Chapter Three: Mountain Bubbles

So one night, Lucas would say, the village headman's idiot son didn't come back. And he'd say that even as superstitious and terrified by their own shadows as these backwards ass people were, the son of the headman was a pretty big deal. So they just couldn't let it go on account of cowardice he figured. They'd got themselves good and worked up, he'd say, and put together a sort of posse, as he would call it, and then they'd make plans to go out and "get them sumbitches" complete with torches, pitchforks, and other gardening and hunting tools. 

Now, as salty as he had gotten about the villagers by that time, Lucas was always quick to point out that they were people also. And he didn't like to see people hurt or loved ones taken away no matter what kind of assholes they might have been, so he decided because of that, he'd tag along and maybe keep an eye out for them from a distance, and stay out of the torchlight. 

Well, it wasn't long before the shits got lost, he'd say. And in their own wood! which would always make Lucas legitimately guffaw. All compassion aside, he savored every chance to see them humiliated. They'd go all charging out into the forest and get a hundred yards or so and then realize they have no idea where they're going. It was hilarious, he'd say. Nobody ever knew where to find the supposed Greensleeves, but they would never stop to consider that and this time was no different. From that point on, he said, they just argued and changed direction so many times, they didn't realize where they had ended up. Even Lucas, who had been enjoying the show maybe too much, wasn't so sure where they were. But he didn't care, he said, he could always last the night and then find his way back in the daytime. It was kind of spooky though that night, he would say. That night, the trees there blotted out the sky, and even the torches eventually got swallowed up by the darkness. The loudest thing was the crunching of the snow, so in that way he had no problem following them. They got quiet as shit when the torches went out. Not so brave without their lights, he'd say, properly disgusted.  

Eventually, right about when those "panty-waisted chickenshits" started to wail and moan about how tired and cold they had gotten, Lucas recognized the crotch in the mountain they were nearing. Once up to the pass, they all started to chatter about this great bubble of soft white light coming out ahead. Soon, Lucas said, smallish gray wood dome houses trimmed in white appeared. They were all a little mystified, him included he said. Saying that the scene looked a lot like soap bubbles- the light and the wood- clinging to the face of the green-black mountain they were hanging on.