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Fields adjacent to the Wyzenwood, ~2pm Saturday May 4th, 1771

Those that had been combing the fields were summoned: they waited around the borders of the dread woodland with unease, some with clear sorrow. Kit Meaker, who had brought them, had gained a hard, unhappy look, and it might be assumed the Durbins had not taken the news so well. Buxom Nell Babcock, the wicker-workers' daughter, had taken the tale in blank-faced but needed assistance from Dr. Lovelace when she got to the spot it was thought Polly had been killed, abruptly crumpling to a ball in a partial swoon. The Doctor had to get people to move away and prevent them singeing her hair or pinching whatever flesh their version of the folklore thought best, and passed a good ten minutes getting her able to breathe and focus again, much to the poor girl's embarrassment.

Mary Whitlock, one of Samuel's sisters, had meanwhile proffered some news of further tracks found over amongst other trees during the search, though these seemed fresher than the walking man's and likely to be poachers or other night wanderers. Someone else had found an old half-penny and another a lost clothing-pin so long astray it was a mass of copper-blue fliagree at the shaft, which attested to the thoroughness of the attempt, at least. The cart brought over from Tom Bees' place still stood in the lane, horse waiting, but Jim Stone was nowhere to be found.

At length John Collins checked his watch. "About time we should spread out around the wood and start making noise," he said, looking around at those gathered.


[[edit: more information on who's where provided; bump. Feel free to IC rhubarb amongst yourselves whilst waiting for action here.]]
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:23, Tue 01 Mar 2022.

Back from the village, Maggie joins the cluster of neighbors standing about. When Jim Stone is mentioned, she says, "Likely he went home t'get a change o' clothes, he was that wet an' mucky. Lucky bog didn't swaller him whole. 'Tis a treacherous patch, indeed it is." She says so several times.

When John Collins calls for noise, she lifts her harsh voice, calling out: "Hallooooo! Halloooo! Hoy-hoy-hoy!" She repeats the call at intervals as the cluster spreads out along the margin of the Wyzenwood, always mindful not to be the closest to the reaching brambles and branches.

Andrew gave out several sharp whistles in the manner his father had taught him when he’d first taken the youngster out to hunt. The carpenter studied the dark tangle of woodlands ahead, anxious for any sign of the missing.

Some clapped, some sang and most simply called out every few steps, the sound dropping like pebbles thrown into the great sinkhole of quiet in the Wyzenwood. Sam's sister headed uphill and around for the back of the place, though most were too aware that that would be starting widdershins, no matter how things progressed later, and few followed. Mistress Criddle came up to join those going along the bottom edge, wary as a doe and beautiful in Indian print-cotton, and beat upon the biscuit-tin she'd brought as an excuse to see what was going on (the biscuits she shared were shortbread from a marchpane base, and very good),

[[Team Search and Rescue, are we heading up the way and round the back or along vaguely towards Yendale farm? Doctor, are you with us?]]

Martin walked a spell of the periphery of the forbidden forest, thinking of how to make noise when a song came to him. He'd heard many songs on the ocean, and began to sing some of those jaunty tunes as he made his way along the outskirts, hoping to draw the attention of anyone who might hear.

OOC: Still here, just slow. Apologies!

Maggie continues her cry, moving along amongst the others, careful to get no closer to the shadowed forest.

"Hallooo! Hallooo! Hoy-hoy-hoy!!"

Among the few that had followed Mary Whitlock around against the sun were the Doctor and the carpenter, with Maggie Yendale up ahead. Young Mary carried her eldest son on her hip, calling things like "Sam? Sam! Master Bees! If ye can hear us, this way!" at intervals. Her skirts were pretty but unlucky in this context, too: a pale green light wool that stood stark against the upper fallow ground that was mostly bare earth.

They had risen up around the top of the hill and perhaps a third of the way around the Wood when there came a distant plunging and thrashing as of rapid motion, hopefully a young man or two coming closer at a run.

Mrs. Whitlock stopped where it seemed loudest and called out more urgently, little Levi putting his hands over his ears at the noise: "Sam! Master Bees! This way! This way is out! Sam!"

A bit bothered at proceeding widdershins around the Wyzenwood, Maggie nevertheless continues her cry, striving to keep in proximity to Andrew Sexton. Where Mary stops, Maggie stops also, peering toward the hopeful noise and shouting loud as she can: "Ha-a-all-oo-oo-oooo!"

The crashing grew closer and a stumbling silhouette appeared amongst the brambles. Mary waved. "S...Sam! Up here!"

Samuel Hartman staggered out of the Wyzenwood as though pursued, his hair and neckerchief askew and his stockings in flinders. Immediately after him came three hares in a close formation which split up as soon as they passed the border of the Wood, each body arcing away in a blur of speed into the field above, passing no more than a couple of paces away from the onlookers.

Sam staggered to a halt. All else in the Wyzenwood was silence.

"Oh good! Sam, what has happened? You look a bit worse for wear, I daresay. Where has Master Bees gotten himself to?"

Sam had to take a seat on a nearby log, catching his breath after such an intense chase.

"I heard Master Fox just sprinting through the woods, and Master Bees was chasing him. I chased Fox as well, and helped bring him to the ground. After that, we tried to get some sense into Master Fox, but we saw the stag, so all of us hid. It started to threaten us, so all of us began sprinting. Master Bees had tripped a little behind me, but when I saw him, I was already well ahead of where he was and I wouldn't have been able to get back to him - it would have simply been too close a call for us all to escape. I'm sure he's fine, along with Master Fox - they'll probably be a little bit behind."
This message was last edited by the player at 20:16, Tue 15 Mar 2022.

Mary set her son down and he ran over, still awkward in his first pair of breeches and shoes. He stopped, rather than greeting his uncle properly, and reached out to tug at a mangled strip of stocking. "Uh-oh," he said seriously, then looked up at Sam with very round eyes, "-did the stag come scratch you, with 'is horns?"

Nothing currently seemed to be running in the Wyzenwood, which had settled back to its usual silence as though nothing had ever been running there.

Sam glanced down at his ankles and saw the torn up stockings. "No, I didn't think he had gotten me, or any of us in the wood. I think that was from thorns and brush more than anything."

Levi digested this information a moment. "Did you see the witch?" he asked. He then plopped down at Sam's feet and started fiddling with one of his shoe-buckles.

"Are you all right, Sam?" Mary asked with more concern, coming closer with dislike for her child sitting so close to the Wyzenwood. "Levi, what are you about? Don't take that off..."

"Uncle Sam needs stockins, though...I don't need them, I like feet," Levi responded with impeccable 4-year-old logic.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:46, Wed 16 Mar 2022.

Andrew had been relieved to see Sam returned and had stepped closer to hear of what he had witnessed in the wood, remaining quiet as the doctor spoke with him. But at the mention of a stag, he was unable to refrain from speaking. ”The stag…you said it threatened you? Did it look at all like the one that wandered into the village?”

In reply to Levi Whitlock (msg # 14):

Sam chuckled at Levi's truly perfect logic, turning his head to see the carpenter. "I did see it - it looked the same to me, though we were focused on trying to find anything that could help us locate Polly, rather than on the stag."

Maggie doubts anything more of any use will be got by questioning Sam. She huddles into her shawl and lets go again with her boomin call.

"Ha-al-looo! Ha-al-looo! Hoy! Hoy! Hoy!" Where are those men?

"Kit said she was took off by the- well, by the Downstairs Gentleman, and strangled besides," Mary told her brother, in case he didn't know, then turned her attention to her son: "They'll not fit him, Levi, he's far too big, let your shoes be - oh!"

It being too late, Mary grudgingly accepted the shoe handed to her. Levi took off that stocking and looked to see if Sam would take off his shoe to accept the replacement. "You're going to get in trouble, 'cos they're all ripped," he said, by way of encouragement.

The woods did not respond to Maggie at all, not by stir or break of silence. She had the sensation of being watched, however, sourceless unless she turned to cast her gaze far out to the hare in the field behind.

Mrs. Criddle had caught up to the upper group by this point to see what they'd got, sliding a sly smile to the doctor as she drew alongside for the shanties. She looked at Sam, alone, then at the others loosely grouped about, and with concern at the child sat by Samuel's feet. She'd come out with her patchwork apron on, probably disturbed from baking by Mary's first report of the stag: the fine stuffs and the common colours rippled with the high hill wind like the agitation of some oiled surface as she looked at Mrs. Whitlock and said "Ask him something only Sam would know."

Mary's eyes went very wide. Levi tapped Sam's shin to try and regain his attention, oblivious in his focus. Tapped the shin of something that had come out of the Wyzenwood alone, at least.


[[just thought I'd bring up the possibility, since you're all very trusting, and maybe a little stuck.]]

Sam slightly winced as his nephew kicked him, and softly chuckled as he turned to face the lad. "What's wrong, Levi? Everything alright?" he asked, leaning back just a little bit. He offered the seat next to him to the boy.

The "kick" turned out to be being tapped with the other shoe. " 'm offering you my stockins," Levi explained, "-to help."

"They still won't fit him, Levi, and you're going to have to put everything on again yourself, you know," his mother warned.

Levi heaved up on the log beside Sam and considered the footwear. "I'll wear 'em tomorrow for God," he offered, looking from Sam to his feet. "Just feet is good. She's got just feet."

Mary looked after Maggie Yendale. "Use names if you know them, Levi. You surely don't want to grow up and look entirely like Mistress Yendale, now, do you?"

Levi looked like he honestly would like to be tall and unshod and unbothered by the technicalities of trouser-buttons, but was pretty sure that was the wrong answer. He compromised on "Hmm."

"All right, Sam...to check you're you and not some thing come out the Wood: where did your toy horse Tuffy lose his leg?"