Three Tree (Chapter One) - The Blacktree

I've been told that I need to set the scene.  That is my goal here.  I'm hoping for some honest feedback.

         Simon stood at the door of a small shack, its rough, knotted planks held loosely to a shabby frame.  The door, a skewed slab of pine stained gray, hung ajar, and the light of a small oil lamp flickered from inside.
         Above him, Simon listened to the creaking boughs of the Goerem Tree, one of three left from the ancient forest of Thune.  In those days, ages ago, hundreds of these enormous trees scattered the continent;  their branches growing far beyond the clouds, beyond sight, and beyond exploration.  Now, however, only three remained.  From the Goerem Tree north, it would take nearly half a day’s journey on foot to reach the Errin Tree, the King’s Tree as it was now known, yet the branches of the Trees met in scraping, tangled webs far above the lush grounds of the Valley.
         Simon pushed a trembling hand through his hair, tracing the thin lips of a throbbing gash on his scalp.  He lifted his hand to the moon, fingers black with his blood, and sighed. 
         And now for the best part, he thought to himself as he pushed open the splintered face of the door.           Inside, the shack looked much the same as out; rough, creaking planks for walls, a bare floor that left splinters in a bare foot, and two small cots set against the walls.  The lamp hung from a hook between the two beds, and its light flickered malignly upon the sullen face of Tees, sitting cross-legged upon crumpled sheets with his nose in a book.
         “You’re late,” he said, his eyes hardly leaving the page.
         “Late?”  Simon said with a laugh.  “I suppose the King has mandated a curfew?”
         Tees snapped his book shut and laid it to rest in his lap.  “No.  But you know of our tasks tomorrow.  You and I will be digging rocks for the new corn crop, and I want you to be rested and-”
         Tees gave Simon a sudden look of disgust, then rubbed his eyes before speaking again.  “Where are your clothes?”
         Simon, with hands on hips, looked down at his naked body, and shrugged his shoulders.  “Doesn’t matter.”
         “You were with her again, weren’t you?”
         “Which her?”  Simon said flashing a grin.
         “Blimey, and look at your head.  What’s happened this time?”
         Simon swiped a dribble of blood from his cheek with the back of his hand.
         “I’ll give you three guesses.”
         “He caught you, didn‘t he?  My Stars, Simon!  You were caught with the groundkeeper’s daughter?  Naked and all, at that!”
         “Just lend me some trousers, will you?  And don‘t talk so loud.”
         “No.  I will not be taking part in your mischief, even if it’s lending you my pants.  Is he even done with you?  Or is he beating down every door in the Valley for you this instant?  I doubt you remember-”
         “Tees!  Stop moaning.  You sound like a woman.  Just lend me some trousers and save your lecturing for the ants.”
         Tees’ eyes became angry, narrow slits.  He was nineteen years of age, nearly four less than Simon, with thin cheeks and short hair that curled at the tips.  He was of similar build to Simon, though several inches shorter, and fairer skinned.  “I’ll give you my pants when I am done lecturing.”
         “Fine,” Simon said.  He smiled, crouched down upon hands and knees, and pulled a guitar from underneath the other bed.  He plopped down on the bed,  put his back gently to the wall, and strummed a few ominous chords.
         Tees rolled his eyes and picked up his book.
         Simon played on for several moments before remembering why he was here in the first place.  “Where’s your brother?”
         “Still on duty, I’d guess.  They’ve been going further into the Valley lately.  It’s all very strange.”
         “That is strange.  Any idea as to what he’s wanting to tell us?  It’s not like him to seem so-”
         At that time, a tired looking fellow pushed into the shack.  He paid little attention to the others as he scraped mud from his boots and began the awkward task of unfastening his armor.  He shed a murky green tunic, grimy with dirt and covered in burrs, then put a hand against the door‘s open frame, lifted a leg, and untied his boot.
         When he removed his helmet, Simon realized the unusual state that he was in.  A large, browning bruise covered much of his neck, and cuts of all colors and lengths tracked down his bulky arms.  Once the breastplate was removed, Simon could see several more bruises overlaying the thick muscle beneath.
         “Well you look pleasant, ” Simon said.
          The young soldier shot Simon a lofty glance, his brown eyes flickering within dark, shaded sockets.  Simon admired his friend’s ability to look so stunning, even after a night of trudging and sparring.  Simon was good-looking enough, he figured.  And if he wasn’t, it didn’t seem to matter to the girls.  He was tall, with sharp, green eyes and a dimpled smile that always came half-cocked.  He was lean, as were most musicians, but since Coming of Age, which meant moving out of the Trees and into the Valley, hard labor and heavy lifting had leant him some muscle.
         Finally comfortable, the soldier let his eyes settle on Simon.  He laughed hard, as if he didn’t mean to, and rubbed his eyes in the same manner as his brother.  “My Stars, Simon.  What have you done this time?”
         “Dugahr caught him with Nannette,” Tees said.  “I guess he didn’t have time to grab his clothes.”
         “That doesn’t explain why he is in my bed, and still naked.  Why didn’t you just put on a pair of my pants?  They may be a little loose but they’d save some embarrassment.”
         Tees laughed as Simon realized that he had not even thought about dawning a pair of Tawley’s trousers.  “Well, Tawley, I am not embarrassed.  I actually enjoy going nude from time to time.”
         Tawley looked towards Simon’s waist and shrugged his big, bruised shoulders.  “You might not be embarrassed, but you definitely should be.”
         The brothers shared laughter, while Simon dug in a cedar chest for clothes.
         “What about your news,”  Tees said finally.  “And why the Stars are you so beat up?  You’ve never looked like this, not since joining the ranks.”
         Tawley suddenly became very serious.  Again he rubbed his eyes before settling down beside Simon, who was now dressed and back to picking strings.  “Well, I’ve told you that we have been going further from the Trees lately.”
         “Right,” said Tees.
         “Well that was odd enough at first.  For as long as I can remember, we have always done our regimens on the  Backside.  Now the Moody has us gallivanting off into the Blacktree, from Shadow-Eye to Quarry Lake, and even as far as Belgotha.”
         Simon whistled and Tees sat straighter.  “Belgotha?  What has Moody gotten on?  What difference does it make where you train?”
         “That’s just it.  We haven’t trained in days.  I think we are looking for something.  We walk without speaking, and even at night the Moody doesn’t give orders for torches.”
         “You’re out there at night?”  Tees shook his head with eyes wide.
         Simon played a little more gently now, his brow furrowing deeper with every spoken word.  Blacktree was as untamed and dangerous as any other place in Three Tree.  Mothers went to great lengths to keep children from straying too close to the Valley’s edge, where the thicket loomed and the black trees stood like cheerful merchants, begging for all to “come and see” what disturbing creatures lay waiting beyond.  According to the tales, Blacktree was home to wild things with stomachs that never stopped growling.  The snakes ate the spiders, the hogs ate the snakes, and the bears at the hogs.  Though it was said that in Blacktree, the scheme of who ate who could go either way. 
         People lived their too, but none Simon would ever care to meet.  Outcasts mostly, the people of Blacktree were said to be as untamed as the beasts that surrounded them.  Only the murderous, the dark, and the insane would abide there.  At least in the tales. 
         “What are you looking for?  Has the Moody not told you?  And if you’re not training, why do you look as if you’ve been stoned?”  Tees was more concerned than his face had shown.  Simon could hear the motherly nag coming out in his voice.
         Tawley rested his head against the hard wall.  A whistling wind picked up and swung the door hard enough that Simon expected it to fly off the hinges.  Tawley sighed, rose, and pulled the door shut, turning the small block at its edge so that it locked into place.
         “Listen, the Moody isn’t saying what’s out there.  But something definitely is out there.  The Autumn Festival is in two days, and that’s probably why he’s keeping it to himself.  He doesn’t want us knowing anything until we have to.  If people get word, all of Three Tree will be on alert.  And if that happens, I doubt the festival will bring enough coins to pay for itself, much less the rest of the Season.”
         “So you’ve found nothing, then?”  Simon said.  He did not want the Autumn Festival finding its way into another conversation today.  That was all anyone talked about anymore.
         “I didn’t say that.  But of what has been found, it still hasn’t explained anything more than what I would already expect from Blacktree.”
         “And that is?”  Simon was growing tired.  His head still throbbed from the Dughar’s heavy stick, and Tees was right about tomorrow;  pulling stones was hard work.
          Tawley shook his head.  He reached behind Simon’s back, grabbing at something under his pillow.  His hand returned with a small, leather pouch.  He lifted the flap, dug for a bit, and pulled out a thick pinch of moist tobacco.  With tobacco-stained fingers, and a mouth full of chew, he returned to the pouch, this time fingering at something within a small pocket.
         Simon struggled in the dim light, then recognized the shape of a sharp, bloody tooth, about a quarter as long as Tawley’s thumb.
         “I really don’t know what it was.  We run into it last night.  Something running about like a shadow.  You really couldn’t see it until it looked right at you.  It’s eyes were yellow, like a cat.  Looked like a man, but had fur.  We followed it for a bit until it scrambled up a tree. Then, it got real quiet.  Couldn’t hear it, couldn’t see it.  It fell on me.  Before we hit the ground it was slashing and beating at me with big, cow-hide hands.  I managed a knife, slashed its neck, and that was it.  The Moody let me take a tooth, but kept the body for himself.”
         “For what,” Simon asked.
         “Examination.  I figure he’s taken it on to the King’s Tree.  I asked what it was.  The Moodys’ know everything about creatures, from the tales to the true, and to things I’ve never heard of.  But he didn’t say.  I don’t think he knows.  But it was something of a man.  That I’m sure of.”
         Tawley replaced the tooth, and sent a line of spit through a small hole in the floor.  “Whatever it was, the Moody didn’t like it if he wants to be keeping it.  And were still wandering the Blacktree.  So I suppose there’s more to be found, or else we wouldn’t be looking.”
         By the end of his deliberation, Tawley’s lids had begun to droop low over his dark eyes.  The shack, now oozing smoke from its creases, dimmed as the wick of the lamp grew dry.  Tawley yawned.  “There’s more,” he said at last, “but I’m too tired to tell it.  I am to meet the Moody on the Backside before dawn.”
         The yawn was contagious, and soon Simon felt his own eyes begin to drift.  “You’re right.  Tees and I have a good days work waiting for us.  And a long rehearsal afterwards.  Tees, who is in charge of the corn crop again?  Is it Mums?  If so, I doubt I’ll even show up.”
         Tees cupped his hand around the lamp, a hint of a smile creeping across his face.  “Not Mums,” he said.  “Dughar.  I knew you wouldn’t remember.”  He blew a short gust into his hand, and the room went black.
         “Dughar,” Simon said, fingering the crusty gash on his.  “Blimey.”