The Vale of Ghosts was eerily quiet during the day. During the night, it became outright otherworldly. Most nights Fawkes lit a small fire in the mouth of one of the barrows near the Halls of the Cor Ancestors. She did so more for the company of the crackling twigs than anything else. The cold and damp stone sapped what little warmth the fire had to offer, and its meager light made seeing through the swirling mists even harder.

That night, Fawkes didn’t bother with it. Somewhere above the mists, the night sky was clear and the moon was almost full. There was enough ambient light for her to pack the last of her gear and get on the road.

Hunter’s ravens were perched somewhere outside. Fawkes couldn’t see or hear them - not even them dared to break the haunting silence - but she bet they hadn’t veered too far. They rarely did.

Fyodor was curled by her feet, the warmth radiated by his big furry body her only solace. He wasn’t asleep either. He looked at her with big, pleading eyes, as if knowing what she was about to do.

“Oh, don’t give me that look,” she whispered, trying to sound dismissive. “You’ll be fine. You’ll all be fine.”

Would they, though?

Hunter should be the least of her worries. He was a Transient; he couldn’t properly die in this world anymore than he could properly live in it. Still, the memory of him charging the abomination that had claimed Reiner’s life, the very flesh boiling and melting from his bones… It made her stomach sink.

He would be better off on his own, she’d convinced herself. He’d been spending his days in an old cabin in the Weald when she’d first found him, alone save for the company of his familiars. He could go back to doing just that. If anything, the Vale was safer than the Weald, and this time he also had the mutt to keep him company. They’d be just fine.

As for Fawkes herself…

She desired nothing but a deep, restful sleep. One that would last an age and more. For the last dozen years or so, Reiner had been her one true companion, her one true connection to the rest of the world. With him gone, she felt what she always knew she was.

Out of place.

Out of time, even.

She was not Fawkes the woman. Not Fawkes the mother or sister or daughter or wife. Not Fawkes the friend. She was Fawkes of the Lodge. Fawkes the drifter, Fawkes the stranger, Fawkes the vagrant, Fawkes the blade for hire. That thought hadn’t bothered her in years, she thought to herself, if it ever had before that.

The Lodge had been her pride and legacy and burden. She’d inherited it from her master. She’d made it her identity. She was Fawkes of the Lodge. Now that she had nobody to share it with, however, it all rang… hollow. Meaningless. Men and women of the Lodge were few and far between these days. Her breed was a dying one.

She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know what to think. All she knew was that she wanted to bury it all, be on the road by herself, alone with her pain and her thoughts. As long as Hunter was around, clueless, careless, impulsive Hunter, she’d never manage to get her head on straight. That’s why she had to leave in the middle of the night like a thief. Goodbyes had never been her strong suit, anyway.

“This is it, then,” she said to Fyodor, not bothering to keep her voice down. She patted the direwolf’s head and got up on her feet before he could snuggle closer to her. “Be good, yes?”

She felt the hair at the back of her neck stand on end a breath or two before the smell hit her - the smell of camphor and lightning. She heard the air pop as Hunter materialized near the entrance to the Halls, no more than a hundred paces away from her shelter for the night. She heard feathers flutter as the two ravens took flight to meet their returning master. The direwolf heard it all too. He jumped to his feet and ran outside in the night air, bushy tail wagging like a russet flag.

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“Fawkes?” Hunter called a few breaths later, not bothering to keep his voice down. She had to suppress the urge not to answer. The mutt and the ravens would betray her presence anyway.

“In here,” she called back.

He walked through the mouth of the barrow half a minute later, ravens perched on his shoulders. Fyodor followed, tongue lolling, looking at him with adoration. Silly mutt. He really loved the lad.

“How are you doing?” Hunter asked her in a soft voice. The hazy moonlight wasn’t bright enough for her to make out his face, but she didn’t have to. His manner spoke volumes.

“Fine,” she shrugged the question off. “I didn’t expect you before morning. Is everything alright?”

“I just wanted to talk.”

Of course you did, she thought. Did he suspect she was about to take off without saying goodbye? Did his ravens alert him? Could they even do that?

“Alright,” she said, a bit sheepishly. “Come in.”

They sat down on the cold stone floor. There wasn’t enough light for them to see each other’s face, but Fawkes preferred it that way. Hunter didn’t make a move to light a torch either, so that was just as well. Fyodor plopped between them, eager to be close to them both. She was glad he did. He found the mutt’s presence soothing.

“So, umm,” Hunter started, clearing his throat. “I’ve been doing some thinking. I’ll just go on and share some of it, alright?”

Fawkes gave him a small nod. She wasn’t certain whether he saw it, but he went on anyway.

“Look, you've been shutting me out. I get it. I can’t even begin to imagine the pain you must be in right now, so I won’t bother pretending. I’ll just speak for myself.” He paused, took a deep breath, scratched the mutt behind his ears. “Fawkes, I… we haven’t known each other long, I get it. And I get it might sound silly to you, but to me it feels like you’re one of the closest friends I’ve ever had. Nobody ever had my back like you do.”

Fawkes opened her mouth to say something, then she shut it again and let the lad continue. It wasn’t easy for him to share those thoughts of his, that was obvious. Grimnir’s beard, it wasn't easy for her to listen to them.

“On my side of things,” he went on, “I never had the chance to do much. It’s a different kind of world over there. We have comforts, yes, but at the same time we kind of have fewer freedoms. I… My folks never had much. Most of the time, we barely made rent. When I took off on my own, nothing changed. All I’ve ever known is keeping my head low and looking for ways to make the next month’s rent. Hell, that’s how I ended up in prison. I had the audacity to want a nice meal after a shitty day.”

“Sorry to hear that,” Fawkes said, trying to show some empathy. She was sorry to hear it, but she didn’t get how she could be of assistance with any of that. The kind of life she led wasn’t any easier or more pleasant. If it was, there would be fewer potato-digging peasants in the world, and more folk of the Lodge.

“I’m not complaining,” Hunter explained. “It’s just the way things are. Thing is, now I have the chance to do things differently. Learn a bolder mindset. Fuck around, as they say, and find out. See my time here as an adventure. And I couldn’t think of anyone I’d rather have on my side than you.”

For a few moments, nothing broke the silence other than Fyodor’s deep, slow breathing.

“And what is it that you ask of me?” Fawkes finally said. “What is it that you want to do?”

“Anything, really. Whatever you want. Just let me tag along. Show me how to do things better. Have my back and let me have yours.” He paused for a moment. “Let me be your friend, dammit.”

“And how would that work? Will you stick around for half the day, then vanish to spend the other half in your world?”

“It’s more or less worked out so far, hasn’t it?”

“Less being the operative word.”

Hunter opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off.

“You want to go off sticking your nose in places it doesn’t belong - that’s what you want to do. But I’m too old to babysit you so that you don’t get what’s coming to you, lad.”

“You won’t have to! What’s the worst thing that can happen? I can’t even die properly. I pop right back, remember?”

“And we’ve both seen how well that’s worked out for you, fool. You almost fried your brain like an egg.”

“I’ll be more careful. You’ll teach me how.”

“As if you’d listen.”

“I will!”

Fawkes shook her head and sighed.

“And for how long would you say that would last? How much time do you have on this side of things? A few months?”

That gave him pause.

“A few months, yes,” he finally said. “That’s all I ask for.”

Fawkes felt her stomach clench. Her gut told her to say no, to get up on her feet right then and there and vanish into the night fog, just as she’d planned. She’d rather be on her lonesome than set herself up for more pain and loss down the line. She simply did not have the stomach for it.

And yet…

“There’s this saying the áeld have about befriending humans,” Fawkes said. “Something about making friends with mayflies. Go back to your side of things, Hunter. Get some rest. Come morning, we head out for the Brennai village.”

“And after that?” he asked.

“After that, we’ll see. I’ll give it some thought. That’s all I can promise.”

His smile was wide enough for her to see even in the halflight.

“That’s all I ask.”