He sat by the stream for a little longer, watching sparse moonlight reflecting in some of its eddies, and staring hard in the hopes of finding some fish. He saw some flashes of silver that he had half-convinced himself were fish, before he grew tired of the water, and straightened again.

He looked around himself, taking stock of the copse. He couldn’t see the edge from here, but he knew they hadn’t been walking for that long before Ness stopped. Perhaps he’d be able to see home from the edge. The bank on the opposite side to him was higher than the one nearby, the stream having carved a smooth curve out of the packed clay. He looked further down the stream, and saw a spot where the stream widened and the opposite bank dipped, and decided he would attempt a crossing over there.

A rock poked out from the water, and he attempted to jump to it- the stone itself being just a little too far for him to step comfortably. He landed, one foot slipping into the water as he struggled to maintain his balance, arms windmilling frantically as his torso swayed. When he was steadied again, he returned his attention to the far bank, lifting his wet foot from the water and shaking it to remove the worst, before he decided he might as well just step across. He did just that, not enjoying the sensation of his wet shoe under his foot, but reaching the other side all the same. The stream here was shallower than it had been where he had first sat beside it, so only his foot was wet, and his trouser leg had mercifully missed the soaking.

He set his sights on the way ahead, clambering up the small slope on this side of the stream and making his way through the trees. He had to be careful where he stepped, as the darkness obscured much of the forest’s ground cover, making it very difficult for him to properly identify what he was moving through. He nearly tripped when his foot snagged on a bramble, saved only by the tree that he had been walking past, which he had reached out toward at the first sign of him being off balance.

Shafts of moonlight fell from the thinning canopy above, as the trees he moved through became less dense. He started to see the clear sky beyond, and picked up the pace with the new light.

It was a surprisingly warm night for how clear it was- Eldred could count the stars easily from where he stood, and the moon hung high in the sky, silver light illuminating much of the flowing landscape of hills and valleys. He moved a short distance from the treeline, heading out onto the hill properly so he could see over some of the trees at least. He turned back to the way they had come, staring out into the countryside, searching for anything familiar.

He could see the distant lights of a small village- only one or two houses with candles lit, and the hills had their own pinprick mosaic of tiny stars of light as farmhands and other folk lit their candles for the night. He frowned, scanning the horizon at least three times before concluding that he could not see his hometown. Maybe, he thought, it was hidden behind a hill? That had to be it- he’d never gone far from his hometown, and quite frankly wasn’t sure how far they had come now. Ness had said they had been travelling since the previous night, but he didn’t know much distance the horse could cover, and even then he didn’t have a benchmark for how far from the town that would get them anyway.

He sat, ignoring the damp that seeped up from the ground. A lot had happened in the last few days, and most of it, Eldred reflected, had not been good. He felt as though any moment now he would wake as if from a dream, and he would be back home and he would find that the dogs had not chased him, that the men had not come last night, that he’d never met this strange armoured figure. He rested his head on his knees, looking at the world sideways and was struck with a deep homesickness. Did Cal and May wonder where he had gone? What would Orwel have told his family when he returned last night? Would he have told them anything? Eldred thought he’d seen Cal’s father there too, in the group of other men, and the thought only made him feel worse. Did the townsfolk really hate him that much? Absently he rubbed the spot where around his neck where Orwel had held him, the skin, not that he could see, was bruised with the shape of the man’s fingers. They had said they were saving their own children by doing what they did- did that mean the dogs had been his fault? Had he put his friends in danger by going to the forest with them? With that thought came an overwhelming sense of guilt, so much so that he was near certain he would throw up from the feeling. He pulled his legs in closer, hugging them tightly and trying to think of something- anything- else.

He caught himself wondering what his mother would be doing right now, and his gaze dropped down to the trees as he remembered what Ness had said, as the fractured memories of the previous night returned to the forefront of his mind. His mother was gone.

That was what his mother had always said about his father- that he was gone. Whenever Eldred had asked, she’d told him he was gone. When he’d asked where, she’d shaken her head sadly, and told him that it was somewhere neither of them could follow. It had taken him a few years to learn that his father had passed- his mother had found speaking that simple truth difficult. Before he’d figured it out, he’d been sure that his father was off on adventures of some kind- soldiering, or exploring some part of the world that was far too dangerous to bring Eldred and his mother. Finding out the truth- that his father had died when Eldred was only a few months old- had been more disappointing than sad. It had only been recently that he’d seen the grave- a small, unmarked headstone under a sparse tree in the graveyard. It had felt isolated and apart from the others, even though it sat only a few paces from the next.

There was movement from the treeline, and Eldred jerked to his feet, ready to flee. He stood, tense and alert, staring at the spot, straining to hear or see anything.

A glint of metal caught the moonlight, and he felt himself relax a little as a shape emerged, humanoid and armoured. He took a deep breath, and sat back down, this time facing away from the trees and staring out at the new vista.

It took Ness a few minutes to climb the hill to where he sat, her footsteps only becoming audible in the last few feet. Much to Eldred’s surprise, her armour was near silent. There was no scrape or clink of metal, even though loose chainmail hung from beneath her breastplate and the plates at her hip moved freely.

He heard her stop just behind him, the gentle hiss of her footsteps on the grass halting. He sat, waiting for the inevitable scolding- he had realised that he’d passed from the area she had told him to stay in. Would she be angry? He felt some unease at the prospect- the imposing figure clad in armour was not something Eldred felt he wanted to anger. He kept staring out, almost hoping that if he did not look back or acknowledge her, she would not rebuke him for disobeying.

“We are too far to see your home from here,” she said after the pause, and Eldred flinched at the sudden sound. “But it is beyond the horizon, that way.” After a moment’s hesitation, he turned to see that she was pointing off to the other side of the copse. He could see no lights that way, the sea of fields and hills remaining as dark as the sky above. She pointed toward somewhere behind Eldred, and he twisted to look that way too as she spoke again. “That is the direction we shall be travelling tomorrow. Again, we are too far to see our destination from here, but it is in a forest much bigger than the woods down there.”

“There’s a doctor in a forest?” he asked, a little confused. The town doctor, an elderly man who tended to both the town and some of the neighbouring villages, lived in a very fancy house near the centre of town. Eldred had never seen him as a patient, but he’d caught sight of the man on visits into the market square, and heard Cal talk about him a few times. The man had looked like the sort that would struggle in any situation outside of the town that he lived in, and Eldred found it hard to believe that any similar person would possess the necessary skills.

“In a way, yes,” was the only answer Ness gave, and Eldred frowned at how cryptic it was.

He had turned back to look at her, and was about to ask further when she interrupted. “In future, please refrain from going beyond where I tell you. You are lucky, this time, that no danger awaited you, but this will not always be the case.” Her voice was calm and measured, the words matter of fact and polite. They sent a shiver down his spine. She turned back to the trees, gesturing with one hand for him to follow. “Come, now. I will light a fire and we can see about cooking this.” She raised her other arm then, and for the first time Eldred realised she was carrying something- a dead rabbit hanging from its hind legs, its brown coat pristine.

Not wanting to incite any further scolding, he hurried to stand, and followed as she made her way back down the hill.

The rest of the evening passed in silence. Ness lit a fire, something that Eldred started to appreciate as the night went on and the heat started to seep from the air. He huddled around it as the rabbit cooked, and Ness turned to care for her horse.

It hadn’t tasted bad, but he found himself homesick for his mother’s cooking as he gnawed at the bones, staring into the flames as his mind drifted through the events of the past few days for the umpteenth time.

When the bones were picked clean, he sat back a little further and lay down in the pine needles, pulling his coat closer around himself and shutting his eyes, hoping he’d at least be able to sleep. It took some fidgeting to find a position that did not make his face hurt- sleeping on any part of the right side of his body was out of the question- but once he did, he dropped off almost immediately, falling into a fitful sleep as his increasing weariness caught up to him once again.

Bright sunlight woke him, fingers of light finding their way through the tree trunks. Groggily, he opened his eyes, taking in the quiet forest around him. The fire was nothing but embers, ash drifting lazily into the air, charred sticks dotted with the occasional white of bone where it had not been blackened. The small stock of wood that had been piled only a short distance from it had been depleted, leaving only a few twigs that wouldn’t have made much of a difference anyway.

On the other side of the fire he could see the sitting shape of Ness- still clad in her armour- leaned against one of the trees on the raised edge of the bowl, facing away from him. He wondered if she’d slept, and if she had taken off her armour to do so.

Slowly, he sat up, wincing at the stiffness in his limbs. A blanket fell from his shoulders, and it took him a moment to recall that there had not been one when he had fallen asleep. He was glad of it- even through the thin layer he was cold, but he suspected it had helped considerably in keeping him at least this warm.

At the sound of movement, Ness stood, walking down to where he sat and starting to kick dirt over the fire.

“How do you feel?” she asked as she worked, kneeling down as she continued to dismantle the small fire pit.

He watched her, taking stock of himself. “Cold,” he decided, moving a little closer in hopes of gleaning a little more heat from the now smouldering pile. He had no such luck, and instead just bundled himself up further in the blanket.

“With any luck, you won’t be sleeping out again tonight,” she assured him, straightening and walking over to Ardghal, starting to put the saddle and bridle back on the horse.

Eldred nodded to himself, and huddled in closer, staring at where the fire had been.

They set off only a short while later, Eldred begrudgingly letting Ness lift up onto the horse. He sat in the front again, with Ness behind to make sure he didn’t fall off.

They left the copse the way they had entered, following a narrow path back out onto the lane and then continuing in the direction Ness had pointed out the night before.

Conversation was more sparse this time around, with Eldred mostly keeping his thoughts to himself. Occasionally, he would comment on some feature on the road- a mile marker, a herd of cows, or a stream that they passed. Ness, for the most part, would respond with only a few words, and after a while Eldred went quiet, keeping his observations to himself. It didn’t take very long for the previous day’s aches and pains to return, and Eldred couldn’t help but fidget in an attempt to find a more comfortable position to sit. Ness, on her part, seemed impervious to this, remaining still in her seat, attention seemingly fixed on the road ahead of them.

It was mid-morning when Eldred asked a question that received a proper answer, Ness humouring him for more than just a few moments.

“Why did we stop last night?” he’d said as they passed over a small stone bridge, the water beneath bubbling over rocks and snaking off into the countryside beyond.

Ness sounded confused as she answered. “You had seemed tired.”

“But I was sleeping the night before, and you said we travelled through the night then. Why did we stop last night and not the night before?”

The silence that followed made Eldred think she had decided to ignore him, and he was about to prompt her for an answer when she spoke. “I was… concerned for your wellbeing on that first night. You were unconscious, and after the incident with the grims, I wanted to be sure we were well away from the town. Ardghal and I tire far slower than you might expect- it is not unusual for us to ride on through a night.” They turned at a crossroads, taking a path that started to wind its way up a hill. The incline seemed to trouble the horse little, and he continued to gallop up its side as though it were flat ground. “Last night, however, you had woken up. I decided it would be best to let you get some rest without the interruptions and disturbances of travel. Besides, I figured you needed some food, as well.”

Her explanation had made some sense, although some of the details struck him as odd. The conversation had petered out from there, and the pair had returned to near silence, with their only accompaniment being the rhythmic clatter of Ardghal’s hooves on the packed dirt and occasional stone.