They didn’t move very fast, the caravan. While it had kept a brisk and bruising pace from the city to the refugee settlement, now that they’d passed the first clearing, the afternoon provided a gentler pace. People had time to chat and to laugh. The military discipline of the morning seemed to give way to something less formal, as if they were all off on a picnic. The only person who wasn’t included in this more relaxed atmosphere was Samuel. If anything the more languorous pace only served to stoke his anxieties.

“How much further?” he sighed. He’d been unwilling to ask before now, making it a badge of honour in fact not to ask, but now he needed to know. Whatever, wherever this caravan was headed, Samuel viewed the destination with growing suspicion. While they were on the road it felt as though he was still somehow connected to the city, as if he could spring back there at any moment, as though the city and he were still connected by some invisible elastic band. Once they reached the true stopping point though, would that elastic be cut he wondered?

“Hmm, maybe this evening perhaps.” Markus offered uncertainly over his shoulder.

“You don’t know?” Samuel challenged, suddenly wary of this older soldier’s competency. Up till now he had assumed that Markus knew everything. Surely he would know how long it took to get home.

“We’re not quite going the way we’d normally go is all; and we’re not going at the speed we’d normally go at either. Don’t know what it means, but, it’s making things a bit unpredictable.”

“Oh!” said Samuel a bit abashed by the explanation. “Is there more than one way to go then? I haven’t seen any other roads.”

Markus actually looked over his shoulder at that and offered Samuel a good natured eye-roll. “We’ve passed eight turnings so far, and we forked off unexpectedly a few kilometres back. You just haven’t realised because you’re used to tower blocks and not tall trees. You can’t pick out the paths yet. But you will one day.” 

The explanation, while well meant, made Samuel flush, but he also didn’t like the idea that he’d be around long enough to learn.

Lifting his arm, Markus pointed up through the tree tops a bit to the right. “You can only see once in a while, when the canopy thins, but just over there,” he began waggling his pointing finger back and forth, “just over there are the peaks of two of the Sisters. The Nicer Sisters we call them. The rest of the Mountain Range you’d be lucky to navigate but right there you’ve got a wide open valley. The Sisters’ Garden. Aersk’s there, the prince’s stronghold, and the Hearth-Hall, at the base of the mountains. Normally we’d be heading straight for them, but we’ve turned off east and I don’t know why.”

Samuel strained his eyes, trying to see past the damp greenery of the canopy, trying to spot these two sisters. He supposed he saw them at times, but it might just have been a passing shadow or a cloud over the sun. 

As the day wore on and bled into early evening the high spirits of the party turned into something of a trudge. Everyone knew that they were close to home, but it seemed the princes weren’t prepared to take them there. People muttered and began casting dim looks at Samuel. He pulled his cloak firmer around himself, against the chill that seemed to be coming his way.

Finally the company broke out of the narrow tree-lined path into something resembling a broad avenue. This part of the forest was different. Rather than the hard dirt track or the mud, moss, and rotting leaves of the rest of the forest, here was soft grass and perfectly flat ground. While you could still smell moisture in the air, the place was dry, and the air still and warm. The avenue was walled with similar trees, instead of the hodgepodge of the rest of the forest. Samuel saw that they reached over above him, their branches entangling and intertwining with one another to form something of a graceful arched ceiling that ran for about fifty metres before running out into regular forest again. It was almost too perfect.

“This has been made!” Samuel exclaimed.

Ahead of him Markus made some sort of affirming sound. “One of the Forest Halls. Good places to shelter and camp in when hunting or on the move. The trees have been trained. Takes years to make one of these.” Markus explained, the last bit said with something like deep respect, affection, and maybe even awe, not something Samuel would have expected from a soldier talking about botany.

Ahead of them, the horn sounded out again, a different series of blasts from those given at lunchtime. Around the caravan a series of disappointed but accepting groans rattled out.

“Not home tonight then,” Markus sighed. “That’s the signal to make camp.”

Samuel wondered why they were camping here, and what setting up camp might mean. With no real idea, he simply did what he’d been doing all day, he followed Markus. The older soldier led them away to the far side of the Forest Hall. It seemed like everything had its place. The wagons to one side, the horses to another, and people moved purposefully as if they each had their own billet that they knew by heart.

The area that Markus led them to was interspersed with flat stones set into the ground. He looked around, as if judging each of the stones before heading to a particular one, and with an approving nod he swept his cloak off and laid it on the grass near to the stone, but not too close, sitting down on the cloak with a contented sigh. Indicating the spot beside himself, Markus directed Samuel to do the same. 

While Samuel sat, rubbed his tired legs and looked around, Markus relaxed back on his hands, without a care in the world. People on every side of them and all around the wooded Hall were busy, a continuing hive of activity. 

“Don’t you have to do something?” Samuel asked.

“Don’t you worry. I’m doing my job.” Markus offered enigmatically.

Samuel pondered at this, not sure what to make of it, before coming to the unsettling conclusion that he was Markus’ job. It seemed at that moment that Samuel had acquired a gaoler, someone to make sure he didn’t run off.

The early evening slipped into dusk, and as the light turned to darkness the caravan settled down. Others joined them around the stone, which Samuel came to realise was in fact a hearth for a small campfire. They brought wood and tinder, sparking a flame as the night got cooler. From another corner people came out bearing bowls of food and bread which they handed around. 

Having not eaten since lunch Samuel wolfed down his simple meal. It was plain but filling, and there was plenty of it. Markus had even taken Samuel's hunk of  black bread and helped him to toast it near to the fire. Samuel recognised the other people who had joined them at the hearth as the other guards from the wagon they’d been walking beside all day. They’d heartily approved of Markus’ choice of location, and continued to chat on and off with him all evening. Apart from the odd glance though, none of them had sought to say a word to Samuel.

The only time they’d really paid him any attention was when Markus had to get up at one point to go relieve himself. The entire time Markus was away the other six men had done nothing but stare fixedly at Samuel. Apparently they were his gaoler’s backups it seemed.

As the night wore on, they had each settled down to sleep, their cloaks wrapped around their bodies for warmth beside the small flames. Samuel had followed suit, although he couldn’t sleep. He’d never slept on the ground before, and without a pillow too. Instead he stared at the flickering flames and glowing embers, getting lost in their crackling dance, watching tiny sparks burst in the air.