The problem with the wild was not the wild itself, it was being in the wild and clearly not belonging there.

All squires learned how to light a fire, how to hunt, and the basics of reading a map. That was, almost entirely, the encompassment of his knowledge of wilderness survival.

Knights were supposed to have people with them.

People to collect water.

People to gather herbs.

Even people to dig a latrine.

That was the point of being a knight, he was supposed to lead people, not wander the woods alone.

Venic did not blame his uncle Dwenden, whom he had squired under. Instead, he blamed this whole situation for not being one that he should have to deal with.

It had been days since this horrible nightmare began. Days since he first left the castle, and days since he had set off into the forest.

'It is horrible out here.'

Insects bit unprotected skin, branches grabbed hold and cut burning scratches. The berries that looked like food certainly were not trustworthy. He had learned that lesson the very first day after mistaking wild cherries for who knows what they were, which resulted in him sick and feverish throughout the night.

Venic was sulking and he knew it, but he still could not help think about how unfair this whole situation was.

Even the very air felt —

He froze. A chill swept up his spine and his stomach tied into knots.

Venic had cleaned his hands each day until they were raw, and yet there it was; brownish-red in his nailbed. They were the smallest of specks, and yet all over again he felt that spiraling pull of guilt-fueled nausea that near forced him off his feet.

‘You have your friend's blood on you.’

Scrambling over to the nearby creek he plunged his hands into the glacier waters. Venic scrubbed desperately. He had to get all the evidence off; he had to.

His fingers numbing from the cold. He continued scrubbing.

‘You betrayed Jaten then killed him.’

Turbulent emotions bubbled up in him.

“This is not real,” he told himself. “This is not real.”

And that had been his motto as Venic spent his nights shivering against the cold and nightmares, as well as during his days heavy with hunger and dread.

“None of this is real,” he whispered out loud, as if that would make it true.

Venic wanted nothing more than to wake up in his feather bed that always seemed to smell of lavendar. He would open his eyes, and find that this all had been a horrible dream. Then later he would meet with Wilek and Jaten and …—

He sharply yanked pulled his dripping numb hands from the creek and heard a soft clink against his plate armor.

His necklace had gone loose from his tunic and was now dangling. The smoothed black stone caught the light reflecting off the creek hypnotically. It was nothing expensive; it was not even made with any sort of precious metals or jewels. The pendant was a simple beach rock with a natural hole through the center that a string had been fed through to fashion it as a necklace.

He stared at it as if in a trance, and focused on the memory of it.

As a young boy, he and his sister had been collecting rocks, and he had been so jealous when she had found this one that he threw a fit. Then, over a year later when he was being sent off, she gave it to him as a good luck charm.

The horrible thing was that — while he had traces of memory from being with her — it had been so long that he was not sure he remembered her face. Would he even have any hope of recognizing her if they met again? He had barely been 6 the last he had seen her.

He had the faint memory of hair that was almond and wavy like his own, but hers was long enough for him to recall comparing it to a horses tail. It was the silly thought of a child, but now it was a memory so rare he clung to it desperately.

Time had a way of fading memories like dyed cloth left in the sun. Even the bad ones, like watching his parents be executed, were fuzzy beyond repair. Mostly, he just recalled the fear, the confusion, and how raw his throat felt from screaming for people who were already gone.

Still, even after all this time, the past was tightly binding to that kingdom. All this — everything that was happening — was for a girl he was not sure he really remembered.

She was waiting for him even now. Everything depended on him.

‘Dafelis,’ He thought, as he staggered to his feet. Whenever the dark thoughts tried to freeze him, he repeated that name. ‘Dafelis, Dafelis, Dafelis.'

One foot in front of the other; that's all he had to do.

Venic felt like he was in half a dream. He could feel the bruises and cuts from where the armour was crushed in and the weight of his weary feet and tired eyes, but the landscape went by in a cloudy blur.

Just keep walking.

He just had to keep walking.

‘What am I doing here?’ he wondered, and not for the first time.

He wanted to go home. He wanted a full course cooked meal, ale, and a feathered bed. But he had given that all up.

‘This was your choice.’

Every tree, every rock, it all looked the same to him.

‘I am walking in circles. Why did I think I could do this?’

As Venic was getting ready to give up on the day and sleep it all away and try again tomorrow, evidence of a past avalanche lay before him. The snow and ice had long since melted, but the toppled trees and rocks remained, clearing a path.

Venic almost cried out in relief.

He had been going in the right direction! Even if it took longer than expected to get here.

Mount Hyllpeak rose up high into the clouds, and he stood at the base of it.

He did not know if he wanted to cry out in relief or panic over the daunting height of it.

He started the climb.

Once it became steep, Venic stripped all his armour that was steadily becoming too heavy and confining. He tucked it in a bush, meaning full well to come back for it. However, walking away from it still stung bitterly.

Venic had worked almost his whole lifetime to become a knight, and even if it had all been for a lie, he earned the right to wear that armour and carry his title.

Leaving it behind felt like he was parting with a piece of himself.

‘It was never you,’ he reminded himself. ‘You are a spy; you always were. You just got caught up in your own lie.’

And it was a lie he very much wished he could have kept living.

Instead, he didn’t look back at his abandoned armour.

There was no going back.

Now, he had a mountain to climb and a castle to loot.