Three figures were before Anthē, a man and a woman and a young girl, moving through the woods to the sound of their own instruments.

The man had a drum which hung on a chord from his neck and which he was beating with a pair of wooden sticks. The woman had a long flute at her lips which she held aloft as it rose and fell in tune with the music. Anthē did not know how she knew that the little girl who was singing as she skipped beside them was their daughter, but she did. The trio were totally absorbed in the music, but presently the woman saw her and stopped playing, which immediately made the other two stop and look to see the stranger with whom they had crossed paths.

“Hello there,” the woman said to Anthē, in a soft voice still more melodious than her flute, if that were possible. Like the man and the girl, she was wearing a long white garment made from a single piece of material, and it contrasted brilliantly with her long, golden hair. Other than that she was barefoot, with only a small pack slung across her back.

Anthē stood for a moment, enchanted. Zantheus was next to her now, hurriedly putting down Tromo. “What is your business here?” He unsheathed his shattered blade and held it to the three. It split the light seeping through the boughs into a million colours.

Anthē’s rage returned. “Oh, put it away Zantheus!” She addressed the strangers. “Please excuse him, he is stupid and rude.” Zantheus sheathed his sword again, though reluctantly, with a mixture of self-consciousness and uneasiness.

“We take no offence, and we mean no harm,” said the man, looking first to Anthē and then to Zantheus. He had a kind face, and on top of his head sat a brown cap with a feather in it, which Zantheus thought made him look daft. “I am called Conn. This is Feanna, my wife, and our daughter Ethall.” Ethall was the absolute picture of her mother except with darker hair, perhaps more beautiful still, though only time would reveal that. She was clinging to her father’s leg in apprehension at Zantheus, who spoke in turn.

“I am Zantheus, Paragon of the Aythian Order, First Champion of Awmeer. And this is my...companion...”

“I can speak for myself,” said his companion. “I am Anthē, nobody of nothing.”

“And who is this?” asked the woman, bending down to speak to Tromo, who ran round to hide behind Zantheus. He was transfixed by her, but preferred to stare from behind the safety of his six-foot tall guardian.

“That’s Tromo. He doesn’t speak,” Anthē said.

The woman stood up again. “Well, a fine family you are: A dusty knight with a broken sword, a weeping nobody of nothing, and their unspeaking son.”

To his surprise more than anyone else’s Zantheus blushed. “Oh, no... We are not a family...”

“Mummy,” said Ethall, “what’s a ‘mute’?”

“It means he can’t speak.” Anthē said, brushing the water from her cheeks.

“Oh... that’s sad...”

“I’m sure if he could he would have lovely things to say if he could,” said Feanna.

“You’re not the first person to think that…” said Anthē.

“What are you doing in the forest? Have you lost your way?” asked the man called Conn.

“Yes,” said Zantheus. “We are trying to get to Qereth, on the other side, you see. We had a guide who was leading us but he abandoned us and we became separated.”

“Oh?” said Conn. “Who’s that then?”

“His name is Leukos,” said Zantheus with a frown.

“Ah, prince Leukos Muthouios,” said Conn.

“Prince Leukos?” said Anthē, astonished. “You know Leukos?”

“Yes, we come from the same country, Larakia.”

“And he’s a prince there?”

“Yes,” said Conn. “But in our country that is not so unusual. We are a royal people—practically everyone is a prince or a princess where we come from.”

“I never would have guessed…” said Zantheus.

“Do you need someone to show you your way through the forest?” asked Feanna.

“That would be wonderful,” said Anthē, relieved.

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Zantheus was not so easily won over. He was still aghast that the newcomers had heard of Leukos before and not so ready to accept them. “Hold on, Anthē,” he said, “how do we know that we can trust these people?”

“Oh, don’t worry, you can trust us,” Feanna said unassumingly to him. “We live in this forest. We know it very well, every kind of plant and animal. We can take you as far as the border, in whichever direction you want to go.”

Zantheus was thoroughly suspicious. This was all a bit too convenient. “We have nothing to offer you in return...” he said. “No wares, no money...”

“Oh, we wouldn’t charge for our service. We will show you the way for free,” said Conn. “We are wayguides, you see. We live our life helping people make their way through this forest.”

“Why would you do that?” asked Zantheus, very rudely.

“It’s just how we’ve chosen to live our lives.”

“Is Leukos a wayguide too?” asked Anthē.

“If he is, he is not a very good one…” said Zantheus.

“I think he was at one point, but not any more,” said Feanna. “He must have his own reasons for taking you to Qereth.”

“He said that he wanted company, but I did not believe him,” said Zantheus. “I do not not believe you either.”

“Look, lost knight,” said Conn in brisk but understanding tones, “here are the facts as I am aware of them: You are lost. We are offering to help show you your way, at no cost. You may decline or accept our offer, that is up to you.”

“Then I decline,” said Zantheus obstinately.

“Zantheus, what are you doing?!” said Anthē.

“I see no reason to accept, Anthē.”

“Well, they are clearly familiar with this forest. What’s it to you if they don’t want anything in return for their help?”

“That is what our last guide said, and see what he has done to us.”

“You say he abandoned you?” asked Conn.

“Yes,” said Zantheus.

“Well we don’t know that, do we?” said Anthē. “He went too far ahead,” she explained, “and we lost sight of him.”

“You were the one accusing him of abandoning us a moment ago!” said Zantheus hotly.

“Well, maybe I’ve changed my mind. Come on Zantheus, we might as well go with these people. They don’t look that untrustworthy, do they?”

As this conversation had been unfolding, Ethall had been slowly making her way over to Tromo. Now that she was close enough, she yelled “Tig!” and whacked him on the shoulder. She then dashed away as quickly as she could, but stopped when she realised Tromo had made no effort to pursue her.

“What is she doing?” said Zantheus.

Feanna crouched down so that she was eye-level with Tromo and informed him “You’ve been ‘tigged’, sweetie. Now you have to chase Ethall and ‘tig’ her back. Then she has to tig you again. That’s how the game works.”

“Come on then!” said Ethall from her safe position a few paces away. “Mutes can still play tig, can’t they?”

Tromo looked up at Zantheus timidly. Zantheus did not know what to do, he had never been put in this position before.

Anthē put him out of his misery, and said to Tromo “Go on, you’d better tig her back, Tromo.”

Tromo took two cautious steps forward. Ethall took two steps backwards in repsonse. Then, finding his confidence, he ran for it. Ethall reacted just in time, and barely evaded his outstretched hand. The two began to play together, running in and out of the trees.

Conn resumed the conversation as Feanna stood up again. “Well, those two seem to get on,” he said, taking off his drum and putting it into the pack he carried.

“Come on, Zantheus,” said Anthē. “We might as well let these people guide us. What better choice do we have?”

Zantheus wondered why Anthē was so easily convinced by these strangers. “We can make our own way through the forest,” he said stubbornly, not fully believing what he said.

“I wouldn’t recommend trying to find your way through Choresh alone without a guide,” said Conn. “Those that try most often end up mad.”

Leukos had said that. “How do I know I you are not going to murder us while we sleep and take all our possessions?” said Zantheus.

“Zantheus!” Anthē reprimanded him, amazed at how he could be so abrupt with these clearly trustworthy people.

“Don’t worry, it’s a fair question,” said Feanna.

“We carry no weapons,” said Conn. “And I don’t think we could overpower you even if we wanted to...”

Zantheus was still reluctant. In truth, he did in fact think that these people probably were trustworthy, but he was angry at Leukos for going too far ahead of them, and for some reason he was directing his anger at these new people. He was not going to find it so easy to trust someone again in such a brief period of time.

“Tell you what,” said Feanna, when he did not say anything more, “we are going to head north-east in a direction that will take us to the edge of the forest nearest to Qereth. You are free to continue as you please, and if your journeying should take you the same way as us, so be it.”

She and her husband turned and started walking off. Anthē and Zantheus didn’t hear, but as they turned Conn whispered “Good thinking,” to her.

Then Feanna called out “Ethall, we’re moving on again!”

Ethall complained instantaneously. “But Mum! I’m playing tig!”

“Well, maybe you can carry on playing tig...” Feanna glanced to one side, where Anthē had appeared next to her, who nodded in response to her questioning look.

“Carry on, just keep close to us!” said Conn.

So the five of them started to move through the forest, the two children spinning around the adults in a wiggly orbit, sometimes cutting across them in a cunning ploy to avoid being caught by the other, laughing. Anthē had not heard Tromo’s laugh before. He sounded older when he laughed.

Eventually, Zantheus walked after them.