The forest felt endless. Towering trees cast long, shadowy shapes in the dim light of dawn, their thick canopies doing little to keep the persistent rain from soaking through my cloak. The downpour hadn’t relented since the night before, and every step through the muddy road seemed to sap the strength from my legs. Trevor led the way, his grizzled face set in determination as he plowed ahead, his boots sinking into the muck with each step. Heinrich followed close behind, silent as ever but showing signs of wear.
I brought up the rear, struggling to keep pace. My ankle throbbed where the spiked bolas had cut me, and every step sent a jolt of pain up my leg. My mind drifted, longing for the enchanted interior of the caravan—the dry, cushioned seats, the faint hum of its magical propulsion, and, most importantly, my belongings.
“You’re dragging, boy,” Trevor barked over his shoulder, his voice sharp despite the weariness etched into his features. “Pick up the pace.”
I bit back a retort, focusing instead on putting one foot in front of the other. Hexa chimed in softly, her voice a welcome distraction.
“Your body’s current state is suboptimal for prolonged exertion. Muscle fatigue is increasing at a rapid rate, and your stamina reserves are low.”
“Thanks for the pep talk,” I muttered under my breath.
----------------------------------------
The rain persisted through the night, a constant drumbeat that seemed to mock my exhaustion. By the time the pale light of morning broke through the forest, my legs felt like lead, and my soaked clothes clung uncomfortably to my skin. Trevor finally called for a brief stop, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon.
It wasn’t long before we spotted it—a small walled settlement nestled at the base of a hill. The sight brought a flicker of hope to my tired heart. It was the first sign of civilization I’d seen since crossing into the Forest Kingdom of Drugar, and it was far smaller than Valda-Ashdock. The walls were sturdy but modest, clearly built to keep out raiders rather than withstand a prolonged siege.
As we approached, a gruff voice called out from the top of the gate. “Turn around, strangers. We’re not takin’ visitors.”
Trevor raised a hand, stepping forward. “We’re not looking for trouble. Just a place to rest and some help catching up with a caravan.”
The man on the wall, a burly figure with a crossbow slung over his shoulder, spat over the side. “I said, move along. We’ve got nothin’ for you.”
Trevor scowled, his patience clearly wearing thin. He opened his mouth to retort when the gates creaked open, revealing an older woman in a plain dress, her posture commanding despite her frailty. She stepped out, her sharp eyes scanning us before settling on Trevor.
“Enough, Harlin,” she said, her tone brisk. “If they mean no harm, there’s no reason not to be hospitable. Or have you forgotten our ways?”
The man grumbled under his breath but lowered his crossbow, stepping aside as the woman gestured for us to enter. We exchanged uncertain glances before following her inside.
----------------------------------------
The village was small, its narrow dirt streets lined with modest wooden homes. Smoke curled from the chimneys, and a few curious faces peeked out from windows as we passed. The rain had turned the ground to mud, and the air carried the faint smell of wet earth and woodsmoke. Despite its simplicity, the settlement exuded a sense of unity—a place built and maintained by family.
The old woman, who introduced herself as Ms. Grubour, led us to a small communal building at the center of the village. Inside, the air was warm and dry, the scent of cooking vegetables wafting from a pot over a crackling fire.
“Sit,” she instructed, gesturing to a rough-hewn table. “I’ll fetch you some soup. It’s not much, but it’ll warm you up.”
We sat gratefully, and I let out a sigh of relief as I pulled off my soaked cloak. The wooden bench beneath me felt like heaven after hours of trudging through the rain. Ms. Grubour returned moments later with three bowls of steaming vegetable soup. It was simple—watery and sparse—but after the night we’d had, it tasted like a feast.
Between spoonfuls, Trevor explained our situation, describing the caravan and our need for two horses to catch up. Ms. Grubour listened in silence, her sharp eyes studying us intently. When Trevor finished, she leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful.
This novel's true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.
“I understand your plight,” she said slowly. “But I’m afraid I can’t spare any horses. We were raided just two days ago, and we’re still recovering. Every able-bodied creature we have is needed here.”
Trevor’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Fair enough. Thank you for the soup, ma’am.”
----------------------------------------
We didn’t linger. The refusal left a bitter taste in my mouth, but Trevor seemed resigned. As we stepped back out into the rain, he muttered under his breath, “No point wasting time. The next settlement will have to do.”
The prospect of continuing the trek on no sleep made my stomach sink, but I bit back my complaints. The muddy tracks left by the caravan were still visible, a faint trail winding through the dense forest. Trevor took the lead again, his determined pace unbroken despite the fatigue etched into his features.
Hexa’s voice chimed softly in my mind. “Your physical condition is deteriorating. Continued travel without rest may result in—”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” I muttered. “Not much of a choice, is there?”
The rain continued to fall in relentless sheets, each drop hammering against my resolve. My body ached, my ankle throbbed, and every step felt like a battle against the elements. But as the muddy trail stretched on before us, I forced myself to keep moving. There was no going back. Not now.
The rain never stopped.
It hammered down in relentless sheets as we trudged through the forest, the muddy caravan tracks our only guide. The weight of the constant downpour was oppressive, soaking through every layer of clothing, chilling us to the bone. The forest’s canopy did little to shield us, the leaves overhead dripping with water that pooled and splattered down with every gust of wind.
Trevor led the way, his grizzled face set in grim determination. Heinrich followed close behind, silent as ever but visibly drained. I stumbled after them, my ankle screaming in protest with every step. Hexa’s updates on my physical condition were a constant background noise, her tone clipped and analytical as she listed the growing litany of issues—muscle fatigue, dehydration, minor hypothermia.
By mid-afternoon, even Trevor began to slow, pausing occasionally to wipe the rain from his face and scan the horizon. The muddy tracks remained visible, but the trail felt endless, stretching out like a cruel taunt.
“We’re in a sorry state,” Trevor muttered, breaking the heavy silence. “Nothing on us but soaked clothes and empty stomachs. If we don’t hit the caravan or a settlement soon, we’ll be sleeping out here tonight.”
The thought made my stomach churn. I glanced at Heinrich, who gave a grim nod but said nothing. None of us wanted to admit it, but Trevor was right—we weren’t going to make it anywhere before nightfall.
----------------------------------------
As the gray light of day began to fade, the forest seemed to grow darker, the shadows deepening with each passing minute. The tracks ahead were barely visible now, obscured by the mud and the encroaching gloom. Trevor finally called for a halt, his voice heavy with frustration.
“This is it,” he said, gesturing to a small clearing off the trail. “We’ll stop here for the night. Ain’t much of a choice.”
We gathered together, our exhaustion outweighing any hesitation. The clearing was little more than a patch of flattened grass surrounded by dense trees, the rain continuing to pour down through the gaps in the canopy. Trevor dropped his pack and began gathering what few branches he could find that weren’t entirely soaked through.
“Don’t bother with a fire,” he said gruffly. “We’d never get it lit in this weather, and the light might attract trouble. Just sit tight and keep quiet.”
Heinrich and I nodded, settling into the clearing’s edge. My entire body ached as I sat down, leaning against a tree trunk. The mud squelched beneath me, and I pulled my cloak tighter around myself, though it did little to ward off the chill.
Trevor sat nearby, his sword resting across his knees as he scanned the darkened forest. “I’ll take first watch,” he announced, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Listen close, boy. Things in these woods ain’t always what they seem. And the gods, well...” He trailed off, his expression hardening. “They might see the three of us as a fair target for a solo raider. Rare, but it happens. Someone’s always got to keep watch. Always remember that.”
The weight of his words settled over me like the rain, cold and unrelenting. I shifted uncomfortably, the reality of our situation pressing down on me. The thought of being ambushed in the middle of the night, of facing yet another raid, made my stomach churn. But Trevor’s calm, no-nonsense demeanor was oddly reassuring.
Heinrich grunted, settling into the mud with surprising ease. “Wake me when it’s my turn,” he muttered, pulling his cloak over his head.
I tried to follow his example, leaning back against the tree and closing my eyes. But sleep felt impossible, the cold and wet seeping into my bones, the sound of the rain filling my ears. Every creak of the forest, every rustle of leaves, sent a jolt of fear through me.
Trevor’s voice broke through the darkness, low and steady. “Rest while you can, boy. You’ll need your strength for tomorrow.”
I nodded, though my eyes remained open, staring up at the rain-soaked canopy above. The forest felt alive around us, its presence heavy and watchful. For the first time, I truly understood what Trevor meant. Out here, the gods played their games, and we were little more than pieces on their board.