The wind has picked up, Seton’s long ponytail whips in the wind. Foxyn wipes sweat from Emmett’s fever-stricken body. The cloud coverage blocking out the moonlight.

“Do you think they were caught by Misthen?”

“I think no matter the circumstances Mher would have come running down the ley line back to us,” Seton says, squinting in the darkness. “They probably just have to travel far for what they need.”

“You couldn’t go looking for them without getting lost, could you?” Foxyn asks.

“...No,” Seton resigns. Then with a hint of curiosity asks, “Could you?” Foxyn is silent. He hadn’t left Emmett’s side for hours, Seton doubts those circumstances have changed.

“Maybe… we could start a fire- away from us- and see if it draws anyone’s attention?” Foxyn suggests.

“And if it draws the wrong attention?” Seton asks critically. “You’d want me to murder a whole unit on my own?” Foxyn grimaces. Seton gives the impression that he’s going to disagree but to the contrary says, “I think that’d call for extra pay.”

Foxyn’s mouth opens in disbelief. “I’m just a soldier, I don’t have that kind of money.”

“I’m sure your sea maps used to sell pretty well. Maybe your land maps even more so.” Foxyn’s unnerved by Seton’s stone faced grin in the dim light.

The deal feels insidious, but Foxyn looks at Emmett, his decision already made, “Okay.” Seton’s gone in an instant, howling wind drowning out his steps.

Ankle deep in black water and holding the salve wrapped in a bloody rag, Ashford watches ,hair standing on end, as the glowing bear approaches Mher. They’ve relit a candle for each hand, the imbued healing energies resonating with the volatile creature. The salve has the densest soak of the energy, so they had told Ashford to cover it with the bandage with its violent energies and stand in the river with its natural flowing energy to mask it.

There’s a rapid criss crossing of ley lines in Mher’s eyes and ear flicks; their mouth’s moving, but Ashford can’t hear a word. He assumes that they’re talking to the glowing bear until their head angles in his direction. They look for acknowledgement but Ashford’s still shellshocked. ‘What’ he weakly mouths.

They lick their lips. “River! South! Bramble! West! Smoke!” The single word directions shot rapid fire agitates the glowing bear, raising its hackles. Mher backs up and Ashford’s about to shout back, disagreeing with the plan, but they yell determined, “Go!”

Roars of response forces Mher up the mossy rocks along the waterfall. Their gaze steady with the beast and steps certain; their gaze only wavers when they see Ashford unmoved.

Ashford mentally shakes himself loose and turns from Mher to follow the river‘s path. He reminds himself that Mher’s an Alderkin, a nomad, they know what they’re doing, they can handle this. He can’t be sure when he looks over his shoulder- maybe it’s only to reassure himself- but a calm has overtaken their candle-lit face as they guide the glowing bear in the opposite direction.

His warborn instincts threaten to turn around and leap on the beast’s back with his dagger, but the creature has yet to actually be violent and forces himself to trust Mher. Every step he wills himself to take the salve to Emmett, who needs him most right now.

He’s not out of sight of the candles when he realizes he can’t hear sounds from either, drowned out by the river. No roars. No screams. Would he be able to hear either and run back to help if he was needed?

The paranoid thoughts pile up until his adrenaline runs dry. The late hours weighing him down, his soggy feet barely rising above the water level. He’d chosen to walk calmly, not sure if running would make an ‘energy’ that would distract the glowing bear from Mher’s candles.

His numb feet carry him to a patch of bramble that lies over the river stopping him in his path. Energy waning, Ashford gazes at the western sky, and he blinks several times. In the distance, wisps of smoke are being carried by the wind. Despite the urgency, Ashford doubts Mher would lead him toward danger without warning. However a fire with smoke spreading this far would attract the wrong attention eventually. With a renewed skip in his step, he blindly trips through the forest after the smoke’s source.

He crawls up hills and rolls his ankles in invisible divots until he reaches the source, a trio of fires spaced a stones throw apart. He stays out of the light, searching for an explanation. He theorized that Foxyn may have started a fire if Emmett’s condition was worsening either to help him or alert Ashford. Now he suspects charlie-

“Ashford.” He jumps out of his skin and whips around.

“You scared-! Why’d you sneak up on me?!” Ashford tries to control his volume, but the lack of sleep has him on edge.

“Didn’t want to completely waste my time. Where’s Mher?” Seton asks as if he gave an explanation.

“We got split up. I’ll explain it while I treat Emmett.” Ashford realizes he’d been clutching the salve tightly to his chest and relaxes his hands.

“Alright,” Seton’s response is concise; he douses the flames and leads Ashford back.

Once again his expectations are betrayed. They approach without a word. Foxyn sleeps with his forehead pressed into Emmett’s shoulder; Emmett greets them with a weary nod. Ashford’s fingers are unpleasantly chilling as they peel back the bandages around his eye. It’s revealed to be swollen and encrusted with puss; Ashford’s reluctant to touch it, but tries not to show it. Emmett can feel a film over the eye and can’t see clearly from it. Ashford wipes the area clean then applies the medicine. He places a patch infused with healing herbs then rewraps the eye. Ashford instructs Emmett to chew on a gummy substance they’d made like Mher told him to.

Through this process, Foxyn eventually wakes with a start, ashamed to have fallen asleep, and Ashford gives an explanation of what happened at the waterfall.

After Ashford had left, Mher had followed the ley line up the waterfall flush with moss to a large spring welling up with healing energy. The area is thick with spindly trees with their branches entangled, so that Mher can’t escape through them. The wolfbear breaks branches as he pushes through the small space. Mher has to hold the candles close to themself so as to not let a leaf accidentally catch fire. They lodge the still-lit candles into the rocks at the spring’s edge avoiding flora and hoping the wolfbear won’t knock them over. They take a few strands of lavender they’d previously collected and crush them, wiping the pungent slime on the rocks near the candles. They carefully move away and dip their hand in the spring to dilute the smell on their hand. The wolfbear takes deep inhales of the lavender and rubs his face on it and the rocks by the candle. Their way in is blocked by the wolfbear, Mher takes the path they had scouted out. They remove their bag, cloak, and anything else that dangles off of them and holds it above their head. They wade into the deceptively deep spring, the water coming up to their hips before gently flowing in a tight stream that rises up to their chest. The branches over their head hang low enough to occasionally snag on their bundle but are not difficult to detach from. They move forward with careful footing, their eyes slowly adjusting to the lack of light. They’re almost afforded a sense of peace, a return to their normal life.

They search the ley line for Ashford following the route they set out for him and sees he’s close to reaching Seton. They’re on the outskirts of the ley line, but Mher watches their reunitement and lets themself chuckle. Seton puts out the fires, presuming Mher doesn’t need them, and the two walk out of Mher’s sight. It would take some time, but Mher knows they can get back to them without issue; the line ahead is clear- they’d be able to take a shortcut- and the wolfbear is distracted. They’re sopping wet clothes weigh them down, but they’ve travelled in more difficult conditions. They reminisce over unfortunate though trivial experiences alleviating some stress, trying to encourage themself that they can power through this too. The unit doesn’t even expect them to fight; they know not all Alderkin were so lucky. They had kept them safe… they want to make it up to them.

They can hear the waterfall nearing and the current growing rougher. They manage to find a spot they can force their body through and leave the water caked in mud and moss. THey emerge from the maze of branches at the tops of the falls and are met with a harsh wind. They take extra care descending, their whole body too slippery to be willing to take the chance. They climb down without incident and slip their cloak back on to fight off the biting wind.

Checking on the wolfbear, he has decided to rest where they left him, so Mher decides it’s okay to jog the rest of the way back. They pass the extinguished fires, the smell of smoke still present. They reach the edge of the ley line and switch to a walk, cautious of alerting enemies or scaring the unit.

Their clothes are still very damp, and their skin crawls with goosebumps with every gust. They stand in the spot where the group had split up that afternoon, but they’ve left no trace. They consider backtracking to search for them on the ley line, but they had not seen any movements in that direction. They conclude that the unit did not head east, they doubt they’d move south, which leaves too broad a scope for them to search without a ley line. North, an uphill journey or west, away from the ley line. The charm and salve are not nearly strong enough for them to track. All they have to go off of are the unit’s logic and Mher’s own instincts.