he hadn’t forgotten his duty. The scent of rage was everywhere, he couldn’t trace it. He’d heard the legends of men who turned into beasts, and one of them was hiding here. He only needed to find out who he was.

“You have a nice idol.” - he said, nodding toward a small wooden figure - “Is that Lada?”

“It is, it is. Do you know of her?”

“I’ve spent a lot of time around here. I know the pagan gods better than some of the natives.” - the man in black said.

“Haha, I’m not surprised. People here carry Lada in their hearts because of the land. Touch the soil when you’re outside, father - whatever you put in it grows. That’s Lada’s work.”

“I didn’t mean to start the conversation wrong, but I’m a preacher, after all. Tell me about your life here. It’s probably hard living this deep into the forest?”

“No, not really. This gnarly fox killed half our chickens last year, but we got her, haha. No trouble since then.”

I don’t wonder why. This place reeks of anger. No wild animal would come near it.

“I’ll carry that sack in the shack. You, too, have to continue talking.” - the woman excused herself and left.

“Have you lived your whole lives here?” - the man in black asked.

“My parents settled here after the wars pushed them out.” - he explained - “It’s not as rich as they were used to, but it’s still a nice piece of land. Well protected, armies rarely come marching through it. Would you like another cup of tea? We baked bread this morning. We can spare a piece or two?”

“You are kind, but I’m good for now. Tell me, how do you get by here?”

“We grow vegetables, and we’ve got some animals. We trade wool and furs for whatever we need in Rhana. It’s less than a week there and back. But enough about us, our lives here are not as exciting as yours must be. Traveling across distant lands, bringing the word of the lord. Tell us about the empire, father. It’s said it has the greatest cities in the world.”

So the man in black spoke to them about the empire and its beauties with a leveled voice. But throughout it all, it felt like something wasn’t right. He couldn’t feel their emotions. The scent of rage was blinding him. It was prevalent in the air. It has soaked everything here.

He couldn’t tell about the motivation behind the giant man’s smile. He couldn’t say anything about the cheery voices outside, speaking a tongue he didn’t know. He only knew one thing, those people couldn’t live off a few animals and potatoes.

He looked out of the window holding the steaming cup of tea in his hand. You could barely see the clouds moving in the sky. He’s buying time with this chatter, he thought. But for what? Maybe they’re trying to get the beast away. Maybe they’re trying to hide it. It’s not that they know who I am. I’ll find it either way if I’ve found their village.

Oleg knelt to gather seeds spilled from one of the bags, and his shirt revealed a fresh scar on his neck. Right at the spot where the man in black saw one of the hunters hit the beast.

He had found his prey.