VI

Five clear days since I had left the palace, if not six. Time was beginning to possess more elasticity than it had once done, and I couldn’t be absolutely certain of it. Days since the crossroads in of that I was sure enough. The time between the leaving of my home and the arrival there I was less sure on. My thinking had lost a little clarity, but I placed it down upon the foot of the exertion and thought no more of it. 

Already hours had passed since I had attempted to scrape a corpse. I still felt a peculiar coldness inside and I couldn’t shake what I had seen from through those long dead eyes, although it begged to be remembered. 

The going down the hillside had been slow, with the numerous dead trees and branches piling upon the further down the hill we descended, due to the passing of time and the weather no doubt causing them to slip further down towards the bottom where they piled up. The weather seemed to have become more inclement, with the light drizzle intensifying, the wind pushing it more horizontally into the hillside. It was coming from the north - the direction in which we were travelling - and due to this there was a bite to it that hadn’t been there previously. For the first time during daylight hours and in the greatest exertion, I shivered and buttoned my ineffective jacket tighter. 

We arrived at the foot of the hill, the ranger having stopped and now leaning against a large boulder that seemed to form part of a natural boundary of rocks between the hillside and the rough trail we had spied those ill-omened figures slouch their way along earlier. 

I caught up with Pagailon and nervously drew myself beside him. I could feel his eyes on me but couldn’t find it within myself to meet his gaze. There wasn’t so much an erosion of trust, moreso that the small foothold of commonality that had threatened to formulate between us was unbalanced and had fallen into the abyss. I regretted taking in his services.

I simply could not trust the man. 

Even after he had saved your life. 

For what purpose I couldn’t know. 

Only to take it later. 

Just did not seem to ring true. Something was afoot here, something more than I had first figured. 

I could not trust this man. 

“Y’see erm far that, lookint’ gentle now. Gentle.” He spoke in a hushed tone and looked beyond where I had crumpled myself beside him. Over my head to the west, along the rutted trail. I followed his gaze and typically took some time to see what his keen eyes could. 

I looked east and back westwards. This trail seemed to bisect the land almost perfectly, being so unnaturally straight and devoid in both bend and hillock as to tail off towards the horizon in an almost illusionary manner. 

I shielded my eyes against the rain, wiping moisture from my brow. 

There. 

They were far but not so far. I would warrant should I be childish enough to cast myself from cover into the path and stand there for any luxurious time that they would see me. Slow movers, these creatures were, already dubbed so in my head for warrant of a more apt moniker. 

Slow movers. 

Still, they would have been at least an hour’s walk from where we were, as wood skelfs were they and currently as dangerous as such. Nevertheless, the ranger placed an arm across my chest when I attempted to send and take my pack. He pushed me back down nonchalantly, and such strength had he that I could do nothing but obey. 

“Tharn see ye, tap? Followon.”

I nodded. He wanted me to follow him. 

He stood and went around the far side of the boulder, I just behind him, moving away from the slow moving figures. The sky had darkened despite it only reaching towards midday, the rain heavier. I was soaked through well enough to realise it hadn’t yet rained since I’d left the wall, so fortunate was I. Now the true ineffectiveness of my clothing would become clear. Yet I was glad of the boulder, not keen to move away, as it blocked the worst of the rain. Ahead to the north was little. Too much moisture in the air. Too misty to see far ahead. I knew there to be the great forest, and the town of Guffernell. Beyond them the mountains. Yet all I could see was lapsed farmland, a broken and shattered fence perpendicular to the path. A fallow field with tall reed grass yawned ahead into the murk. Beyond that, I couldn’t tell. There looked to be no shelter, yet if that was our destination, then so be it. 

He moved quickly, so as to render himself sleight and fast. I almost lost sight of him in the moments from moving beyond from me. I glanced down the path and that same mist had drawn in westward also, the figures clear out of sight. They would be no risk now. Besides, I thought, I cannot move as stealthily as he and therefore it would do me no odds to try. I would look a fool - more than I did so already - and that settled the matter in my mind. 

I shouldered my pack properly and walked across the path, minding my feet on the uneven and ancient cart tracks that formed it. These trails were far from what I was used to. There was some farming land on the outer reaches of the kingdom, down towards the sea, yet I had no cause to go there. I was accustomed to fine paving and even surfaces, yet I once more was surprised at how I was taking to this new version of myself I seemed to be unearthing. 

I reached the far side of the trail, and successfully navigated the shallow ditch between it and the fragmented remains of the fencing. I threw my pack over and saw myself follow with minimal effort, exhaling noisily as I did so. Picking up my pack once more and standing tall, I scanned the fallow field for the ranger. 

I could see nothing save for the low mangle of grass and occasional reeds. I noted the latter, understanding this to mean how soft and wet the ground must be. I would need to take care. 

“Ranger,” I hissed, and then once more. Louder. Impatience creeping into my voice. I took a few careful steps forward and hissed again, louder still. I was taking umbrage to the man now. Had he forgotten into whose service he was indebted? 

A rough arm around my neck and I was down. Once more being manhandled. I had never so much as been touched by the unwashed before these recent days, let alone roughshorn to the ground, my face in the peaty earth. 

I rolled instinctively upon landing, my body through the dark water that had cooled at the roots of the grass. There was a darkness to the odour that permeated from the ground that I did not care for, and for a moment it reminded me of the smell that lingered beneath the fragranced herbs that surrounded my mother. I was soon on my back looking up at the slate grey sky, the rain on my face, my eyes. I sat up to a proffered hand that I initially rejected before realising that there was no way to get myself and the backpack I still had over my shoulders up from the spongy ground. I was hauled to my feet with the same strength that was applied when I was taken from them moments before, the ranger looking past me. Looking west. His face set and unreadable. 

“What is it?” I asked, burying my urge to berate him or what else might spill from my lips in the grip of my indignant outrage. 

He turned to me then and I saw a shadow of the man he once was. He had been no looter. There was too much fire there. 

“They’ve seen ye,” he said, low and even. HIs voice was more present, dangerous. 

“There’s no way these things could’ve - ” I began before my words died in my throat. I had caught a glimpse then, a subconscious scrape. There was no doubt, and no hint of a lie in his words. That blank page was less stained with blood and now soaked in it. Not only that, but I instinctively knew whose blood it was. 

It was ours. 

I hadn’t paid heed to him and I should have done. I trod with abandon across the trail because I assumed I knew more. 

“Ye thought’n thar beasties had yer gimmer eyes boy, ye fool.” He looked upon me with such contempt, and seemed to in turn read my own mind with such unerring accuracy that I felt my balls constrict. “Now that sleekin’ tae us. Thar’ll be followin’. We canna still. Tap?”

He was difficult to make out, particularly when his blood was up, but I got the gist of his words. They were coming. The slow movers. The things that I had assumed wouldn’t see me cross behind them, despite the distance, despite the haar. Despite the ranger’s warning. 

My face flushed at my own foolishness. My own arrogance. I had learned nothing in the past days. 

The ranger dredged up a ball of black tar from somewhere in his throat, launching it to where it melded with the murky water. 

“What do we do? I asked?”

Pagailon choked, and I thought that mayhap whatever he was chewing had become lodged within him, before I reapplied what in fact the noise was. He was laughing, or in the least attempting to. 

“We’n do nawt. Yer coin’s yer own an’ so’s yer aim.” He looked east, along the trail. He began to move towards the remains of the fence. 

“Wait,” I said, reaching for him. My arm brushing his shoulder. An involuntary cry of pain as he grabbed my Han, twisting it, pulling me close. 

“Yer done this. Yer on yer own,” he barked. No sense in silence now. 

He held me for a moment before pushing me back. I once more landed on my backside in the water. 

He continued to walk. Panic causing breathing to quicken.

“I’ll treble what I’ve promised,” I shouted. “If you’ll come back. Please.” I knew I was begging, but I didn’t care. As hostile as the man was, I had become used to his company, and his guidance. The all too recent memory of him stopping me from consuming the berries. Despite the lesson from the corpse, I couldn’t face being on my own. Not if what he said was true - and he believed it so. 

I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw him pause. Considering my offer. 

All to briefly. 

A shake of the head, almost imperceptible, and then he continued towards the path, over the fence and across the ditch, stealthily moving onwards and then off to the right, back up towards the hillside. 

He really was leaving. 

I was on my own.