We were a mess. We were bruised, battered, humbled, and feeling justifiably sorry for ourselves. I’d love to say, ‘but we weren’t broken’, but we felt so close to it that I wasn’t about to tempt fate.

Alicia’s recovery was quick but messy. When I say recovery, I mean only so far as she was no longer in mortal danger. It would take a good while before she felt like anything other than soup poured into a human-shaped mould.

After a tense hour, Alicia regained enough movement that she was no longer in danger of choking on her own tongue. About half an hour after that, she managed, with assistance, to tuck an arm under her head. This might have been the hardest moment for me; I could see her body craved the release of a shout, a swear, a good sob, but her muscles just wouldn’t commit.

Not long after that, dawn broke. It was one of those muted grey affairs, that makes you wonder why the sun even bothered. Still, it was a relief. I hadn’t realised how stressed I’d been about another attack until the light came. I felt it now in my shoulders and lower back, I’d been tensing at every rustle of leaves or creak of a bough.

Oh, yeah, important detail: the voices stopped. They didn’t stop all at once, or else I would have noticed. I must have just heard fewer and fewer over the course of the long pre-dawn morning, until finally there was no one left to talk to me. For a mad moment, I thought that the copse had been abandoned, but a quick rummage in the undergrowth revealed that there was still plenty of nature left in every square inch of nature.

I’m not sure why the voices stopped. I have no idea why they started to begin with, so I guess it’s no surprise I didn’t know why they upped and vanished. You’d think I’d be relieved, but mostly I was just scared they would start again. All I had really learnt about my power was that I couldn’t control it.

I thought about this while I was fishing around for firewood. With the day well and truly underway, Mirra had sent me off for fuel to coax the fire back with. She had grand plans for a hearty breakfast, she said, but really I think she saw I needed some alone time. At any rate, she certainly didn’t complain when I walked well beyond the clearing to gather logs identical to those strewn around our camp.

I had another reason for shopping further afield for our firewood, and that was the sagar tree. I couldn’t bring myself to touch any of its branches. Not even the wispy twigs that decked the ground beneath its feet. It just felt wrong. There’s a lot to relay about how I felt about towards the now totally inert tree, and I’m going to go right ahead and do a poor job of conveying it.

On the one hand the tree felt like a guardian to me. It was a protector, a nurturer, a carer. It hung in the balance between a parent and a god — don’t tell the Anvil I said that —at least in the sense that it felt sacrosanct enough that the thought of burning even a slither of it pained me.

On the other hand, it was almost like a lover. I felt stupid for thinking it, but it was the best comparison I could find. We had been within one another, intwined with one another, totally connected. It was intense and exciting, but there was also a far darker tinge to it. The way we had been estranged one moment and as one the next felt invasive, even violating. I feared our union as much as I was intrigued by it.

Stolen story; please report.

At any rate, I know an abusive relationship when I see one. I left the tree well alone.

Mirra had Alicia sitting up by the time I got back, but her colour hadn’t returned yet. The promised feast was downgraded to barley porridge after talk of more enticing suggestions turned Alicia’s stomach. I don’t think anyone was disappointed; I certainly didn’t have an appetite.

The rest of the morning was spent helping Alicia regain her composure. I won’t stoop to relating the details, but when a person has been poisoned there’s a lot of bad stuff that needs to come out, one way or another. With her limbs still uncooperative, she needed a lot of help. This might sound disgusting, but there’s a mode you go into when a loved one needs you, and you honestly just get one with it. All I truly felt was sorry.

“Still glad you decided to tag along?” I asked with a smirk.

“Couldn’t turn me back for the world,” Alicia said through quivering lips, bracing herself as a wave of shivers racked her body. She’d been having chills since breakfast, but luckily we knew to expect it.

“S’not so bad,” Mirra said in her tunefully flat way.

Mirra was busy turning the remains of the breakfast porridge into the base of the lunch porridge. We were travelling in style.

“Well I—”

“—Don’t,” I warned Clive, before he forced me to kick him.

The rooster grunted, and settled into his own feathers.

The sound of Mirra’s ladle clattering against the base of the pot was a metronome, reminding me just how slowly time was passing.

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, fine. What were you going to say?”

Clive bowed his head. “My feet hurt.”

And for whatever reason, that made Alicia laugh. It was a snotty, phlegmy little laugh, but I swear by the Anvil I have never heard a sweeter sound in all my life. Just like that, it felt like everything might be okay again. It was tough now, but there would be laughter at the end. Things would get better.

“What’s’at dopey smile for?” Alicia teased.

“Just grateful for you, is all. All of you,” I said to Mirra. “Especially you,” I said to Hinny, and was rewarded with another one of Alicia’s beautifully messy laughs.

Alicia was able to walk by the afternoon, but we weren’t about to put her through that ordeal without some proper rest. Besides, we were all exhausted by this point. It’s not exactly like we got much sleep. The thought of staying in that same defiled little clearing was too much for any of us to bear, though, so what we did do was put Alicia atop Hinny and wander a short way down the road.

It was hard on Alicia, which I regret, but selfishly it felt nice to walk a little ways with no real goal in mind and no real pressure. We didn’t want to tax A.A. too much, but we did afford ourselves the luxury of wandering beyond a couple of mediocre spots until we found one with nice loamy earth and soft rolls of matted grass.

We set up our camp without urgency, and teased Mirra about the porridge that would no doubt be revived for dinner. She must have taken the challenge seriously, because when the porridge remerged it was dressed up with tangy medicinal herbs, segments of fluffy potato, and a glossy sheen of butter. Mine had some shavings of dried beef stirred in, but we kept that quiet from Alicia — she would be off red meat for a while.

The night was festive and relaxed. We were no doubt drunk on the elation of our survival, but we rode that wave unapologetically. I like to think we deserved a little happiness.

The laid-back pace, good spirits, decent rest, and fancy porridges, continued from then on. Until, before we knew it, we were arriving in Magalat.