“Why is the river so important?” Ruskin asked halfway up an annoyingly steep hill.

“It’s the only thing that’s constant in this place,” said Bhaltair, sounding annoyingly not out-of-breath. “Trees change, rocks change, paths change, but if you follow the Dubh far enough upstream, you find Eas Dubh and if you’ve found Eas Dubh then you’ve found the seat of the elders. The trouble with the river, these days, is finding it and staying beside it.”

Taru hadn’t known any of that before this moment. She’d just figured that following the river upstream meant she was going away from where she’d started, and that was better than going back. 

She leant heavily on the ready-felled branch Bhaltair had fashioned into a walking stick. Ruskin had done his best for her ankle with what he had, but what he had was woefully little without using the weave. Taru still couldn’t put her full weight on it, but Ruskin had been sure the darkness wouldn’t spread.

“Do the Laringdenese really have stories that take days to tell?” Ruskin asked Bhaltair.

Bhaltair laughed and said, “Does the sun rise in the west? We even have some that take weeks to tell. Some of our most vaulted songs, too, last for hours. I always preferred shorter ones, myself. My ma has a fine voice but a poor pair of lungs: could never last all the way through a full epic, but can’t half charm folk on the choruses.”

“How interesting. The elves in Arkwright—”

“Elves?!”

“Ah… I’m sorry, I know that isn’t the nicest word to the Laringdenese, but—”

“Isnae the nicest, aye?”

“—but the alfar in Arkwright call themselves by that name and are fiercely proud of it, too. They were the first I ever met. You’ll have to forgive me: I’m still learning about your proud and beautiful people.”

Bhaltair paused a moment and looked back past Taru at Ruskin with an unreadable expression. Then they glanced at Taru and turned back to continue the gruelling journey. “A simple apology will do in future,” they said evenly. “Do you always prattle on like that?”

“Yes,” Ruskin answered plainly, and this time it was Taru who turned to look at him. He smiled easily back at her, though not warmly. “I’ve been told I talk too much —enough for a horde —‘til the cows come home. I’ve also been told I could talk an insomniac to sleep, make too much of my mouth and not enough of my ears, and don’t leave enough words for the rest of yous.”

“I like it,” Bhaltair muttered as Taru turned to face forward.

“What’s that? I didnae hear you.”

“I said,” Bhaltair began, louder, “that I like it. You’ve a carefree spirit. It’s something I’ve not met in a long time.”

“My grandma calls it careless.”

Bhaltair laughed.

Uneasy silence fell.

“We should stop for a bit when we get to the river,” Taru said. “My mouth feels like I decorated it with clay.”

-~*~-

They didn’t stop when they reached the river. As with the last time, the first part they found was far too dangerous to risk getting close to. To stave off Taru’s thirst, Ruskin broke her off a corner of off-white block. She took it with thanks and pocketed it when he wasn’t looking. A few hours later they found a spot to stop and drink from the dark water. While Bhaltair warned that it definitely wouldn’t be the cleanest, they all knew they didn’t have a choice.

-~*~-

Once they finally reached even ground, Taru said, “On the way into the deep forest, we met alfar who’d been changed by the darkness. The eldest? They were proper vicious, clawing at us through the light, but they couldn’t stay in it for long or else they’d start burning.”

“How awful,” Ruskin breathed.

“Aye. I was just wondering, what’s the difference between them lot and this lot? These shadows move weird, like there’s bits of their movement missing, you know? The eldest din’t move like that. At least I don’t think they did. I guess my eyes hadn’t adjusted to the light proper, back then. But it’s not just that, this lot can stand in the light, too.”

“They couldn’t further out,” Bhaltair said. “But we’re getting closer to the heart of the forest, now: to the source of their power. The weave is stronger here, too, but without anything to maintain it, it’s flimsy compared to the shadows. They’re strong enough to fight it.”

“I can’t believe your eldest succumbed to this,” Ruskin said. “What’ll you do without them?”

“Well we’re not gonna be without them, are we? That’s what this is all about.” Bhaltair cocked their head to the side. “Actually, there’s a point. Whit you doing here, anyway?”

“He came for berries.”

“Aye, for my healing poultices and potions. We’ve been running low where I’m from. There’s this illness—”

“Gods, it’s everywhere, aye? Maybe there was something to whit me da was saying about the end of days.”

“It’s rife, that’s true. We’re getting it from all sides as well. Ma says our neighbours have been pressing us for more resources. And that’s while they’re refusing to give us any more of what they got, mind you. It’s having a non-too-pleasant effect on the mayor. Ma’s had to play the role of independent third party at more than one council session, keeping the peace.”

“I’ll never understand human societies,” Bhaltair muttered.

Taru looked out into the trees. A pale shape amongst the trunks caught her eye.

“Are you right?” Ruskin asked her, and she nodded. He passed her as Bhaltair continued,

“If your neighbour needs something and you can give it, then give it. If you can’t, then don’t.”

She squinted, trying to make out the shape. It was tall. Human-esque.

“Sometimes they’ll have more,” Bhaltair continued, their voice growing farther away. “Sometimes they’ll have less. And if they’re particularly badly positioned, then maybe they’ll never have much of anything at all. But so what? That’s still a group of people you’re refusing to help, and for what? Balance? Tit for tat?”

“Fairness.”

Bhaltair scoffed.

The pale figure vanished. 

“You know what’s not fair?” Bhaltair tried. “Not giving someone something they need.”

Taru hurried after the pair as quickly as she could manage.

“As long as they pay it back once they’re back on their feet, I agree.”

“Whit ye mean, pay it back? If you don’t need it, why you hoarding it?”

“Well we might need it later.”

“Pah!” Bhaltair laughed derisively. “But they need it now. Go on with you. Anyway, I don’t know what the difference is between what’s happened to the eldest and these shadow things. From what you’ve said, Taru, it could be anything, but most likely the eldest are still the eldest, but corrupted… overtaken by their shadow selves. Meanwhile, these things we’re facing are the shadows separate from the host.”

“Maybe there is no difference,” Ruskin suggested. “It could be that they’re all the same.”

“Could be,” Bhaltair agreed. “I dunno. What do you hink, Taru?”

“I think I need loo,” she said.

Ruskin chuckled. 

Bhaltair turned to show her a raised eyebrow.

“I think it’s all just a big mess,” she confessed. She’d asked because she really had no idea, not because she had a theory she wanted to share.

“But you saw them in person,” Ruskin pressed. “Surely you’ve got some idea of what you were looking at.”

Taru shook her head and glanced away into the trees. “I thought they were monsters.”

-~*~-

The three of them trudged through oily darkness, the Dubh a constant companion except when tangles of thorny branches, sudden cliffs or thatches of close-knit trees forced them to find a new path. Thankfully, between Bhaltair’s exceptional hearing and Ruskin’s unerring sense of direction, they quickly found their way to the river on the other side, though the length of time it took them seemed to be increasing. Then again, Bhaltair did say that time moved strangely here. Taru couldn’t be sure it really was increasing. With everything else she had seen and felt, she couldn’t discount the possibility that this was another trick of the shadows.

As they went, Bhaltair and Ruskin chattered aimlessly about their homes, families and hobbies. Taru kept herself occupied trying not to think about hers. Instead, she counted her steps and, whenever she lost count, looked around the mirk for a short while to ensure she couldn’t recognise their surroundings: the last thing they needed was to walk in a big circle. 

The problem was that the deep forest seemed to be made up entirely of mist and shadows. The trees were shadows, the plants were shadows, the rocks and the ground were all shadows. Everything in between them was a dense mist that blurred everything in the distance into one big shadow. Her eyes had adjusted to the darkness to an extent, but it still very nearly overwhelmed her when she looked out into it. One thing was for sure: without the Dubh, and without Ruskin and Bhaltair to keep them by it, she would be completely and utterly lost.