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As they got moving again, he could not help but wonder what she was looking for.

She’d known about the wars, kings, and faraway lands - although not in great detail. Yet, he did not see a single book back in the hut. She never spoke of herself, and he had been afraid to ask. Yet, something about her portrayed the impression that she had been a scared young girl, walling herself away in a cold, dark place.

Of course, this was nonsense because Hags were thousands of years old.

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The Tethers of the Nothing-touched: An entry.

A name freely given to a Nothing-touched creates a thread. Look for it; it will feel like impending pain. A thread becomes a tether. A tether by a greater creature can become a binding. A binding can be manipulated to, in turn, influence the Named.

Below it, at a slightly different angle in the margins:

A two-way door?

Her own entry.

Val stared at the pages every night. Now and then, she would write something down.

Entries made by others flowed with the information that Sirin had provided - or that she learned on her own in the Glade. A thread of the Nothing was never mentioned anywhere in the journal before.

She did not think that they knew of this strange sense. It could have even been that she had made it up, her mind so scrambled by the years spent at the Hag’s beck and call. But, she did not quite think so.

How many others had the Hag bound by their name that lived to tell the tale? How many could feel her presence and see through her eyes? Val had the rare chance to document this. To understand it. To make sure that when she was gone and the creature remained, someone else could understand it too.

Early in the day, they made it to a small town.

It was strange and fairly jarring for Val to see buildings and people again.

Twice in her life now, she’d become wild and estranged.

But thankfully, Ivan had not.

Confidently, he led them through the streets, nodding to people when they made eye contact and even whistling at times when his expression became absent-minded.

Val had money. When she left, her mother insisted she take enough to get her by.

“I’ve no use for it.” Her mother said. “I’ve everything I need here. What is a bar of soap or a new pair of shoes now and then? I could still get a hundred of each were I to need to.”

And with this, she could get them both rooms for the night at a rather seedy inn that stood above a lively tavern. The people here were dirty and crude, and many had been in service of the King as tax collectors, purveyors, and merchant escorts. They spoke of their important positions loudly over mugs of stale-smelling beer.

It seemed they were the only people well off enough to be there - the residents had looked as impoverished as she remembered, maybe even more so.

But Ivan said this was a travel town that fell very close to the main road.

Once he got his bearings, he explained that the cities along the main road had been mostly occupied - and travelers outside the soldiers were directed elsewhere for lodgings and provisions. Not that there were many, but trade had continued to flow to deliver cattle and lumber to the capital, Volkograd.

When Val asked him where it was that he planned to go, he only shrugged.

“I suppose, just onward.”

This had been as satisfying of an answer as any. Val had no idea where to start herself.

She knew him and was confident that she would know his path - if he were to follow a path at all.

A part of her wanted to backtrack. To find the burned-down barn and farmhouse that housed the nightmare that had been the end of both their lives.

But it meant to strip herself of hope, and she was not ready. Not after all this time. She would have rather wandered the world for the rest of her life than think there had not been a point to do so at all.

The Tavern had seen better days. It consisted of a big room and a swinging door at the end, where girls darted in and out with drinks and handfuls of coins. At one time, it looked like this may have been a fairly respectable place, with a stone hearth and a tapestry above it - now the outline of one remained on the wall where the ash and soot had not stuck to the walls.

It was quite loud, and they passed through it quickly to get to the inn on the other side.

She had not spoken her name to the innkeeper, and encouraged Ivan to do the same.

Sirin: An entry.

The Nothing-touched had received a name freely but had not clung to it and spoke it only once. There had been no interest, and I assume that a name is not the ultimate goal of those who hear it. Perhaps not many can use it at all.

A knock came at her door. It was already fairly late.

When she opened it, a bashful Ivan stood there, looking as if he did not even mean to knock. His shape had taken up almost the entire doorway.

“I came upon some money.” He said, a hint of embarrassment to his words. “And I was wondering if you would join me for a drink downstairs? I owe you greatly for the room; it is the least I can do.”

Val thought for a moment.

Drink had not been something she was fond of ever since… it had encouraged very poor decisions. But, having spent years alone in the woods, she yearned to see and hear people speak again.

She nodded to him, and his face lit up.

“Lead the way.” She said dryly so as not to give him the impression she meant to participate for long.

“One more thing…” He paused. “I noticed you have not said your name - to anyone. And I think that is wise, but someone might ask.”

“Oh.” She had not considered it, but he had a very good point. She thought about it for a moment. “Then, I am Anne.”

Val had been worried that Ivan might be the type of man who drank too much and thought too little when the spirits hit him. She did not wish to leave in shame later in the night.

But, to her surprise, he only had one drink for nearly an hour.

What was more shocking was just how friendly he had been. He struck up a conversation with another man and they laughed - and Ivan bought him a beer. The two men had turned to three and then to five. Once learning their names, he immediately introduced her as Anne. The men would utter a greeting but ultimately did not deem it important to speak to her.

He floated around the room, and she would hear his voice among the others as he laughed or told a story - but he always returned to where she was seated.

“I do not understand how you do that.” She said.

“Do what?”

She nodded to the people.

“How you have made a friend of everyone here.”

He smiled slyly.

“What better way is there to search for information?” He looked around the room, “they’re eager to talk, and I am eager to listen. These men travel all across the North under the King’s flag. They do not hear my accent, so they speak freely. And what is there to speak of besides the road?”

It was clever, Val thought, and then another thing came to mind.

“What do you listen for? What do you hope to gain?” She asked. His smile remained but changed a bit.

“If I tell you, will you regale me with the same?”

“No.”

“Thought I would ask.” He put his elbow on the table and leaned forward, speaking in hushed tones. “I listen for all, but most importantly - for whereabouts of the troops and outposts. There is one that stretches for a league across the land, Korschey’s horde, but…”

He shrugged again, and his lips grew thin.

“The nature of the North is that even with one that size, it may take a long time to find.”

“So it is not a person that you look for.” She said, “But many people.”

“Somewhat.” He nodded. “We have men here; they speak Common flawlessly and wear the fur of the local beasts. They aren’t always as lucky as I...”

Something crossed his face, and maybe it was bravery.

If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

“...to get plucked out of the woods by a benevolent maiden.”

She felt a slight warmth in her cheeks because his eyes lingered on her face saying that. The drink must have gotten to him after all.

“And what will you do if you find this horde?” She brought him back before he could say more.

“I will return.” He sat back. “And I will report my findings. Information is invaluable to us and difficult to come upon.”

She nodded in understanding but no longer wished to speak on the subject.

Seeing this, he finished the sad remains at the bottom of the mug and stood again.

“Are you sure you do not care for one?” He asked, shaking the mug as if anything had splashed around in it. This time, it gave Val some pause.

“Alright…” She got a bit nervous from these words, but she had grown so tired of her gloom. Being around so many people had been intimidating, and their unfriendliness to her had begun to stress her out. “But only one.”

He brightened at this and walked off into the crowd.

Val looked around again, and the room only got thicker with people. The smell of poorly washed bodies, drink, and mustiness hung in the air so thickly that she could almost taste it. The hearth was blazing since winter raged outside, and the large room got hot quickly.

When Ivan returned, he gently set a large mug before her. Val thanked him and took a whiff of it - immediately regretting her decision. It smelled cheap and yeasty, with the scent of fermentation and staleness from poor storage. When she took a sip - only warm bitterness flowed across her tongue.

She grimaced in disgust.

“That won’t do.” Ivan shook his head and picked up her mug. “Come on.”

He led the way outside, and Val followed him hesitantly at first. But, the cold night air felt like a great relief from the hot, foul indoors.

Once outside, he patted down an indentation in the snow with his boot and set her mug in it - the rim only about an inch above the snow.

“An old trick.” He told her, doing the same with his. “Frosty, you won’t taste the uninspiring libation.”

Rather impressed at the ingenuity, Val nodded. Her breath let off steam, and she looked at it curiously. The cold had stung, but she had not seen it in years. She used to love it and found she loved it still, as a fondness washed over her at the sight of the falling white clumps.

She felt Ivan’s eyes on her.

“May I ask?” He said.

“You may.” She confirmed, “But I may not answer.”

Amused, he dropped his eyes to his hands as if the answer had been expected.

“Hm.” He tried to find the right words to express his wants without offending her. “Where are you from, oh ‘Anne’?”

She took a moment to think if she even wanted to answer. She’d done a lot over the months not to be personal.

“Not far.” She said finally. “A small village.”

His face was completely interested.

“So, when then did you become a witch?” He asked more boldly.

“Gods.” She sighed. This had become annoying very quickly.

He must have seen this on her face because he didn’t wait for an answer.

“Was it a farm town?”

“Not… not really.” She thought of how she would describe her home. “We had farms and cattle. And woodcutters. But the tax men never came. We sustained ourselves, and if someone needed something and we could not make - they’d take some cattle or sacks of potatoes to the market in the city.”

“Hm.” He thought about this information.

“And you? What of your home, you were a farmer?”

He laughed lightly.

“You could say that. We had a farm, like you, we self-sustained.” He said, pride on his face. “But, we also had leagues of orchards. What you saw in the plate - they were olive trees. We are one of the largest in Sudraj.”

“I do not know what those are. I’ve never had an olive.” She told him.

“You would love them!” He said excitedly, and then his expression calmed a little. “Probably. They have so much use! Besides being somewhat of a delicacy, they make an incredible oil. It is medicinal, and having a spoonful does a body a lot of good. Their pits can fuel fires, and their wood is strong and durable. It can be polished so that it is as reflective as stone.”

His passion radiated. He was excited, like a child, to speak of it. And he seemed to recall his life there in detail.

And then, she saw something else. At first, she could not tell what it was, but something was clinging to the back of his collar. Small and gray, it hung like a piece of dirty cloth tangled in his shirt. She stepped closer carefully but did not let on that she had seen anything. He took her motion to mean… something else.

He shifted his feet away from her, his face nervous.

“Uh…” He breathed out. “Perhaps the beer is cold now.”

“Wait.” She raised her hand. “A few more minutes.”

It had been darker indoors, and she could see much clearer in the moonlight reflecting off the snow and a single lamp by the door. The gray mass shifted, and she saw an old wrinkled face among clumps of hair - or maybe fur? She held her breath. Ivan had begun speaking again, and when she tuned back in, he was looking at her expectedly.

“So sorry.” She shook her head, “what was that?”

He looked a bit disappointed but repeated.

“You seem to know things outside the North. How?”

Although she did not wish to divulge the information, she needed to keep him talking while she examined the gray man on his back. Clearly, it had been a creature, but it did not look malicious and had not caused any harm - so far. She found herself curious but did not want to let on to Ivan - or he might knock it off and stomp on it before she could figure it out. Excitement rose at the thought of a brand new journal entry…

“I traveled quite a bit.” She said, “But, in the South, I’ve only been in the desert.”

He chuckled.

“Then you have been to all of the South.” He told her. “Sands, limestone, and canyons and bluffs almost entirely cover us. That is where the White Cities come from. They are built entirely of the limestone from the quarries.”

What he spoke of interested Val, but her eyes kept wandering to the creature. It was not turned in her direction, only fiddled at his collar. Its foot was stuck in the crevasse between his shirt and coat, and it had been trying to shake itself loose. It was so comical, she smiled to try and keep down a laugh. Ivan had thought she was smiling at him.

“I think…” He said, a little more confidence in his voice than before, “You would like the White Cities. If you ever, eh, wanted to go there…”

Val looked at his face and felt a bit sorry for him. Like a boy, he looked so hopeful, his hair messy, with snowflakes - unmelted- falling into it and onto his face. Granted, a very, very large boy.

Meanwhile, the creature dislodged itself and climbed up to his shoulder. Val tensed a bit, and Ivan’s face fell seeing her expression.

“I did not mean…”

“It’s okay,” she looked back at him, “I would like to see them.”

The creature brought both hands up to its mouth and whispered in Ivan’s ear. He did not seem to notice this at all, which left Val more than a little confused. Then, the little man stopped and ducked back into Ivan’s collar.

“I think the beer is cold enough…” Ivan observed, a thin layer of frost appearing on the surface of it as the water separated and froze. “Let’s go inside, I am very thirsty.”

When they came in, the volume of the tavern had increased substantially as the drink flowed, the men becoming rowdier and more jovial.

Ivan almost immediately drained his mug and disappeared into the crowd. Val even wondered if she had offended him somehow when they were outside, so quickly he got away from her.

She sat alone for quite a while, only occasionally taking a sip of her drink. Even at his great height, she could not see Ivan above the others in the crowd. So long had passed that the remaining quarter mug of beer had already warmed to room temperature, and she got up to look for him.

Val had to push through the men who did not want to step aside for her. Twice, she got elbowed so hard that it knocked the air out of her lungs.

Ivan was seated on a chair that struggled underneath him, moving so uninhibitedly that his weight had made the wood creak and strain. He was telling a story, clearly, because his arms waved in the air as if he was demonstrating something from the past. A barmaid came by, handing out drinks to the other men, and his attention immediately turned to her. He enthusiastically began telling her the tale all over again until she stopped him, asking something that Val could not hear. He nodded rapidly, and she walked off.

Again, Val saw the creature poking out of the collar. She wondered, how was it that no one else reacted to it? How could Ivan not even feel it?

Again, it whispered something in his ear and disappeared in his shirt.

The blonde man laughed heartily at something someone said and drained his cup again. Without looking, his hand went to someone else’s drink, and he also took a swig of it.

A large man walked up to him. He was wide, and his belly was round. His beard was frizzy and very, very red. He patted Ivan on the shoulder and, in a booming voice, asked if Ivan would have liked to play another round of cards - if his purse allowed him.

Val hurried forward; that was the very last thing they needed. Such things had led to no good.

“Val!” He exclaimed, and her stomach dropped at her real name. Was he so drunk that he had completely forgotten himself? “Come sit!”

“Ivan-” She started, but he cut her off by raising his voice at a slightly older man seated beside him.

“Come, Father, let the lady sit!”

“Ivan, it is only because I like you that I do not knock you out of your seat and have her sit there with me.” The man laughed genially. He glanced at her as he got up and offered her the chair. “In fact, I still might if you daddle about too long.”

Val sat hesitantly. She was taken aback by how he was behaving and decided to tread carefully as she did not know the man as well as she would have liked at that moment. She could have just left and gone to her room, but she did not trust that he would not speak of the Glade and her in his merriment.

“Ivan,” She tried again, “Maybe it is time to call it a night?”

“Nonsense!” He laughed, and she smelled the pungent brew on his breath. His hair was even more straggly, and his eyes glossy and partially closed. His cheeks were flushed, and beads of sweat appeared on his forehead. “We are among friends! Who could wish for a better night to lose some sleep?”

The barmaid appeared again and set two beer mugs in front of him. He looked at them as if he had not known where they came from and then pushed one to her, taking the other in his hand and immediately taking a large swig.

“Have I told you how preetty you are?” He slurred. “So pretty. But, you scare the everliving shit out of me.”

She could not help but laugh. He looked like a friendly dog, his merry demeanor as if a wagging tail.

“Please, can we go?” Val said.

“Woah!” He threw up his hands dramatically, and laughter rumbled through the men around him. “I am an honest girl, Val, take it slow!”

“Ivan, you have to stop!” She insisted, but his face did not change.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she??” He turned to the men at the table, and a murmur of agreement and some fairly crude words arose. At those, he frowned and pointed a finger. “Not like that, Mikhail. Have some manners - you have a sister! And you, Ludwig, what would your late mother have thought!”

She had to admit, for how sloppy he had been, he remembered people flawlessly.

She saw a tiny gray hand grip the cloth of his shirt again, the creature pulling itself up. It turned to whisper to Ivan once more, and Val decided that this had been it. She reached for it, and saw Ivan’s eyes fly to her hand, reaching for his shoulder, and fear flashed across his face.

She caught herself, hiding the motion by putting it on his back.

“Tell me more about the South.” She urged him. And, relaxing, he started in again about the White Cities and the sweet wines served at their tables.

Val slid her hand toward the creature, but it turned its head toward it and scrambled across the collar band to the other side.

“Pigshit…” She whispered in frustration.

Ivan’s head turned to her.

“What?”

“Missed it.” She replied quickly and louder. “I missed it. Could you repeat?”

This seemed to appease him, and he continued. She glanced at the other side of his neck, where the little gray man clutched onto his ear, scowling at her. She tried subtly reaching for it again, running her hand across Ivan’s back where it was less noticeable to the little creature.

She felt Ivan’s muscles stiffen slightly and realized he had stopped speaking.

At that moment, the little gray man jumped to the shirt's opening at the back of Ivan’s neck, trying to escape. Val’s hand flew for him, and the sudden motion was met with Ivan’s twisting toward her as he reached around her back and pulled her down into a very unexpected kiss.

She did not react fast enough to stop him as he tipped her back to the cheers around the table. And when he let her up, she stood in complete shock, her hand hidden behind her back - a small being wriggling around and trying to escape her grip.

He smiled so widely, his face beaming, and leaned on his arm, gazing up at her. And, when her heart began beating again, she grabbed him with her other arm and forced him to his feet without a word. The cheers rose louder as she dragged him across the room and out the door - toward the inn.

Enough.

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