They'd arrived at the clearing in good order. There was a small pond that they all washed their faces and hands in, and the woodsman was able to find them some apples and wild vegetables lying in the dirt. They boiled water in a pan over the fire, then made a watery soup.

After dinner they'd all had enough of being awake for one day. Their group leader pointed to a little hollow near the cliff face that marked one edge of the clearing, which gave them all a small measure of shelter from beneath their sleeping bags or torn blankets.

"I'll-"

"Let me guess. You're taking first watch?"

The woodsman huffed in a mixture of noise and amusement.

"I'll be asking for two volunteers tonight. I won't be resting. One of you will stay up the first four hours with me, the other the second four. Whoever it is 'll be on the shotgun."

"I'll do it-"

Four voices rang out at once, which seemed to amuse the woodsman. She looked over at the cobbler, then the teacher and his teenage son.

"Well if you're all up for it, you'll each have a two hour watch instead. Should make tomorrow easier on you?"

She raised her voice.

"What about you? You'll have been up for days if you're up all night tonight."

"I can live with being tired another day. No offence, but I don't really trust any of you to keep a watch here by yourself. I don't trust this place, gives me the creeps."

"I take it there's no arguing with you on this?"

He chuckled.

"Is there ever any arguing with me?"

The teacher and cobbler both snorted, whilst her and the teachers wife locked eyes with an exasperated expression.

----------------------------------------

She took her watch at the first shift. The two of them were silent for the entire two hours, with not even the sounds of insects to break the stillness of the night, neither were there the sounds of owls or other nocturnal animals. She wasn't surprised. Any animals that had once lived in these woods were long gone. She watched as the woodsman kept scanning the treeline, casting worried glances back and forth, between the smouldering fire and the empty jerry can, but said nothing. She shrugged. There was nothing there, but then the woodsman obviously didn't last out here that long without developing a hint of paranoia. She'd be lying if she said the prospect of the canister being empty didn't worry her somewhat as well. If they didn't make it all the way to safety tomorrow... well, she didn't want to think about that too much.

She'd slept remarkably well that night, given the circumstances. The knowledge that she'd be walking over thirty miles come the morning must have helped with that a tad, as well as the long miles they'd all put behind them this last week.

She didn't know how much longer she could manage walking like this, but she was determined to last at least one more day.

She would not be the reason everyone got stuck in the dark.

The walk was long, the going tough, but there had been a strange sense of levity that the group had been missing since they came together almost a full week ago; the old cobbler and the teacher had been talking for a while, and eventually they began to sing. She didn't recognise the words, nor did she pay attention, but after a little while almost everyone in their motley group was whistling or humming along, the simple actions making her feel a much more positive sense of camaraderie than the usual "Stop me from dying and I'll stop you from dying" variant.

At one point even the woodsman had joined in, much to her quiet surprise, but the university student still refused to join in.

Miserable bastard.

Later in the day, long after the brightest hours of the day had passed, a voice called from the east, not far away.

"Woodsman, is that you?"

A small smile came across the face of their guide as two men and a woman walked down the road towards them.

"Hey guys! Regular patrol?"

The woman, who seemed to be their leader, shook her head.

"Nah, there's been more and more activity from shadows a little ways northwest near the old clearing, we're going to check it out."

She piped up.

"Are you sure it was shadows? Cause we were there last night and didn't see a single one of the bastards."

The woodsman shook his head.

"There were half a dozen of them waiting in the treeline, and just as many above us in the branches. I thought i saw a pair in the water but it was too dark to tell if they were there or not."

She blinked, and the other student rounded on him.

"So why the hell didn't you tell us?"

The woodsman raised an eyebrow.

"You'd have panicked and done something stupid. You were safe so long as the fire was burning, so there was no need to worry you."

The teacher spoke.

"I'd have hoped for a little trust between us."

The woodsman turned, but the woman leading the other group spoke up.

"And I'd have hoped you had a little trust in him. You're alive, aren't you? Its what, thirty miles from here to the clearing?"

The woodsman spoke.

"About that much, yeah, a little over. Follow the road thirty miles or so, then there's a small dirt lane that leads off from your right. If you follow that and stick to the path you'll be there in five miles."

She nodded at him.

"So he got you through a thirty-five mile march in one day. Do you think you could manage that with no sleep?"

The teacher looked away.

"No."

"And would you have slept if you knew there were a dozen of those flighty bastards twenty feet away from you?"

"I get your point, okay? I'm sorry."

She nodded, and sighed.

"As am I. You're stressed, I get it, but just have a little faith in him."

If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

She clapped the woodsman on the shoulder as she passed, her comrades doing likewise.

"Good job getting four more out. You should rest a while when you get back; you look like death."

He chuckled.

"I'm just doing what I can. I'll head back to resupply, then I'll be out again. I was only some forty miles away this time. I can make it."

There was silence a moment, both groups enjoying the slightest possible rest as the two leaders stared each other down before continuing on their way. Whatever conversation they had had without words, she did not know.

One of the men motioned to the road, and the woman nodded.

"You're gonna run yourself to death out there, woodsman. I can respect that, kind of. Right, we'd better move out."

The woodsman nodded as the three people moved to walk the way they'd just came.

"Happy hunting."

"Heh. Nothing much happy about this sort of game."

----------------------------------------

They carried on walking for another two hours after that. Eventually, after what felt like an eternity trudging along that old strip of tarmac, the forest came to an end. Before them in the distance was what might have been the single most beautiful sight she'd ever seen. Not for any true aesthetic reasons, but for what it represented.

"The village!"

The woodsman smiled, turning to the group.

"We've less than a mile to go now, everyone! Then you can rest to your heart's content without worrying about being taken in the night or freezing to death!"

Despite the weary faces behind her, she knew all were smiling as she was.

"Hey, woodsman! You're back sooner than I expected. Thought you weren't gonna be back for another two weeks at least?"

The woodsman nodded up at the man on the stone wall, a slight smile playing across his features.

"Foreman, you old bastard! I thought so too."

The man, a foreman, apparently, descended from the stone wall and opened the gates for them.

"So, did you find what you were looking for?"

The woodsman shook his head, his voice clipped.

"No. I've got eight wakers here looking for a place to stay the night and passage east. Reckon you can sort that out."

"Should be able to, haven't had too many wakers come through recently. Eight in one go? That must be a record, even for you."

The woodsman nodded again. She got the sense he was growing tired of the conversation already.

"Aye, I reckon it is. Dumb luck really, I stumbled on half of them about sixty miles west, and the other half stumbled onto our camp one night with shadows hot on their hides. I hate to say anything's down to luck, you know that, but this time it was purely dumb luck."

There was silence between the woodsman and the older man for a little while, a conversation being held between them with naught but a few facial expressions as far as she could make out.

Eventually the foreman spoke, the woodsman doing his best to convince the man of something.

"No."

"I just need another refill, then I'll be back out-"

"I said no."

"I got over sixty miles west this time! I can make it!"

"You can't. No one can. Besides, we don't have the fuel nor supplies to support you that far away."

Silence again.

"You have a group of eight people behind you, hungry and tired. Let's see to them first and then carry this on later."

She gave an internal sigh of relief. If she had to stand on her feet any longer they would surely fall off.

"They're still out there, foreman. I'm going to find them. The road to the coast-"

"Will still be there when you wake up tomorrow. It's been a long road for all of us, but I think for you most of all, friend. Rest a while. You'll run yourself to death at this rate."

The woodsman's face turned to thunder as he shook his fist, before seemingly accepting defeat and stalking away. He was being irrational about whatever this was, that much she knew, but then no-one was perfect.

The foreman shook his head as the woodsman stormed off into the village.

"God help the poor bugger that's gotta deal with that."

He turned to them all.

"Right, who's hungry?"

----------------------------------------

The stew was good, and the fresh bread was even better. After subsisting for a week on the bland, the brittle, and the bitter it was a most welcome relief to eat something that actually had both taste and a texture she could stomach.

"So," the other student started, "the woodsman, is he always this dour? I was sort of expecting you all to be that way. The sleepless, I mean."

The foreman gave a hum as the thought a few moments on the question.

"I think most sleepless were like that at one point or another. Most of us have accepted what we've lost and adapted to our new lives, and whilst he's certainly adept at living this life, I think there's a part of him that still resides out in the west somewhere."

He took another mouthful of his stew, then took a swig of his water.

"He lived on a wooded cliff face on the western coast, you see, as far west as the road goes. Follow it that direction to its end and you'll find a little house overlooking the woods and the sea. There's little there anymore, except perhaps his memories. But those items of sentiment and love are lost to him forever now. There's no way anyone can get that far west anymore."

"If anyone can it's him."

The foreman nodded at the teenager.

"If anyone could it would be him. He might even get there. But there's no way he'd make it back. Besides, whatever he's so adamant to find there will be long gone by now. That far west... he's got no hope of getting anything from there. But in a strange way, that's why he's here with us."

The student spoke again as the old cobbler smiled sadly in understanding.

"What do you mean?"

"He goes out there knowing deep down he'll never find what he seeks, but he does find people like you out there. I think that, in time, that will be enough for him. He just... he just needs to let go. Maybe one day he'll follow the road east and leave his hardships behind."

The teenager piped up, the words of the last few days having already stuck to him like a prayer, just as it had for the woodsman and all those who travelled it.

"The road is life."

The foreman nodded.

"Aye, that it is. And it doesn't end here. One day he'll understand that, I think. I hope he does, anyway."

----------------------------------------

She overheard him speaking heatedly with someone the room over. The other person was clearly angry, about what she didn't know, and the woodsman sounded utterly defeated.

"Give up on them! They're dead, woodsman! We've been willing to entertain your naïve hopes for months now, but even if the others won't admit it I will; we're tired of your quest to find a memory, some husk of a person you can't let go. Pack it in."

The woodsman's voice wasn't quiet nor loud, but there was a sad, almost hopeless tone. It was someone who'd accepted the truth, but still couldn't let go.

It was... she struggled to think of the right words, but it was so different to the boy they'd come to know on the road. He'd always had a melancholic air about him, but in this place, where the safety of eight people was not solely reliant upon his judgement, he had shorn his mask.

"I just need a bit more time. Just... I'm so close I can do it, I can get there. I just need to try again."

There was the sound of a fist slamming against a table.

"You've had your fucking chances! This was, what, your thirty-second attempt? Face the facts and stop this nonsense! Whatever chance you think you had at the start of all of this, it's gone now."

There was a gentler tone from whoever he had been speaking to after a moment of silence, pity for the truth and regret over the previous harshness, she reckoned.

"I'm sorry, young woodsman, but we're worried about you. You're going to get yourself killed soon, and we don't have the petrol or oil to fuel the fires on your expeditions anymore. One day we'll get more in from the east, and maybe then you can try again, but we can't give you any fuel for another expedition for some time."

There was silence for a few moments more before the woodsman emerged from the room, wiping his eyes with his sleeves. She pretended not to see him out of politeness, as though she hadn't just been eavesdropping.

"You could always come east with us, you know."

The voice of the teacher's wife cut through the silence of the room, and the woodsman stopped in place.

"I... I could, couldn't I?"

The old cobbler nodded.

"We'd all be happy to have you."

Their young woodsman sighed and dipped his head a little.

"I'll... I'll think on it. I'll sleep on it. Goodnight."

And with that he left the eight of them in their quarters.

----------------------------------------

That night she fell asleep not to the distant howling of shadows, but to the gentle strumming of an acoustic guitar somewhere outside and a hummed tune carried on the wind.

She was safe.

She was alive.