“The road!” Greta whooped in glee as she jumped up and down excitedly. Rall joined her in excitement when he first saw the hard-packed wide road from Gaerbron to Lussax. He didn’t recognize where they were along the road because he hadn’t paid much attention the first time along it, and it hardly mattered anyway because they weren’t lost in the woods anymore!

Cale rested his eyes as he lay on the straw-filled mattress shifting his mind away from thoughts of the insects that roamed his bedding for the night. The evening’s events had been profitable, a few games of chance and some hustling down by the docks had his purse brimming with coin. With the gold from his last employment and a judicious hand in spending, he wouldn’t need to take another job for a few years.

The idea of stepping back from his current line wasn’t all that unpleasant. Killing had become somewhat tiring as of late, a break was needed if only to keep himself sharp.

A slight change in the ambient sound of his room prompted Cale to crack open an eye. To his amusement he observed a specter of his last employer Xabriar floating at his bed post looking rather displeased. “Something wrong my dear wizard?”

Xabriar scowled in disgust, and Cale presumed it was directed at himself. “I have another job for you, assassin.”

“A job you say? Why pray tell do you assume that I seek a job? I’m quite busy as you can see.” The wild-eyed rage and disbelief on the wizard’s leathery face almost caused Cale to crack up with laughter. “There’s a young lady at the bakery, a few more nights of wooing and...”

“Silence!” the specter boomed. Cale’s eyes narrowed as the wizard continued, the specter flickering like a bonfire over his bed. But the sorcerer managed to take control of himself, and offered a dark smile. “I do in fact have a job for you. One I find most vexing. I believe you are in a position to solve my problem, and in return I offer you what you most desire.”

“Right, what I most desire, then? What would a high and mighty master sorcerer know of the desires of a lowly assassin? And, what monster of a foe could rattle one of your abilities in such a way? Maybe a challenge will make it worth my time.” Cale kicked back again, wondering if the sorcerer was trying to send him after a demon or faerie creature. Such things were always a challenge, and would draw a hefty price.

The spectral image of Xabriar waved a hand as if wafting smoke away, and the image melted into wisps of fog, only to reform quickly into a picture of two half-dead waifs dressed in rags, one toting a shortsword that looked more like a broadsword by comparison to her young form. It was in fact the two girls he’d met in the forest, fleeing the slave pens. What threat could these two children possibly offer the greatest sorcerer in the region?

“Such fierce enemies you have, master sorcerer. You flatter me, to presume I can defeat this menace.” Xabriar’s face appeared again, contorted again into rage as Cale’s sarcastic reply hit home, but he appeared to take several deep breaths and schooled his features.

“It is no business of yours what threat they pose. For those two girls’ deaths I offer you more riches than you can spend in a hundred years, should you wish it.” That sly smile had returned, clearly the sorcerer thought Cale would be swayed by this.

“I think not. It’s not even worth my time. Send one of your lesser demons, it will eat them both alive in moments.”

“I’m afraid not, these two require your hand. Perhaps you recall my first payment for your services rendered? A few precious minutes to see a certain dearly departed sister again, peering through the veil? Once these two are dealt with and my power secured, I will be able to pull your darling sister from the beyond. Think of it my dear assassin, your beloved Bekah back in your arms to protect and hold. And all you have to do is kill two girls who look as if they might die in the woods anyway. A rare reward for so easy work.”

The sorcerer smirked victoriously, and Cale looked down in shame. For Bekah he would kill anyone, he would give anything, even his very soul. He had already killed more people than he could even count; a blackened soul for his sister seemed like a sucker’s bargain. If he had her back, he would never kill again.

“Very well. This is it, the last job I do for you,” he spat, “and you will bring Bekah back to me. It is a contract, sworn and bound.”

Turning his back on the wizard Cale wiped away the tears that pooled in corner of his eyes “Know this wizard, if you renege I’ll hunt you into the depths of the underworld. There can be no mercy if you toy with me on this.”

Throwing on a thick cloak, Cale leapt from the inn’s window leaving the shade to its own devices. The thought of sleeping that night had been soured, truly Cale wondered if he would be able to sleep again at all, until this job was done.

---

“The road!” Greta whooped in glee as she jumped up and down excitedly. Rall joined her in excitement when he first saw the hard-packed wide road from Gaerbron to Lussax. He didn’t recognize where they were along the road because he hadn’t paid much attention the first time along it, and it hardly mattered anyway because they weren’t lost in the woods anymore!

“Come on, I know exactly where we are now, and there’s a farm just up the road where we can ask for help. My family has traded goods with them for years, and they’re very kind people.” Greta grabbed Rall’s hand, her vigor renewed by her excitement, and dragged him along in a weary jog.

“Alright, alright, you don’t need to pull my arm off!” Rall giggled, just as caught up in the moment as she.

“Rana, think of warm beds, hot food, a bath...” He picked up his pace, and soon outpaced her by a few yards.

When they approached an old farmhouse, a sprawling building with a thatched roof and clay-and-straw brick walls, Greta slowed and waved to a man working in the field. He waved back and dropped his plow, patting the large beast that was pulling it comfortingly, then hurried to greet them.

“Oh my word, Greta, is that you?“ The man yelled from the field, “By the First, why are you here, the caravan rushed past days ago! Your father was awfully scared for you and... Rana is it? I think he left word with every farm and village from here to Lussax!” As he got closer and took in more of their appearance, the man placed a hand on each of their shoulders and turned them toward the house.

“Dear me, you look a fright! Come on to the house, Marta will see you fed and clothed properly. Come on, girls, don’t dawdle now, she’ll have my ears if she thinks I’ve kept you out in the cold the way you look!”

Rall’s stomach growled furiously as he noticed the wondrous aroma of baking biscuits emanating from the the farm house. “Greta?” questioned a an older graying woman as they both where led into the house. “What has happened to you?”

“Well, we took on Rana here to get her away from an abusive man, but we were attacked by bandits a few days out of Gaerbron. I didn’t see the fight, but I guess they got the drop on the caravan while Rana and I were bathing in the stream. They killed poor Ander. Anyway, Rana and I didn’t know what happened until we walked into the mess. They captured us and took us to the slavers’ tent city, but there was a fire and we both managed to escape.”

As Greta explained, Rana kept her peace. The older woman, Marta, sat them both down in front of a very warm hearth, and poured bowls of thick stew from a pot hanging over it for them. She also placed a small basket of still-steaming biscuits between the pair on the swept stone floor. The heat brought life to both girls and Rana had to work very hard to eat slowly like Greta was in spite of his twisting stomach. It took every bit of will he had left not to wolf it all down, burned tongue or no.

“It’s been scary, travelling the woods with little in the way of provisions, and Rana doesn’t know very much about the forest because she has never travelled before, but we managed our way back to the road, just past the old lightning-struck tree. Once I saw that, I knew where we were, and so we came here. I’m sorry to be a burden on you, but we really needed the help, and we both appreciate the food very much!” She looked at Rall who nodded, his mouth full.

Marta, who had been sitting watching them eat with a motherly sort of expression, tut-tutted.

“It’s no bother at all, Greta, not at all! You’ve always been a joy, child, and your father has always dealt fairly with us. It would be my shame if I couldn’t help a good friend’s daughter in her need. And you too, Rana, we take care of those in need around these parts. You just get warmed up and I’ll start a fire under the rain barrel. You both look like you brought half the forest with you!”

After eating as much of the wonderful meal as Rall could stuff into his stomach while maintaining the image of civility, he and Greta where led to a steaming rain barrel big enough for the both of them. “Well get to undressing and get in.” Marta chided.

Rall’s eyes widened in terror as he looked towards Greta for support. Greta looked oddly at him for a moment, then comprehension dawned in her eyes and she winked to Rall. “Aunty, Rana is as shy as mouse. It will be hard enough just to have her bathe with me, let alone change in front of anyone else.”

“Oh dear, well then I'll leave you be.” Marta replied with a shake of her head “I’ll see what I can do for clothes.”

Once he was certain Marta was out of view and earshot, Rall quickly stripped and climbed into the barrel. The water was as close to scalding as Rall had ever felt, but he knew if he took too long getting in he would more likely be caught, so he slipped all the way in with a hiss of pain.

To his shock Greta began to disrobe as well. He tried to turn his head when he realized, but he couldn’t help catching a glimpse. She was clearly a woman, not a girl!

“You’ll have to get used to it you know, if you’re to continue this disguise. It’s not uncommon for women to bathe together, or change clothes together, and if you’re beet red every time you do, people will start to ask questions.” Greta said matter-of-factly as she slipped into the water. Rall tried not to think of her soft smooth skin brushing against him in the hot water.

“Do I have to continue it? I mean, we’re not in Gaerbron anymore. Master Xabriar won’t come searching for me out here. And you said yourself we have to tell your parents.”

“Well, yes, we do have to tell them. I won’t lie to them, Rana. But where would you change? Two girls have no need of boys’ clothing, so we can’t just buy some without arousing suspicion. and Aunty would definitely be upset if you changed into a boy suddenly. Besides, what if your teacher sent people to find you? You’re not the first person we’ve smuggled out of one town or another to escape such treatment. And as often as not, they hire men or give chase personally. Those kind of people don’t like to give up what they consider their property. Are you certain he won’t hire someone to find you? Someone who will be looking for a boy, not a girl?”

Sliding deeper into the tub Rall though over what Greta was saying. His master was a truly terrible person. But he was a worthless apprentice, why would he wast such energy and effort to chase him? But Greta seemed convinced of the possibility, and continuing the ruse was really no hardship at all, it was even fun in some ways.

“Rana you really have to have someone look at those red scales, they’re all over you back and legs.”

Rall had completely forgotten them, but being reminded he looked down at his arms. Thousands of tiny red scales crept up them, soft and smooth as his skin but with a different texture. He tapped them gently with a dirty fingernail, and could feel the touch.

“Maybe it’s a curse. I wouldn’t be surprised to find that something Master Xabriar owned was terribly cursed.” Even as he said it he couldn’t believe it. The words felt wrong.

“What ever the case may be, girl or boy those scales will draw attention sooner or later.”

“I don’t know what I can do about it. It’s not like I can wave my hand and make them disappear...” Waving his hand jokingly as he spoke, the water rippled about over his skin. It was is if each little wave slowly erased and dulled each scale until all he was left with was the same pale pink skin that he had been born with. Rall almost drowned in his surprise, and came up sputtering.

“Rana! How did you do that?” Greta took his arm in her hand excitedly, giving him an odd look. “They’re still there, I can feel them, but I can’t see them at all!”

“It’s a glamour.” he shook his head in disbelief “But... but I don’t know how to cast a glamour spell. By the First, I don’t know how to cast a spell at all!”

Shivering in the heat of the water, Rall looked over at the rusted sword in its sheath, lying atop the soiled and torn dress not even a yard away. “I need to get to Lussax and speak to one of the city’s practitioners and have that sword looked over. This is too strange even for my master’s workings!”

---

Corana knelt over the young man who’d just saved her life. His wounds looked grave, but she couldn’t tell past the hardened leather of his breastplate. Woric struggled in the binding she held him in, but it was designed to prevent him casting anything, either by word or motion. Even his fingers were bound. So she ignored him and set to cutting Arron’s armor off him. By the blood on the floor, he might be at death’s door. As the straps on the armor parted, they revealed a long ragged gash along his side, but nothing through any vital organs.

“Hold on, Arron, I’ll be right back.” She lay him against the stone floor and hurried to her bench. Rifling through beakers and flasks in a frenzy until she came up with the one she was looking for and hurried back to the downed man. His bleeding was slowing, a sign that his heart was weakening.

“This will hurt a quite a lot...” She said mostly to herself as poured the vial of red liquid over the gaping wound. She focused and waved her one good arm in an arcane pattern over his arm, intoning words of power, and the flesh around Arron’s wound boiled in a chaotic mess of destruction and creation as the regenerative magics accelerated Arron bodies healing to unnatural levels. The horrid smell of burning flesh assaulted Corana’s nose, twisting her stomach into knots. It was an act of sheer will power not to turn about and vomit, as even the slightest lapse in focus could mean Arron’s life.

As the last globs of flesh melded into a ragged pinkish scar, Corana finally fell to her knees, gasping. After the fight, that kind of healing took nearly everything she had. She glanced over at Woric, but her spell held leaving him still dangling upside down over her workbench. The disgusted look on his face likely mirrored her own, she thought.

A slowly forming welt on Woric’s cheek gave Corana pause to thank the gods. If Arron’s sword had not struck hilt first at the peak of his spell she would become nothing more then a smoldering pile of ash. She felt a bit of regret that the sword hadn’t struck true, removing the world of one such as Woric would have been more to her liking. But in truth a living Woric was more ideal.

She glanced back to Arron, who groaned and stirred, but did not arise.

“Be still, Arron, you’re safe but you’ve lost a lot of blood. You’ll need some time to recover. You saved my life, you know. Your sword kept Master Woric here from incinerating me. So, why don’t you just close your eyes and rest while I discuss a few things with our guest.” She calmly retrieved a vial from her workbench and held it under his nose for a few moments. The liquid inside would put him in a rejuvenating slumber, and as an added bonus prevent him having to hear a high sorcerer scream.

She turned back to Woric with a cold smile. “Now. I believe you would like to explain a few things to me.” Picking up a few more vials from her workbench, and a knife normally used to strip and cut herbs. “Let’s get this over with, I have more pleasant things to do with my time.”

---

Arron woke slowly, head pounding and weak like he’d spent an entire day drinking old ale and brawling. Every part of him hurt, except his ribs which were curiously numb. He opened his eyes cautiously and was rewarded for his caution with blindingly bright light.

“Don’t open your eyes just yet, you’ll need a few minutes to adjust. You’ve been in a heavy recovering sleep, and your whole body will need to wake slowly. You saved my life, you know. Thank you for that.”

Arron coughed to clear his throat nearly passing out from the hot pains that radiated from his chest, “Anything for a lady.. how long?”

Slowly the blurry image of Corana kneeling over him resolved itself from the blinding whiteness. “Three and a half days.”

Arron mind spun. “The sorcerer?” he questioned.

“Alive, but I’m sure he’s wishing your sword struck home. He has been very informative in the last two days, once I offered him the right incentives.”

“Incentives?” Arron’s head still throbbed, but that sounded clear enough to him. “You tortured him?” He struggled to sit up, but his arms simply would not support him.

“I loathe the necessity, but it was the only way to get what we need to know from him.” she responded in haste. “Xabriar is mad. His obsession with power these last years has led him to construct a ritual, a collection of rituals really, that would gather together enough power to transcend him into godhood.”

“Corana... I appreciate all you’ve done to help me and Rall, but you can’t just torture people for answers! I can’t help you if that’s the kind of work you do. That’s how people like Xabriar do things, not people like us.”

“People like you. I can not in good faith turn a blind eye to any source of knowledge that will save this city. If i had not known where to look I would have missed much of what Xabriar has done. He turns the natural forces of the earth to his own needs, corrupting the land and angering the natural gods. And if he is not stopped, the whole city will be destroyed in the backlash of his ascension. If I have to do a few unsavory things to save everyone, then I will accept the stain on my soul. I love this city and these people far too much to do otherwise.”

Arron slumped back down closing his eyes while swallowing down a bitter taste in his mouth. “Corana... I understand your position, I really do. Maybe if I were in your position I would make the same choice. But I’m not, and I must admit I am not comfortable with it.”

“Good. If you were, I would be concerned.” she remarked as she poured herself a cup of hot tea. “I’m not either, in fact it makes me ill. But what must be done must be done.”

Slowly pouring another cup she offered it to Arron. “It’s a special restorative blend of mine, it should help with the pain.”

Accepting the cup as Corana propped him up in what he thought might be her own bed, Arron sipped thoughtfully. “What do you plan to do next? I can’t see the council helping, not after capturing and torturing the Praetor.”

“The council is useless, the only thing we should concern ourselves with now is stopping Xabriar.” A flash of a smirk crossed Corana’s face as she turned about. “And someone else agrees, because one of his rituals was unravelled. Whoever did it may already be on their way to the next one, and I mean to help.”

Rummaging through her work space she pulled out an old map and began to plot out distances with chalk over the leather surface. “No doubt Xabriar knows too, and has already sent something to stop them. His eye will be on them, and that means we can attack another while he is focused elsewhere. I’ve done some calculations over the last day, and I think the rituals would have to be located in these five positions. One for each of the cardinal elements, in places where ley lines intersect.”

“Alright...” Arron drawled, “but what does that mean?”

“It means that whoever broke the first one will most likely go to this one or this one next,” she indicated on the map two places where she had marked as likely ritual spots. One spot between the two was circled and a line drawn through it. “And we should try to destroy this one here.” So saying, she indicated a spot further south, in the center of a very large lake, the source of the river Rastell, on which Lussax was the main trade port.

“Those are a lot of assumptions you are making, how do you know the other person will go there?” Arron questioned.

“I don’t, but there’s no disadvantage regardless. In the worst case we meet up with our mysterious ally and help prevent Xabriar from killing them.”

Slowly Arron pulled himself of the bed and hobbled over to the map Corana has hovering over. “This location is a good month’s travel by horse, do we have time to be running amok in the countryside? Its also awfully close to the savage lands, and I have little desire to run into fairy folk.”

“The fairy folk aren’t as bad as the stories make them out to be, but all the same I agree it would be better to avoid them. Most of the time they won’t accost travellers anyway.”

Scratching his chin, Arron added, “If they are even a fraction as bad as the stories say then I don’t want to even go near their lands.”

“Ahhh here it is,” Corana announced as she held up an old gold coin. She had been sifting through the remnants on her workbench again, but found what she was looking for in a pouch carried by one of the dead guards.

“And what is that then?” He peered at the coin as if it might hold some secret solution to all of their problems. It was embossed with a river on one side, and a smiling face Arron didn’t recognize on the other.

Corana laughed playfully, “Well my dear knight, this is our travel arrangement.”

Perplexed, Arron pressed “I’m sorry I don’t follow, how does a gold coin help us travel over a hundred and fifty leagues?”

“The coin is a token of services rendered by an ancient spirit that I have had dealings with.” she offered, shrugging her shoulders. “Helping a few mere mortals travel such a distance will be trivial for such a being.”

Shaking his head Arron muttered, “Master sorcerers, demons, torture, and now spirits. Rall, you really pulled me into the muck this time.”

---

Cale rode hard in pursuit of the caravan. He’d listened to the stories about a daring attack by slavers on a merchant caravan. They also told stories of two girls by the names Greta and Rana. Greta was apparently the daughter of the prominent caravan owner Valan, and Rana a guest on her way to Lussax to escape a devilish father. This played right into Cale’s hands.

“Hold, caravan! Are you Valan’s men? I’m Jord, and I want to join the search for my neice, Rana!” He’d run his horse quite hard for over an hour so as to appear the desperate kin determined to save his neice.

“Ah, I had hoped one of her kin might come to join the search! Well met friend, we have water and feed for both you and your horse. You look as if you might be handy in a fight, and if we meet slavers it will likely come to that.”

Spitting at the ground, an act not completely without feeling, Cale growled, “Disgusting men slavers are. I will not spare even one until Rana is returned safe to my arms.”

The nod from Valan told all that Cale need to know. He had bought the story wholly. “I have heard stories in Lussax that slaves have been turning up, freed in a fire of some sort. The details change with every telling, but it could be good news.”

Valan nodded “As have I, but there no guarantee that Greta and Rana where amongst the escapees. It would be best to head for the encampment and see for ourselves. I hope to simply buy their freedom, but if it comes to blades we are ready.”

Cale watched the man for a moment. Valan was a clever man, he was not about go of hunting ghosts in the woods just yet. This did not bode well for Cale’s own plans; if they wasted their time seeking the slavers, Greta and Rana would be in Lussax proper before they even began to search the woods.

Taking a risk, Cale pushed on, “I have also heard tales of two girls being amongst the escapees traveling through the wood. One blond, the other red haired.”

Valan gave Cale a quizzical look “I have yet to hear such stories,” he paused for a moment “if they have escaped why have they not reached Lussax on their own then? My daughter is an accomplished survivor.”

Nodding his agreement “True, I do wonder that myself. But even for a seasoned woodsman the forest surrounding Lussax holds many hidden dangers.” Leaning closer to Valan he added, “The worst the slavers will do is sell them, at any rate we can still track them with enough coin. The woods are the real danger.”

“You may be right...” Valan said, unsure of himself just the way Cale needed him to be.

“I don’t mean to tell you how to run your search, Master Valan. I just can’t help but think of my poor Rana in the wilds. She’s city bred, you see. I never should have trusted my brother-in-law to raise my sister’s daughter alone. She must be scared out of her mind!” Valan nodded in empathy, clearly concerned for both girls.

“You are right, Jord. We will search the forests on both sides of the road as we travel west. If they are free, my daughter will certainly help protect Rana, and will lead them to the road. We’ll have to stop and ask every farm and village along the way. It will slow our travel, but it does seem the most likely way.”

“My thanks, I think I’ll help myself to that food you offered.” Turning his horse Cale couldn’t help smiling. With luck the caravan would find the girls in a couple of days.

---

Rana struggled to pull on the light red dress, but it just wouldn’t go up around his hips. Greta smiled to herself for a moment as she watched before commenting.

“Hey, don’t be so dull, it goes on over your head! And there’s another button you forgot to undo.” she finally advised him. The two were dressing hurriedly after the bath, both feeling much improved and cleaner too. Finally Rana managed to get things in order mostly, though Greta had to help him button it closed.

“Are you girls finished out there? It’s time to get some sleep, then we can send word to your father in the morning.” So saying she took them by the arms and led them both to a room in the house set up with a bed. It looked like one or more of Oman and Marta’s children had lived in this room before marrying and moving away. There was only one bed, but to Greta it looked like heaven.

“We can share, we’ll have to squeeze in close though.” Rana blushed when she said it; it was so easy to forget she was a boy. He was a boy. Well, she’d seen him nude and honestly it was still hard to be sure.

“We’ve been sleeping this way for near a fortnight, no reason to be shy about it now.” She pushed Rana into the bed then pulled up behind her to snuggle in. In the warmth of the shared embrace and comforter, the pair both fell asleep almost immediately.

---

For two days they stayed with Oman and Marta, helping with the chores and enjoying the comforts of a real house and safety. Word came back that Greta’s father and his caravan would arrive in five days, and the whole terrifying adventure seemed to be coming to a close and Rana and Greta could relax.

Until the night Rana woke Greta in the darkest part of the night.

“Hey, where are you going?” Greta rubbed her eyes and looked at Rana, who was tying boot laces under a heavy woolen skirt and strapping her swordbelt to her hip. The smaller girl didn’t answer, in fact didn’t even acknowledge she was being spoken to.

“Hey! You’re leaving aren’t you! I won’t let you!” she reached out to grab Rana’s arm, but Rana didn’t respond at all, simply shrugging her arm loose and heading for the door. Greta slipped on her own skirt and blouse quickly and collected her knife, then chased Rana to the front door of the house. She jumped in front of the door, but Rana didn’t even react, and reached for the door handle past Greta’s left hip. In the dim light of the almost-full moon, Greta finally saw Rana’s eyes, they appeared glazed and unfocused.

“You’re... sleepwalking?” She tied on her own boots right there in the doorway as Rana tried to get past calmly and determinedly, as if trying to find a decent way to scrabble over a rock. Greta managed to get herself ready, grabbed her own knife and followed, hoping merely to keep Rana from hurting herself. Her mother had once told her of the danger of waking a sleep walker. How their soul could be lost forever to the underworld!

The pair walked through the fields toward the southeast, Rana leading the way like some sort of mindless golem. Every time Greta thought of that brief glimpse she caught of Rana’s eyes she shivered. Rana was strong and vital, and seeing that missing from her eyes seemed wrong in a bad way.

Rana walked on and on, At first Greta tried to guide her back. But every time Rana would shrug off her guiding hand and continue on. Greta was becoming progressively more angry at herself for her own mistake. She should have called Auntie Marta and Uncle Oman for help. Now she couldn’t even run back without risking losing Rana.

Her hand tightened into a fist as she made up her mind. Her mother’s warning about waking sleepwalkers be damned, she grabbed Rana’s arm with a solid grip and forcibly turned her about face.

“Hey! Wake up!” She yelled, her nose inches from Rana’s. When Rana didn’t respond, she slapped her, hard. Rana fell in a heap, Greta tried to catch her but couldn’t.

“Wha... the hells?” came Rana’s confused response, as she blinked desperately, trying to soothe dry, aching eyes and understand why she wasn’t in a warm bed.

“Rana! You’re awake! Are you okay? I didn’t mean to slap you so hard, but you wouldn’t wake up and you just kept walking...” Greta helped Rana to her feet again and dusted leaves off her as the smaller figure gained her bearings.

“Why am I dressed and out in the forest again? I’m sure I remember going to bed... Did you bring me out here?” Rana seemed a bit slow gathering her wits, but was getting there. Greta looked up at the stars for a moment, then back toward the farmhouse, though she could no longer see it.

“You were sleepwalking. You got dressed and just walked out of the house, with this strange blank stare. You still had that spark like you do now, like fire, but there was nothing else, and you wouldn’t speak or anything.”

Rana looked at her as if she had lost her mind, but then took stock of their surroundings and nodded. “I’ve never walked in my sleep before. Why would I start now? Let’s go back...”

Greta was nodding, but as Rana trailed off and looked back the direction she’d been walking in her sleep Greta started to worry.

“Rana, come on, we have to turn back, father will be there in two days!”

Rana shook off her confusion and nodded, but when the two turned back Greta found their path blocked. Trees that she *knew* weren’t there minutes ago completely obscured the direction from which they came. Thick brambles grew two paces high around the trees and as far as she could see either direction like a wall.

“Rana...” she started in growing terror, but the wind interrupted her, blowing through the trees in a breathy voice.

“Don’t go back...”

Rana looked at her, then up at the trees. They weren’t moving, aside from leaves fluttering in the soft wind of the night breeze, but Greta knew she heard it too.

“Why not? What do you want from us?” Rana called out to the trees. Greta was struck by the absurdity of the situation, but the still-churning fear in her stomach proved stronger.

“Danger.... Death... if you return... Debt to you...” The wind whispered once again through the trees.

Rana nodded with a resigned sigh, “I guess we are heading for Lussax.”

“You can’t be serious!“ Greta grasped, “You’re going to listen to a crazed forest god?” Rana pointed at the trees and thorny thicket.

“Well, I don’t think it means us harm, and it might be right... But mostly, I don’t think we’ll be able to go back.” Greta frowned looking back at the barricade, but had to admit to herself it didn’t look likely.

“Oh, fine! At least we have clothes and supplies this time. Aunty and Uncle and Father are going to worry themselves sick though.”

“It’s only a few days’ travel, right? We’ll have to send word when we arrive. It’s not like we have another choice.” This didn’t make Greta feel any better, but she couldn’t argue it either.

“Fine. We can head for the river and follow it to town. We’re not far from it anyway, and the river means clean water for bathing, and food.” Having settled on a decision, Greta began walking again, this time leading Rana.