Quintus pulled the last strap on his cross and leaned it near the door. The sun wasn’t quite up yet, but he needed an early start if he wanted to make it to the waypoint before sundown. If he headed southeast around the gulf, he could avoid any major roads and company. Hopefully, the woods weren’t too overgrown and still had some game he could hunt for food. He’d grown sick of ocean fodder.

That just left one problem. He looked at Gavrael, who sat on the couch, elbows planted on his knees and hand clasped in front of his face. His eyes reminded Quintus of the sea, that stormy grey-green-blue. He was a little on the pale side, and somewhat gaunt in the face, probably from being tossed by the sea and wrung out to dry on the shore.

His gaze was on the hearth as though it held all his secrets, all his memories. He wore slacks and a tunic, along with a pair of sturdy boots they’d found the previous day that were a touch too big for him. They’d stuffed some cotton in the toes to compensate.

Quintus breathed a sigh through his nose. He’d hoped Gav would’ve at least remembered something by now, but the guy had woken up just as clueless as the day before. Which left Quintus at an impasse. Leave him here. Or take him. Travel with a stranger. Dear gods, was he actually considering it?

“It’s alright,” Gav said. “You can go. I’ll figure something out.” He didn’t look at Quintus as he said it and fiddled with the straps on his camping bag. “Surely I should at least be able to find my way to a village.”

Quintus was tempted, so tempted to just hand over a map and point him towards Ewell. But looking at Gav, sitting there, lost and helpless, he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He was all in on this hero nonsense, and now he’d grown… feelings. Damn it.

“No.” Quintus said. “It’s fine. You can stick with me a while longer if you want.”

Gavrael looked up at him, one dark brown eyebrow arched. “Are you sure? You seemed pretty keen on going off on your own. And I’d hate to get in the way of your plans.”

How polite. “Bold of you to assume I have plans.” Quintus picked up his cross and shouldered it. “We need to head out now so we can be sheltered by sundown.”

“Alright.” Gavrael stood and stared at the chair he’d lied on for the better part of their stay in the city. They’d packed up a few of the things they’d found. A few books and journals, some soap and candles. But most of it had to stay. His cross was heavy enough, and Gavrael’s shoulders looked as though they couldn’t carry much.

Gavrael picked up the knitted blanket. “I’ll take this. I want to remember this place.”

“Suit yourself.” Quintus headed out the door, into the misty first light of dawn. His breath fogged in front of his face and the chill bit into his skin. Winter was fighting hard to overstay its welcome. He took one last look at the little house. He would have to remember this city once he spoke to Octavia and Celesta again. It would make a fine place for a waypoint.

Gavrael came down porch’s the steps with the blanket in his arms. Unlike Quintus, he only gave the house a cursory glance before staring up the road, his stormy eyes catching the light. “So, where are we headed?”

“To a waypoint. If we hurry, we’ll be there before dusk.” Quintus started up the road and Gavrael fell into step with him. He had to admit, travelling with anyone but Octavia and Celesta felt strange. Birds of a feather and all that. It had been a while since he’d kept company with a human, well, other than to warm his bed.

Gavrael looked at him, a quizzical look in his eyes. “What, exactly, is a waypoint?”

“It’s a place where travellers can rest without fear of being eaten by netherborne.” Quintus returned the quizzical look. “I take it you’re not very well travelled, Gav. You have soft feet.”

He shrugged.

They took a narrow alley into the city’s business district and headed east, into the sunrise. The buildings remained silent save for the occasional breeze banging an opened window. Gavrael commented that this place felt like it stood on the edge of Eternity, and Quintus couldn’t disagree. Which was why he didn’t want to stay here too long. When the nightwalkers came out at night, the rasping of their limbs against the streets and buildings night drove him to madness. His necromancy could only comfort him so much.

After an hour’s worth of walking, they made it to the city’s east exit and followed the overgrown path to the woods beyond. Even it was quiet. No chirping insects, no birdsong, nothing. Which meant the netherborne may still be hanging around this place. They always scared away the animals first.

“So,” Gavrael said, breaking the silence. “Where are we headed?”

Quintus blinked at him. “I just told you back there, we’re headed to a waypoint north of Ewell.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken. I don’t even know what a waypoint is.”

He opened his mouth, closed it again. Dear god of death, grant me patience. First Gav couldn’t remember his own name, now he couldn’t remember conversations they’d just had. “I think your memory is playing games with you again. Because I can assure you when we left the house, I told you exactly where we’re going and when we’d get there.”

Gavrael scrunched his brow. “I. I apologise. I’m… I may be losing my mind a little.”

“I've heard stories of people who've come so close to death that they briefly stepped into Eternity,” Quintus said ruefully. “Perhaps you crossed there to the other side for a moment and left your memories behind”

“Other side,” he repeated, his face going a little pale. “What if that part of me never comes back? What happens if I never remember myself?”

“Oh, you will.” Quintus mustered a smile for him. “That part of you doesn’t belong in eternity. It will find its way back. And it will find you.”