***

Dhanur corked and uncorked her drink skin, eyes darting back and forth in the dark of night. She tensed her grip on her bow. Her leather gloves squeaked against it and tore at the silence of the night. She had forgotten how oppressive the darkness could be. From the Inside of the city it was difficult enough to get a proper view over the walls during the day, especially if one wasn’t at the Keep or on a second-floor roof in the higher sections of the city. At night it was even worse as she struggled to see anything except the trees closest to the fires. 

The path still followed the canyon which had curved and straightened again, barely beginning to slope down the gradual decline of the plateau. The neighboring forest faded to a barren plain before the path snaked into another pocket of trees.

Daylight didn’t suit the Outside, a fact Dhanur could appreciate once again as she trudged down the path one step at a time. She was reminded of how wrong in their natural brown was during the day. Daksin hadn’t recovered from the fires but the trees weren’t too far from their original look, Dhanur remembered that clearly. But when the sun set and the moon rose, the pitch black was much more apt. The shadows that hid from the Light during the day spread across the ground and into their proper place. 

The night was almost blinding. However, most general landmarks had some kind of intangible outline. Even their path forward was relatively well lit, though after a few cart lengths the shadows grew thicker until it was only possible to make out the silhouettes of trees, pocket forests, and cliff sides among the vast open plains and hills of the plateau. The images dangled at the edge of sight and even blinking could render one lost. But it was enough for Dhanur to orient herself.

“Dark, how’d I forget that?” Dhanur whispered to no one.

“Hm, yes, what?” Janurana responded almost too quickly, sitting on Dekha’s bags and kicking her feet.

“‘Bout things still staying lit. Ya know, the road and stuff.”

“Well, it’s not as bright as before,” Janurana remarked. “I take it you haven’t been Outside in quite a time.”

“Nah. I uh, not much reason to.” Dhanur took a large gulp of her drink for liquid courage. She looked down at Dekha, who continued to stare unblinkingly forward. 

Janurana nervously squeezed her parasol, allowing its tactile courage to slide through her. She kept it open still. 

Back when the sun had begun to set, Dhanur noticed her companion didn’t put it away. She only rolled her eyes and didn’t pry, but still took note. 

‘Let a crazed man fight his imaginary monsters, lest he think you’re one,’ Dhanur had thought to herself.

“Sounds quiet here,” Dhanur said, bringing Dekha to a halt. She led them off the path to a small thicket of trees and taller shrubs. “Kinda really quiet. We should stop.”

“No!” Janurana screamed. She and Dhanur flinched as her voice echoed through the night. “Uh, uhm, please? A bit further?”

Dhanur grumbled, taking another gulp of her drink. “We should have stopped at sundown and you didn’t wanna stop then.”

But Janurana had already hoped off Dekha and was further down the path. 

Dhanur said the same line to herself and let Janurana continue forward. She had to yank Dekha into a jog to catch up, flinching again as his trotting hooves echoed. There wasn’t even a toad or bug calling, nor did Dhanur feel a passing breeze. But Dekha didn’t appear worried.

The silence of the night weighed on Janurana much more. She moved at an almost supernatural glide, but her sari was large enough to hide if she was speed walking or running. Dhanur had to jog to catch up a few times. 

Janurana couldn’t quite feel the same twitch in her back she had felt outside the gate. But she would not wait and see. Night was her time. Although it was when the creatures of the night were fastest, the same was true for gwomoni as they didn’t need to hide from the sun. She wouldn’t need to stop, but Dhanur would. Her companion was a warrior who had handled many a vicious creature, but she was only human and would need to sleep eventually.

Dhanur brought Dekha to a halt once and for all. “Aight. This is… Fine.” Fatigue made the alcohol hit her in force as her words slurred. She had already finished her drink bag.

“But, Mada—'' Janurana began before Dhanur’s grumbling silenced her.

“Gotta, get it goin’ ‘fore uh… Sleep.” She braced herself on a tree, feeling for branches dry enough to fall off.

Janurana’s eyes circled as she stood perfectly still, unmoving in the Outside. She had no trouble adapting to the night’s fluctuations in brightness and nothing stirred in the blackened depths. There was no scent on the air either. Nothing.

She nearly sprinted to Dekha, grabbing the ax from his bags, and forced herself to swap her parasol for it despite the parasol’s comforting, familiar touch. She twirled the weapon in her hands, her lips tightening with her tool’s aura of power. She looked to Dekha who stood perfectly still with no stimuli. 

“If the animals are calm then there’s no danger,” Janurana whispered to herself. 

But unlike Dekha, the other animals were silent like they were hiding.

Nothing came for them.

There was only the silence.

Until Dhanur broke a branch from the tree with considerable drunken might. It flaked apart at the base, dry enough for use. Janurana curled her brow in contempt.

“Sorry. C’mon.” Dhanur motioned for her to follow, firewood tucked under her arm, she made for a clearing further off the road. “Late enough for a fire anyways.”

But Janurana’s breathing hitched and she stayed put. Her brow curled deeper inwards as her blood ran cold. 

‘Making a camp would be not moving, Outside,’ she thought. 

Dhanur was moving further away but had forgotten Dekha. Janurana seized the rope around his neck with crushing force. As she took the first running step forward, she nearly ripped it clean through him. 

‘Moving. Reach the other set of eyes. Safer that way.’

Janurana shot past the trees, following Dhanur’s scent; earthy, like the spiced oil next to her tub of cinnamon and cloves.

‘Moving. Could move faster without Dhanur.’ Janurana slowed then sped back up. ‘Shouldn't. Dhanur helped me. Can’t leave this poor animal… Could I?’

A spark flashed in the darkness, revealing a quick image of Dhanur squatting before a pile of dry grass and twigs. Her eyes were nearly closed, regardless of the rhythmic scrape, scrape, scrape of her pyrite. She was seconds from sleeping, if she wasn’t already.

One last rake against the flint set the kindling alight and the clearing came into full relief. The trees ringing it settled into their daytime brown rather than the more fitting dark, as if deciding which form to take. Silhouettes in the distance solidified, no longer writhing mysteriously in the blackness. 

Janurana came to a halt as the light exploded from Dhanur’s fire and cleared the night. As her companion blew softly on the small flame, the circle of light on the ground grew steadily. It licked at the toe of Janurana’s boots and she took a tentative step forward. She pressed her fingertips into the radiance, checking if she could cross the threshold.

“C’mon.” Dhanur beckoned lazily with a wave. “Oh! Dark! Right.” She slapped her forehead, groaning. “Yeah. Dekha.”

Dhanur stumbled forward, but still tenderly took Dekha’s rope from Janurana’s hands.

“Sorry,” she said to him softly, then gave him a gentle tug to pull him along. His nose pressed against the threshold of the fire’s light and his rope went taught. “C’mon. It’s okay.”

He passed through with the invitation, though not without some force.

“Why do you need that every time I summon you, huh?” Dhanur led him to the fire’s edge.

A dull pain twinged at Janurana’s toes, but she pressed through the threshold having been given permission to enter the last fire Dhanur made. Her fingers were still white knuckled against her ax.

They both sat before the fire, Dekha between them, and Dhanur inspected the coals. They were a solid enough base so she threw on the first couple larger branches. But her fatigue from not having traveled for two years since the war ended, quick drinking, and not having eaten to balance it out caught up with her. Her stomach wailed every time she even twitched a muscle. So she let her eyes slowly close. 

Janurana looked at her companion more closely, looking over the lithe sheen of sweat on Dhanur’s forehead, her eyebrows furrowing even as she nodded off. She didn't know if Dhanur’s fatigue was just that or stress from all she had done for Janurana but she had noticed Dhanur wince every time she moved. Biting her lip guiltily, Janurana gripped her ax as though it were her parasol and glanced at Dekha, then got caught in his brilliant topaz eyes, glimmering with the firelight.

Janurana scooted around to take a seat opposite Dhanur, hoping her companion could watch behind her, but wrung her hands on her ax as Dhanur had fallen asleep.

She returned to Dekha, reaching for his snout to comfort him, and herself, but she retracted the delicate tips of her fingers. The bits of skin she removed blew away with the fire’s smoke and circled back down to him. She scooted opposite Dekha, so his eyes were unblinkingly staring behind her. 

Still, the silence somehow grew heavier on her.

She curled in on herself, tensing and untensing her grip on the ax so cozily nestled on her lap. Each passing second found her wanting to replace it for her parasol’s familiar texture, but she couldn’t bring herself to scoot back over to Dekha and have her back unwatched.

Janurana’s only solace was the crackle of the burning sticks. It was the first night in quite a while she had spent around a fire. Its gentle and healthy ambiance, the warmth on the backs of her hands, the crackling of the wood succumbing to the flame, the star-like embers traveling up through the smoke, the scent of both the wood and smoke, it almost impacted her. However, the constant absence of pressure in her back kept her on edge. It was quiet, but she felt nothing. 

‘But an enemy you can see is far less dangerous than one who has yet to turn on you,’ one of the rules her mother had rattled through her. Janurana shot the image of her mother from her mind as quickly as she could.

Janurana’s gaze fell on Dhanur, then she rolled her eyes, smiling softly as Dhanur had already laid out on her back asleep. She snored gently, a hard juxtaposition to her loud and angry arguments with her armor after nights at the inn. But she snorted awake instinctively, tended the fire, and flopped backwards, asleep.

Dhanur had no trouble, but Janurana couldn’t bring herself to close her eyes at all, and not just because it was night. Her two feedings in the city were more than enough to keep her alert for the night and probably the following few days too. Her gaze felt dry when she tried to blink after what felt like hours. As the fire weakened, and Dhanur snored, she stood up to put another branch in the flames.

The night had grown long, the wind picking up ever so gently. Blades of grass in the clearing wriggled with the breeze as did the few leaves still hanging stubbornly from the trees. 

It made Janurana freeze before she got back to her spot. 

Her back seized up, as if her spine were being ripped out.