The days began to slip by with unprecedented ease. Spring brought the group a new warmth, each shedding in turn the heavy furs and thick coats that winter in the middle kingdoms so often required. The sinewy tendrils of the now-predominantly ash forest along which the Wood Road ran was beginning to show signs of life. As the four reached the township of Summerberry, each was delighted to find the expansive fields flushing a thin layer of green and yellow. The hills to the north were blanketed in flax and wheat beginning to push up from their canals, while the endless rows of gentle green bushes weighed heavy with tart, golden berries that were the town’s namesake had yet to bloom.
The four trailed behind a merchant into town, keeping just enough behind his trundling cart that he wouldn’t feel like they were trailing him along the path cut through the fields. Bandits in the region had been scarce; the four had not yet been stopped once to pay an exorbitant tax or tithe to an unknown patron.
Finde sighed as she and her companions passed under the hung banner that acted as Summerberry’s gate. This was not a settlement strong or wary enough to build a surrounding wall, let alone a proper door to keep out unwanted guests. Should any horror, be it beast or man or of some other kind, decide to prey upon the town, she wouldn’t bet a copper coin that a single soul would be alive come dawn.
Summerberry was peaceful in a fashion Finde found particularly vexing. The houses were simple thatched affairs erected from the timber hauled over from the surrounding forest, a dense arrangement of elm and evergreen spruce that bordered the rolling farmland. Ribbons were tied to the gutters of most houses to welcome spring. The farmers and townsfolk wore bright, earnest smiles, and were known to offer generosity and a strong hand when the need arose.
Finde couldn’t wait to be gone. Still, opportunities availed themselves to the clever adventurer who looked for the glint of secrets everywhere they travelled.
While Brandy allowed herself to be pulled away by Slayter as he sought out the town’s temple—no icon-adorned steeples or thick stone houses were immediately visible from the town’s centre—Finde asked a bonneted woman selling honeygrouds by the pond’s edge where she might find lodging. A hesitant finger directed the scholar to the Millstreet tavern.
A crick ran through the centre of town, ultimately feeding into a pond at the base of an old windmill. The mill had once overlooked a mighty river that bisected the town; while the river had dwindled long ago, irrigated and robbed of its momentum, the mill survived, its owners having converted the edifice into the tallest tavern within the town’s limits.
Looking back, the scholar saw Theo standing at the pond’s edge, lost in stillness. She thought about nudging him as he stared into the pond’s reflection, to collect him and bring him along with her, but decided against breaking his reverie. The man’s eyes seemed cloudy with dark thoughts, and Finde told herself that to intrude on the introspection of someone so clearly troubled would be at best rude.
Under the warm morning sun, Theo had loosened his collar and Finde could make out several faint white scars up and along his neck, all healed smooth but still nonetheless visible. She doubted they would ever fade from his body entirely. One particular scar drew her attention: a thin white circle that seemed to wind around Theo’s whole neck, as if her companion’s head had been cleaved from his body, only for Theo to somehow awaken with it reattached.
As she walked away from the pond up the street, Finde found herself wondering about the events that had brought Theo eastward, about the strange disease that had plagued him. He had mentioned a vanishing village, but perhaps that too was robbed from his memory. He had survived some barrage—he had countless ghostly wounds and a vicious scythe to prove it— but at what cost, hidden or forgotten?
Dwelling on the stalker’s body, she lamented her inattention to the more practical studies of biology and medicine. Despite her efforts to unearth secrets that defied or outright broke the rules of existence, Finde had not put much time into learning natural laws.
“If nature can so easily be circumvented, twisted, or wrenched into another direction,” Finde had thought on multiple occasions, “why bother learning nature’s form? My time would be better spent learning the art of its manipulation.”
Still, medicine and the examination of the body interested her. The idea of looking over Theo’s bare form, perhaps covered head to toe in those mysterious, pale scars, intrigued the scholar.
Finde shivered and pulled her robes closer. As the scholar made her way up the street to the Millstreet tavern, she wondered if this chill came from without or within. There was something about Theo’s scars, something about the bizarre unfolding scythe he carried as his defence, that tugged at the back of her mind, like a sleeping eye darting about under its closed lid. Finde shuddered under the sun’s warmth.
Despite the day’s heat penetrating her layers, the armour she wore hidden out of sight felt cold, still stiff from the lingering chill night the group had slept through. She longed for a blazing hearth and a warm, hearty meal. A night’s quiet comfort in a forgettable, peaceful town, unconcerned about bandits or anything more dangerous than the familiar pack of wolves that ventured out from the forest to make attempts on the local sheep and cattle was well worth a few coins.
Theo caught up with Finde before she got very far. He gave a sheepish grin as he jogged up to walk alongside her.
“Sorry about that. I’ve been getting foggy whenever I enter a town.” He gave an embarrassing shrug. “It clears quickly, thankfully, but I can’t figure out why it comes over me.”
Finde raised an eyebrow, though it was of course hidden beneath the shawls wrapping her head. They walked in silence beside the crick, passing the town’s simple houses without further conversation. As the pair neared the long-still windmill, Finde slowed to a soft pace. Her footfalls were all but silent amidst the bustle of passing townsfolk. She shook her head to herself and turned to face Theo.
“Have you found yourself feeling your,” Finde waved her hand in a vague gesture, “your fog in other places? On the road? As we’ve been travelling?”
Theo scratched his chin, letting his eyes wander up the windmill’s height. “I don’t think so. Sometimes when I wake in the night, but that’s just dreams. I mean, it could be something else.” A serious look drifted over his long face, casting dark shadows in his eyes. “Do you think I’ve been struck by something new? Some sickness of these lands? Should I find a physicker?”
Finde held up her hands. “You misunderstand. I am merely curious whether your state comes upon you in the wilds or only within settlements.”
“Oh. I think it’s just in cities.” The clouds passed and Theo’s face relaxed. “I’ll have to keep an eye out for the fog when it comes.”
“Please do,” Finde nodded. “I’d be curious to find its source.”
Theo smiled and pushed open the tavern’s door for his companion. “I’m more curious to find a drink. We’ve been too long on the road without proper comfort.”
Finde smiled beneath her shawls. “Agreed.”
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