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The shuffle in the brush and sharpness of shadows had forced the Ember Sword to sleep during the day, and carry a lamp in the nighttime as he went ahead. The light of the fire had kept the Bauk away, but still, its pungent odor drifted from somewhere in the dark. It had caught up to the Ember Sword and only bided its time until it could strike at his back.

He considered baiting it closer and getting in the first hit, but that was hardly productive as no mortal wound could kill a Bauk. Cripple it, sure, but it would only set it back by a couple of days until it picked up his scent again. And, he was not guaranteed - or even likely - to survive this encounter, not on his own, nor in the night.

The wind was colder when the moon was out. Temperatures dropped so much that his eyelashes became covered in thin beads of frost. The air sucked the warmth from him much faster, cutting through his clothing as if the fur-lined leather had been silk.

A crack of ice under the cover of snow sounded behind him. Unconsciously, he tensed, and his muscles ached where the cold stiffened them. He swung the lamp around, but its light only spilled across the footsteps in the snow behind him.

Abruptly, a deep, thunderous growl rose so close nearby that the Ember Sword felt its force disturb the air currents around him.

He turned again, swinging the lantern in its direction. Maybe ten feet away, a shape two times taller than a horse and three times as wide, staggered slowly forward. A ripple of fat and muscle flowed across its thick, rough coat with every step. Its legs were thick and short, and falling through the deep snow did not slow the beast. Its oily fur was matted but reflected no light as if it had consumed it whole.

It roared again, its voice nothing like a living animal. It sounded like it came from deep inside its chest and echoed back down before being released to spoil the night. And when it did, long, thick yellow teeth with signs of rot around the gums showed whole.

The Bauk.

The lone man stood, his feet set apart, pack thrown on the ground and sword drawn in one hand, the lantern held high in the other. He was a man of decent size, but next to the beast, he looked like a small child. There was no use running; there was no use doing anything else. The lantern, while lit, would keep the shadow bear from striking, as it could not stand the light.

But, the oil had already been low. He had two hours at most, and it was longer than that to sunrise.

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As the last time, each tree looked different - yet the same.

At first, Val held off calling Bandureek, worried that Ivan would not understand the Nothing-touched guide.

They trudged ahead, their steps sinking into the damp, mossy ground. The further they got from the Glade, the wetter it had been. The more frigid the chill hanging above their footsteps.

The first day it had gone like this.

The second, too.

Thanks to the cloth, they’d had plentiful food, but their hands and feet began to numb in the cold. Neither had been used to it anymore.

Soon, snow began to appear, although it did not stick. Upon seeing that, Val began to look for an oak. She had no choice - they were lost, and she needed the Bandureek.

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Ivan watched curiously as the Witch searched around feverishly as they walked, her head jerking back and forth. Finally, she found a large oak tree, approaching it hurriedly and running her hands on the bark.

She first ran around it one way, then the other. When nothing happened, she frowned and tried it again.

What a peculiar creature she was, Ivan thought.

One would think that out there, she would appear more human to him - after all, allegedly, she had not been his captor, and she had a mother just like him. He even saw her cry, he thought—at least sniffle. But, having spent three days in the woods, she did not get any less strange and terrifying - if anything, she had become like an animal on unfamiliar ground.

“Is there something I can do?” He asked carefully as she kicked the tree and groaned in frustration.

“No!” She snapped at him.

A look of worry crossed her face as she looked back at the tree. She waited. And so, he waited as well.

Ivan began trusting that whatever she was doing would help them in one way or another. Throughout everything, the Witch may have been strange, but she had not been overly malicious so far.

So far.

After a few minutes, she tried again.

And again, nothing happened.

Defeated, she stepped away from the tree and grimly picked up her pack again.

Ivan led the way forward this time, and the Witch moped behind.

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Snow began to blanket the trees above, and to Ivan’s surprise, when they stopped for the night, the Witch began to build a fire.

“Wait!” He stopped her. She looked at him as if he had been an annoying child bothering her for the hundredth time that day. “Not under the trees.”

“And why not?”

She truly was out of her element outside the Glade, he thought.

Ivan pointed up at the branches.

“There is half a foot of snow up there. The branches are too low.” He explained, and she looked at him as if he was completely dense. “If we light a fire here, the heat will melt the bottom layers, and it will crumble. If it falls, it can kill a man. It is heavier than it seems.”

Her face relaxed, and she looked up with uncertainty.

“What do we do for warmth?” She asked absentmindedly as if to herself.

More of him than not wanted to suggest that she curl up to him to keep warm, but this was a highly unrealistic thought. Not only because she would never agree, but also because he would not get a single minute of sleep with how uneasy and petrified she’d made him. The very thought had immediately deeply reddened his face.

“Blankets?” He croaked, swallowing his thoughts.

Again, she looked at him as a dunce.

“Creative.”

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Val's heart truly fell when the Bandureek did not show after several attempts. She had no other ideas, and their chances had dwindled further and further. She could not help but think that maybe the Nothing-touched was not interested in a game with someone like her after everything. Maybe he no longer thought he had anything to gain…

“Gods…” She whispered, shivering from the cold and looking at the trees they passed.

The Deep Wood was vast. Crossing it in some parts could take multiple weeks. Or days? It was impossible to tell with the forest’s whims.

She looked to Ivan, who so cheerfully walked ahead of her. Was he so naive to what lived out here? Would something grab him in the night, and all these months that she had fought to keep him safe would be for nothing?

All she wanted was to come out of the woods with him and be on their respective ways. She was tired of being responsible for someone she hardly knew. But, many years ago, someone else had chosen to keep her safe when he had also hardly known her. She would not be here now if he had not.

A life for a life.

On the fifth day, the ground was frozen, and the snow was deep, even among the trees.

Their pace slowed greatly because, at every step, the hidden roots tangled and tripped them. The slippery ground sent each foot sliding to the side.

It had been easier for Ivan with his long legs, and he often had to help her through the brush. He had not complained once and always offered her his hand, even if she refused to take it.

Val fretted, and during the nights, she stayed up with a candle, listing through the pages, trying to find anything that would get them through. Some force had once created the compass that the brothers carried. Was there nothing she could do now to make the opposite happen?

Gods, she would take one pointing to the Hag again - at least she’d known where the old woman was!

Or, she thought she did.

She could not get a hold of the invisible thread for days. The chains had even been silent. It was as if the Hag was gone from the face of the earth.

This should have made Val happy, but to be severed this way felt like she had lost something, too.

It was so quiet.

She heard the rustling of leaves and movement in the trees more than once. She heard the whisper of a chort, although it did not dare come near.

It was on the seventh day around noon, as if from nowhere, the trees parted. In front of them stretched long white fields glittering in the sun.

Ivan stood looking at them, stretching his arms out as if the walk had stiffened them.

“Longer than I thought it would take us!” He told her, smiling with his white teeth as bright as the snow had been. “I thought maybe we took a wrong turn somewhere, but now I’m thinking the snow was just deeper than I anticipated.”

“What?” Val looked at him dumbfounded. “Are you saying you knew where we were going?”

He shrugged lightly.

“I’m a pathfinder. It’s what I do.”

Val looked at him with a newfound admiration.

This whole time - all these months - she was afraid that were she to let him go, he would perish in the woods and not find his way out.

She’d been very, very wrong about him.

He did not need her. It was her that needed him.

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“Sooo…”

Ivan could not tell what she was thinking. The Witch’s face was hard and unreadable. She simply looked out at the smooth surface of the snow. Her face had been just as serene.

Pale, devoid of imperfections. Not a single blemish marred her cheek. Her hair's few grays mixed and flowed with the chestnut strands. She looked as regal as a cat, but one that fully intended to scratch out your eyes were you to move too hastily or dare to look at her.

“Where are you headed now?” He asked, pushing the thoughts away.

Her blank look flushed with panic, but it quickly became impassive.

“I am not sure, I suppose.” She said.

“Can I ask…” He started but found that the words that first came to mind would have been very ill-suited. “I know you’re looking for someone.”

The Witch shot him a very fast and warning look. He held up a hand as if he would have to defend his words physically.

“I will not ask who or why.” He clarified. “But I am looking for someone, too.”

“You aren’t going home?” She asked.

“I cannot.” He shook his head. “I have not done what I came here for. I am still in the North, and my King still needs me to remain here until such a time that I don’t have to.”

She said nothing, so he continued.

“Now, I know you said I am free to go.” He emphasized the ‘you’ as he wanted to make sure she had remembered that it was not he who asked. “But it seems I owe you a bit of debt in that case. And, perhaps, these people we are looking for, they may end up being in the same direction.”

Ivan hoped that he had not overstepped. But here, standing in the stillness of the Northern wilds in the winter, he could not leave someone alone - not even a witch.

“Ivan.” She said finally. “You do not know what you offer. I know your words are guided by genuine goodness, and you mean to make something right - you do not need to make right.”

It had not been a no.

“I broke your plate.”

This got a very unexpected laughter from her, and it rang in the cold the way that it hadn’t in the Glade.

“I broke my plate.” The Witch smiled.

“Then let’s go get you a new one. My treat.” He returned her smile wholeheartedly.

Whether it was pride or something else that he had just overturned, it did not matter. The Witch relaxed and breathed out so hard that her breath held in the icy air as smoke.

“But also, I do not have any money.”

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