Avira

  As the six continued to travel, they recovered gradually. By the time they were near the border to Deadwood both Avira and Hawke were fully recovered. Avira had her stitches out as well as a few new scars, and Hawke was full of energy again.

  Avira walked next to the cart, talking to Hawke as he held the reins. "Shame it's gotten so cold," Avira said, "everyone sleeping in the wagon is getting old. I'd like to sleep under the stars."

  "You'd have a hard time with that close to the Zakathan border," Hawke pointed towards a river far in the distance, "their cities apparently glow, which drowns out the stars."

  Avira had doubts. "How do they make their cities glow? Fire? I'm not sure how that would affect the stars in the sky, though."

  Hawke shrugged. "I wouldn't know, nobody's allowed in. This side of the mountains isn't my specialty either. Just glad we'll finally be free of this nation soon."

  "I'll say." Avira glanced backward at the many miles of road they'd journeyed. "Real shithole."

  "I'd disagree." Suzie poked her head out from the wagon. "But I've never been anywhere else, so I don't know what it's like elsewhere. I'd like to think I was fairly well off, though my experience is limited."

  "You got out lucky considering how much your father cared." Avira looked at her.

  Suzie winced, being reminded of her recent loss. "Uh, I have some things to prepare in the wagon, sorry..." She receded back into the carriage.

  "Oops." Avira frowned. "Didn't mean to do that."

  "It's a fresh wound, it was gonna come up," Hawke spoke sympathetically as he addressed Avira, "she needs time to process it on her own."

  "Right..." Avira accepted that, remembering the story of Hawke's own mother, "I guess I'm fortunate, never had to deal with the death of an immediate family member."

  They shared a moment of silence and stared into the distance. The lack of trees or cliffs gave them a good view of the High-Kath mountain range. It stretched beyond sight on one end, the other giving way to a large treeline. They were finally close to the Deadlands.

  Avira's ears twitched as the sound of clanging metal hit them. "We've got a visitor. Armored," she spoke to Hawke, who perked his head up and strained to hear.

  "Halt!" a voice yelled out, unmistakable clopping of a horse joining in.

  Hawke shushed the people in the cart while Avira turned to watch a fully armored knight riding up atop a kathan horse. She couldn't see his face through the helmet, and what wasn't covered by steel plate was covered by chainmail and thick gambeson.

  "You want something?" Avira asked.

  "Restrain yourself, dog!" he yelled and looked at Hawke, putting his horse to rest. "Sir, are you the owner of this wagon?"

  Avira crossed her arms as she listened, annoyed at being silenced but not wanting to cause any trouble just yet.

  "Aye," Hawke responded, giving a nervous glance to Avira, "did you have any business with me?"

  "Hm," the knight muttered, unfurling a parchment and examining it, "a wagon just like this fled from Hornwood Village after a riot was started by it's passengers."

  Hawke didn't seem phased. "Yeah? How strange. Any other details? I might be able to help."

  The knight was quiet for a moment. "Well..." He glanced at Avira, though it was hard to tell where his eyes were behind the helmet. "I think we both know it's more than that. I recognize this mutt's description. Short, hybrid, female, dark of skin, blonde... rather unique look."

  "And what source are you using to justify your suspicion?" Avira began, but the knight held up a hand to silence her.

  "The humans are talking."

  This was really pissing Avira off. She felt her fist tightening.

  "Let's cut to the chase," Hawke spoke, "arresting us would be a lot of work. There's a lot of people in the wagon, plus if we put up a struggle a lone knight might get blindsided. So you'd like to propose a deal, yes?"

  The knight shifted in his seat. "I'm glad you're a smart man. That's the way of it, indeed. I'm thinking five gold. Alternatively, you can let me take this hybrid of yours into the bushes for a few hours."

  "Pardon?" Avira yelled.

  "Calm down, dog. Not like your kind isn't used to fucking in the woods," he spoke harshly.

  That was it. Avira stepped forward quickly and grabbed onto both his leg and the arm that was reaching for his sword. With a grunt she pulled him, the knight's leg slipping out of one of his stirrups, the other caught as he fell to the ground with a loud clang of metal.

  Avira was on him in a minute, still holding his hand down as she pulled out her knife.

  "F—fuck!" the knight yelled out, now panicked as he tried to push the wolf girl away, "contain your mutt!" he yelled in Hawke's direction, but the prince did nothing.

  Avira raised her knife and the knight's free hand shot up to stop her from plunging it down. She put her back into it and continued to press down, knife getting closer and closer to the eye slit as the soldier grunted with exertion.

  Avira grinned as she heard his panicked breathing while the tip entered the dark slit, and with one final burst of effort it plunged in. She felt the blade slide through the soft meat of the eye and force its way through the socket, giving a satisfying crunch as it broke through and pierced into the brain itself. The strained knight went limp as he died, Avira laughing at how pathetic he was. She pulled the blade out and plunged it through again and again, stabbing through the other eye socket for the sake of it.

  "Avira?"

  A dim voice barely reached her as she continued to desecrate the corpse, putting more force into it and laughing all the while.

  "Avira!" it yelled again, just loud enough to snap her out of it. She shot her head up to see Hawke, Godart, Suzie and Kalani looking at her with concern and fear.

  "Are... are you alright?" Godart asked, unwilling to step towards her.

  "Well, yeah. Must have just gotten a little angry at him," Avira spoke, watching the blood pour out of the knights helm.

  "Then..." Godart spoke again, "why are you smiling like that?"

  #

  Godart

  Avira was quick to change her expression and climb into the wagon with Godart, Suzie, and Kalani while Mareth and Hawke took care of the body and horse. Her smile was gone, replaced with a somber expression with her ears pressed flat against her head.

  "I knew it..." Kalani muttered to herself as she took a seat as far from Avira as she could.

  "Knew what? Avira, what was that?" Godart asked, scared of Avira after seeing her brutalize that knight.

  Avira's eyes wandered the room as she considered how to word what she was about to say. "Well. Do you know what a feral is?"

  Godart searched her head for the term. "I've heard about them in passing but never more than in a derogatory context."

  "They're hybrids that get... excited, when fighting. Lose themselves and do, well, you saw." Avira nodded towards the wagon entrance. "They're isolated, become sentries. Usually it degenerates into a greater lack of self control until the slightest bit gets them into a bloodthirsty frenzy."

  Kalani spoke up, "it only happens with the tribals. No cases of it in civilized hybrids, even those from tribal lands." Her tone had a very slight haughty inflection, making her catch a glare from Avira.

  "My mom was... one of them," Suzie spoke now, "though she was already one before coming to the country."

  "After they're too far gone, they're sent to the Deadlands to live. The hybrids there are violent, but they've formed a tribe and follow the land's laws as any other tribe does," Avira said.

  "Interesting..." Godart had a lot to unpack from that.

  "Pardon?" Avira looked up to meet Godart's gaze.

  "Sorry, not making light of it or anything. I'm just thinking. It's not genetic. It gets worse with isolation. It only happens in the tribes. I'm curious to know if there's some underlying cause here." Godart was deep in thought.

  Avira lowered her eyebrows, confused. "I'm pretty sure it's just something we're born with."

  "Some people are just savages from the moment they're born," Kalani stated bluntly.

  Avira took a step towards her, "you want to repeat that?"

  Kalani scoffed, "resorting to violence really disproves my point." She rolled her eyes.

  "You two, shut up and sit down!" Godart yelled, so unexpectedly it made everyone else jump. The Plague Doctor crossed her arms and looked at them. "I don't know what your problem with each other is, but you need to settle it and stop attacking each other all trip. It's tiring and stressful."

  Avira and Kalani looked at Godart, then to each other. Now this was awkward.

  Kalani crossed her wings and huffed, "fine, I suppose. I'll be honest. I didn't like you from the start, being a tribal. And our first interaction wasn't positive at all. But I've seen that you're capable, and I can respect your abilities."

  Avira took a moment to take that in, then sighed. "Alright, fine. I'm sorry I called you a bluntbeak when we met. I should know better than to judge someone on their parentage. You're good at what you do and you provide a valuable service to the group."

  They both nodded to each other. The tension lifted from the room, making Godart notice the breath she'd been holding in. She was so glad that worked.

  Any other talk was interrupted by the cart coming to a slow stop. Hawke yelled from the front, "we're here!"

  "Oh!" Avira shot up, "don't enter the woods yet!" she had a nervous inflection to her voice as she hurried out the back.

  Godart, Suzie, and Kalani shared a look before following. They saw, at the front of the wagon, a line of tall gnarled trees and a trail leading the way into a dark forest. It was midday, but barely any light was touching the ground inside the woods. Avira was standing between the wagon and the treeline, hands clasped together as she spoke.

  "My name is Avira Gray-Wolf, daughter of Fang Gray-Wolf. I intend to pass through the woods and will respect them. I'll embrace the land, and hope it will embrace me." Her eyes were open as she spoke loudly into the forest. Avira stood there, hands still clasped together as she waited.

  The forest suddenly sprung to life, animals chirping and calling as if they'd been muted before. The rustle of leaves resounded as a strong wind blew into the woods from behind as if ushering them in. It made Godart jump, though Avira seemed pleased as her tail started wagging. "What was that?"

  Avira scanned the faces of the bewildered audience. "I guess you lot aren't familiar with this tradition. That's fine. Essentially, before you enter protected lands you want to make an appeal to the spirits of the lands, state your purpose, and state your most relevant parent. If you have the spirit's blessing, you'll have a much better trip. This is a good sign, means we'll be through the woods in a week or two."

  "A week? According to the map, it should take much longer than that," Hawke spoke up, holding up his parchment.

  "It would if the spirits didn't give their blessing. Actually, in the Deadlands we'd probably never make it out of the woods," Avira laughed, seemingly taking enjoyment from everyone's perturbed expressions.

  "W—well... I guess that means we should all do the same ceremony?" Godart inquired, stepping next to Avira and looking into the woods.

  "Correct." Avira grinned and put her arm around Godart. "Don't be nervous though, you're under my stewardship here."

  Godart took a moment to calm herself, then mimicked Avira's posture as she clasped her hands together. "S—spirits of the forest! I'm Godart Kelly, daughter of Magnus Kelly! I'm going to pass through your woods, and I'll respect the land as I do!"

  "Good, good! Everyone else take your turns, then we'll be set to venture into the woods." Avira gestured towards everyone, then pulled Godart to the side. "So, Kelly, eh? Cute last name."

  Godart blushed under the mask, but tried her best to not let it show in her voice, "th—thanks..." her voice cracked, "Gray-Wolf? That's an interesting name. Which is the tribe and which is the clan name?"

  "Wolf is the tribe," Avira explained, "Gray is the clan name. Earned by my father for heroics he's performed for the tribe. Named after his fur color I believe."

  "You think you'll earn your own honor name one day? Golden-Wolf maybe?" Godart smiled.

  "That's a good name, but I doubt it. You need to do something very outstanding to earn your own clan name. All I've done so far is act as a sentry and go on a road trip." Avira shrugged. "But anyways. I know you might be tempted to pick a lot of herbs and examine all the plants in the Deadlands. I'm just going to warn you quickly not to go too crazy. Only take what can easily be grown back, and don't disrupt the ecology. The spirits can be very particular about humans messing with things. Hence why barely any of them have made the trip before."

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  That made Godart nervous. She'd have to hold her inner scholar at bay the whole trip. "I usually try to cull things selectively, but I'll be extra careful."

  "Good." Avira pat Godart on her hooded head, having to go on her tiptoes to do so. "Now then." She turned to see that Kalani, Suzie and Hawke had finished their introductions. Mareth was finishing up when Avira suddenly froze, a shiver visibly running through her as her ears flattened against her head.

  "Avira? What's wrong?" Godart asked, worry obvious in her voice.

  Avira didn't respond initially, looking to Godart, Mareth, the forest, then back to Godart again. Then with a gulp, she spoke under her breath, "they don't like Mareth."

  #

  Mareth

  Mareth found himself feeling very alone as the wagon entered the forest. It wasn't that his companions weren't around; Avira and Godart were both at the front of the wagon with him. It was that his amulet, usually emanating silent whispers, had gone quiet. What's more, he couldn't seem to summon Witness. The spirits inside of his amulet were still there, and he still felt the connection binding Witness to his servitude intact. Was this due to some special aspect of ancestral hybrid lands?

  "Do you have a history with the Deadlands, Mareth?" Avira asked, watching the road ahead and scanning the woods on both sides of the rarely used trail.

  "These forests? I haven't done any experiments here. Or traveled here, for that matter," Mareth responded.

  "Weird. The spirits don't seem to like you," Avira said, ears twitching constantly with every noise.

  "Weird," Godart said, "you used your father's name when introducing yourself though, right? Maybe he did something that annoyed the spirits."

  Mareth thought about that. It was certainly possible. He got his love of experimentation from his father, after all. "Could be. Not much we can do about it in either case."

  "We're going to have to take extra precautions," Avira said, "we should still get through the forest in a good time considering I'm here, but there's... things out there that the spirits would usually protect us from."

  "Like what?" Mareth raised an eyebrow.

  "It's bad luck to mention them. Just don't trust your ears and eyes. Especially at night. Best not to leave the group at all." Avira was very serious as she spoke, so Mareth made sure to take it to heart.

  Godart was clearly unnerved, a shiver visibly running up her spine. "We should have gone through the mountains..."

  "I'd rather deal with a hostile forest than goblins," Mareth said.

  "I'll take care of everyone, don't worry," Avira said, "I haven't been able to fully pull my weight until now, but I know the forest."

  "Right. I trust you." Godart nodded.

  Avira smiled and put an arm around her.

  Mareth glanced over, but kept his eyes on the road ahead. As they journeyed deeper into the woods, the canopy overhead gave less openings for light to shine down. Sunbeams became rarer and rarer as they went, until Mareth had to put up a light spell to see the trail ahead of him. The wagon bumped against thick tree roots a lot, though the ground began to get slick. Was this turning into a marsh?

  "I'm amazed the wagon has been able to get this far into the forest," Mareth said, "didn't expect a trail to exist at all. You think it might get stuck?" he looked to Avira, who he was addressing

  "Maybe if we came any earlier. This would usually be very muddy and wet, but thankfully winter being so close means less runoff from the mountains" Avira explained, "the trails though, they exist because the tribals around tend to them. Less for humans, more for other tribals to find their way through. I've heard that slaves will run here to escape the Kathan lands."

  "Interesting. And they're supposed to be brutal tribals?" Mareth asked.

  "I wonder about that," Godart said.

  They both turned their heads to the masked woman, interested to hear what she was going to say.

  "Okay, so hear me out." Godart raised her hands, prepared to give them a lecture. "There's an old theory by the Archmage Leo, who theorized that hybrids and humans were the same species."

  Avira furrowed her brow and tilted her head. "Huh?"

  "I know, not many people accepted that. But his reasoning was compelling. They can breed, and the offspring is fertile and can be either species. They share many traits. They get sick from the same things and experience similar symptoms. And they both can be mages, elementals, runics, or derelicts." Godart held up a finger for each point.

  "Yes, I always found that an interesting thought. Though the differences are fairly vast. Hybrids have more powerful senses as well as ears and tails," Mareth spoke.

  "If that was enough then every form of hybrid would also be a completely different species, but that doesn't hold water and it's not the prevailing thought," Godart said, "what I believe is that humans are technically just another form of hybrid. One with a different culture, but hybrid nonetheless Or to reverse that, hybrids are humans. The term 'hybrid', I feel, should be abolished." Godart had clearly put a lot of thought into this, which made Mareth proud.

  "That's very interesting, but what does that have to do with the Deadlands tribals?" Avira asked.

  "Oh right, thank you for reminding me. You say they're expelled here because they become feral, but I really don't think that the condition is real. Or if it is, I think the danger of them is overblown. It only happens in the tribes and has not occurred in humans, which leads me to two theories: either it's something in the environment influencing emotional states, or it's something else entirely being exacerbated by misinformation and isolation. They're not monsters, they're just isolated and resorting to bad habits," Godart explained.

  "Huh..." Avira put a hand in front of her face, looking down wide-eyed. "That's... something. Wow."

  Godart paused to look at Avira, tilting her head, "uh, did I say something wrong there?"

  Avira raised her head and smiled, "quite the opposite. If that's true, you could very well have just changed the tribes for the better." She pulled Godart in for a hug. "You wouldn't believe the load that takes off my shoulders."

  Godart hugged her back tightly, a deep embrace. Mareth suddenly felt like he was intruding. He turned to scan the trees around them instead. The trunks had black bark, though some were closer to dark blue. The leaves had a red tint to them. The time of year would have been a safe explanation for the leaves, but it didn't match up with the fact that they were still full enough to block out the sunlight. Perhaps it was a side effect of the forest's proximity to the Drima desert. Or perhaps he just wasn't educated enough on trees to know.

  Some movement distracted him, but when turned his head to look there was nothing. Avira's ears perked up when she saw Mareth move.

  "You see something?" the wolf girl asked, giving Godart a pat on the head before standing up and looking around.

  "Just thought I saw something move. It's nothing though," Mareth said, "you said this forest is protected by spirits, right? I can usually... see ghosts. I'd think I would be able to see them here. I can't even summon Witness here."

  Avira furrowed her brow. "Hm. Probably due to the fact that the characteristics of the environment are different. Ghosts roam the human world because it's separate from the realm of the dead and they can't reach it. The forest, though," she spread her arms as if showing the woods off, "is intertwined with the realm of the dead and the living. It's an aspect that's unique to tribal hybrids. If you don't have a connection to the land, like living in a city for example, you can't join your ancestors in the forest to watch over the people. You just end up going with all the humans. Which of course is nowhere now." Avira grinned at that. "We'd never be as stupid as to risk our entire afterlife though."

  "Interesting. I suppose that holds water. Doesn't appear to influence my spellcasting, which would be explained by what you said. And what exactly happens when people die in the forest?" Mareth asked.

  "Glad you brought it up. Well, an ancestor of yours will appear to collect you and take you into the depths of the forest. They take your soul specifically, the body is left to give back to the earth. We bury bodies and usually plant something over them," Avira explained.

  "Sorry, that's very interesting, but when you say they come to collect your spirit you mean, like, a ghost form of them right?" Mareth asked.

  "Oh, well technically, yes. They look alive though. Like they gain a corporeal form for a limited time or something. Bad luck to interact with them though, just gotta give a silent prayer," Avira said.

  "That sounds creepy," Godart muttered.

  Avira laughed, "guess it does, huh? It's very calming in person though. Let's hope we don't witness it regardless."

  "Right." Mareth nodded. "I have a few other questions if..."

  He trailed off. As he was looking at Avira, something in the woods behind her moved. Something tall and bipedal was peeking from behind a tree trunk, then ducked behind it the moment Mareth looked. He wouldn't have seen it if it weren't for the light above him, but he could still barely make it out.

  "You see something?" Avira asked, whipping her head to look back.

  "Yeah," Mareth said, "it was tall—"

  "Shut up." Avira stared into the woods intensely. "Get into the wagon. You too Godart. Send Kalani up here. And don't speak of it."

  "Okay." Mareth was a curious sort, but he knew when the correct time to be silent was. He exchanged a glance with Godart and climbed back into the wagon. "Kalani, she'd like you up with her."

  Kalani was currently spoon feeding an annoyed looking Hawke, so she was disgruntled to hear Mareth. "What does she want now..." she muttered and clambered up front.

  "Thank the sentinels, she's gotten way more aggressive in nursing me since I recovered from that cold," Hawke glanced at his half empty bowl of stew. "I think she's been eating some of my food too."

  "Speaking of, food's ready," Suzie said with a smile. She had a kettle combined with a small stove. Stove was stretching it, it was more like a small stone plate on a stand with hot embers. It was tiny, but doubled as the heating for the wagon. Plus it was best to keep any sources of fire small in the wooden carriage. Suzie handed Godart and Mareth their bowls before they could respond, and they both sat down.

  "Something happen out there?" Hawke asked.

  "Yeah. Not supposed to talk about it apparently," Godart responded.

  As they talked, Mareth was in silent reflection. What was that creature? There was no mistaking that it was bipedal. Too high up for that, plus he could see the long skinny arm sticking out. Was too dim to see what the arm ended with. Not much was visible of the body, but he remembered the head being shaped oddly. Very gaunt, pale skin, dark eyes. He considered that detail specifically. Dark eyes? Hybrid's eyes glinted in the light, so why weren't those? That meant it almost certainly wasn't an animal either.

  The hours were uneventful, neither Godart or Mareth willing to discuss their theories as to the nature of the creature he'd seen. Godart, Suzie, and Hawke began a conversation while Mareth cracked open a book. A dry tome about the mechanics of spellcasting and how it varied among certain cultures. Just dull enough that he could continue pondering the situation they were in while absorbing the knowledge.

  After a few hours the wagon slowed to a halt. "Nighttime already?" Mareth looked up from his book, seeing supper being made by Godart, Hawke, and Suzie.

  "Smells good." Avira entered the wagon, sniffing the air. "I've got some preparation to do around the wagon, but we're staying here for the night. Don't leave the wagon if you can help it, and don't trust your senses. Alright?" She scanned the group.

  "Alright..." Godart sounded wary, but trusting.

  "Let me guess, some sort of monster?" Hawke asked with a smirk.

  Avira thought about that. "Some sort. We'll be doing standard watches tonight, just wake me if anything happens."

  "Sounds serious. Need any spells?" Mareth asked, standing up and brushing himself off.

  Avira initially rolled her eyes, but an idea came into her head. "That spell you used before we were attacked by that daemon in Hornwood Village, how's it work exactly?"

  "Ah." Mareth pulled out his spellbook and flipped to the right page, showing Avira the page.

  Avira narrowed her eyes as she saw the ancient characters dance on the page. "You know non mages can't read that shit right?"

  "Right," Mareth grinned, "though neither can mages. The meaning just kind of pops in our heads for the moment it takes to cast the spell. But anyways, this spell is very basic. It's a personal barrier that guards against one magical attack and can be applied to three people maximum. Not that versatile unfortunately."

  Avira sighed and shook her head. "Of course magic would be useless right now... right, I'll be out of the wagon for a little bit, so stay safe."

  She left, and Kalani entered the wagon. Her face was pale and she was shivering.

  Hawke immediately grew concerned, walking over and whispering in her ear. Kalani immediately threw her wings around the prince, holding him tight. Hawke seemed surprised, but embraced her back and rubbed her back.

  "Hope Avira's okay out there..." Godart spoke.

  The wagon went quiet as a rasping voice blew through the carriage as if carried on the wind. "Come out... help..." it pleaded. Everyone froze. That was Avira's voice.

  Godart looked ready to run, so Mareth stopped her with a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Calm down now Godart, she did say not to go out."

  "Godart... I need you..." the voice was louder, the rasp more apparent.

  Godart stiffened up when she heard her own name being called, but the tone of the beckoning seemed to affirm to her that it wasn't Avira calling her.

  The group collectively held their breath as whatever was out there continued calling to them, using each of their names. The strange thing was that it was calling them in the same tone every time, as though whatever was calling only knew one way to say each word.

  "Come out... help..." again, the noise sounding perfectly identical to the first time.

  That was when Mareth realized how quiet everyone was being, as if none of them had the heart to voice their concerns. What's more, the forest as a whole was quiet. No insects, no calling birds, no movement besides the crunching of leaves outside that was likely Avira. When the flap to the wagon moved, everyone jumped and reached for the nearest weapon, but stopped when Avira climbed in.

  Avira was clearly stressed, but she took a deep breath before speaking, "don't respond to it," she told them, then looked to Godart, "do we have any sage? Burn it if so."

  "Alright." Godart nodded, ruffling around to look for sage.

  Avira approached Mareth. "You don't sleep much, so you're probably gonna take the bulk of the watch. Just to reiterate, don't trust anything you see or hear."

  "I've got that by now," Mareth agreed.

  Avira didn't respond, looking to Godart who had retrieved some sage. They burnt it, then settled down to sleep.

  Mareth sat near the back entrance to the wagon, reading through his book. The voice had stopped, and nobody else in the wagon seemed to want to talk. It was as if breaking the silence would invite something in.

  He listened to the sounds of the forest slowly return, animals feeling safe enough to call to each other again. As the minutes ticked into hours, the sleeping group settled into peaceful dreams as always. Mareth almost felt a pang of jealousy as he looked out at their restful faces.

  He shifted in his seat, which brought his attention to how much he needed to relieve himself. Mareth stood up quietly, trying not to wake anyone as he stepped outside.

  The cold air hit his uncovered face. The ground was hard against his feet, though he noticed that the wagon had sunken into the earth an inch while resting here. Were it not for the time of the year, it would be impossible to take a wagon through these woods at all.

  He walked to the side of the wagon, noticing a ring of stones placed around the perimeter. Probably something Avira did to ward off whatever he saw earlier. As he relieved himself, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to it again. He'd never read of anything like that creature. Mareth wished he could ask Avira about it very badly. He'd have to bother her about it after they left the forest.

  It was when Mareth fastened his pants back that he realized the wildlife had once again gone quiet. He paused, facing the wagon's canopy. He felt a presence a few feet behind him, in the treeline.

  "Mareth..." Godart's voice called to him, "let's go on a walk..."

  It sounded exactly like Godart if she'd had a bad cold. It was startling to think that the rasp was the only thing keeping him from believing in the impression and turning to face it. He wondered if it had her face, too. Perhaps it had a ghastly impersonation of her mask.

  It took more will than Mareth thought for him to simply file back into the wagon, looking away as it continued to call him.

  "Mareth..." it called again, and again. If not for the fact that he saw Godart sleeping, cuddling next to Avira, he would have started to wonder if it was really her out there.

  Mareth sat back down, tuning it out. This would be a long night.

  #

  Avira

  Avira was glad that Mareth had taken the entirety of the watch last night. Everyone got to rest well, so they were up early. Avira had them wait in the wagon as she hopped out, examining their surroundings.

  There were tracks all around the circle outside. Many, in fact. Some of them were monsters, some animals, some looked like normal hybrids. Her nose suddenly caught the telltale copper scent of blood and her head jerked up, looking in the direction it was wafting from. The horses.

  She gasped as she realized what had happened. While she had circled wide enough to include the horses, they seemed to have kicked enough aside to disrupt the protection. One horse was missing entirely. The other laid on the ground, its intestines spilled.

  She looked at the crimson pool under it and felt the beast. It was still warm. It couldn't have died less than an hour or two ago.

  Avira stood up, rubbing her head with frustration. "Fuck."