The basin they fell into, after that long, thankfully uneventful run, was the seat of the Great Tree they'd be calling home that night. They passed underneath the tree's roots, enormous structures that held the thing's body above the earth, and made ample cover for anything not of the flying type. At times it amazed Redmun that this land held such wonders, alongside such monstrosities, but he didn’t let himself wonder for long. That sort of woeful thought could destroy a man.

The day had already been growing long, but stepping underneath a Great Tree brought night in an instant.

“What now?” Jessa asked at the threshold, though quietly. Anything too loud might awaken the denizens of the tree above.

Allow me, the Evil said, and Redmun's eyes began to burn. He doubled over, flinching back as if from some blow, but there was nothing coming. Nothing from outside, at least. When Redmun blinked open his eyes, they pierced the dark as if it weren't there, and burned like fire.

Redmun spat. “Doing me favours now, Evil?”

A well-deserved gift for your today's efforts, it said without a hint of mocking in its bland tone.

“You can take your gifts and piss off,” Redmun muttered, but grabbed Jessa's hand and made his way to the centre, picking up tried twigs and bark on the way.

I only wish to help. You could do this yourself, if you stopped rejecting my powers, Redmun.

Redmun gritted his teeth and said nothing. Don't talk to it, he told himself. It just makes things worse.

Dodging under and between the thick roots, they found a central 'chamber' in the darkness, as well as a dug-out fire pit. These places were well used by any traveler through the Plains. Redmun assembled fallen bark and roots in a pile, and set to work on it.

“That hurt?” Jessa asked, looking right into his eyes – probably the only thing she could see in that dark.

Redmun blinked, and a tear slipped out. “Yep.”

Jessa nodded, and moved to hold the wood as he worked at it. “It'd be nice to know what that thing wants with your father, you know? Don't like it thinking we're doing what it wants.”

“That's probably what it does think,” Redmun said. There was starting to be some heat, and some soft cinders in the wood. It was damn hard work, and he couldn't let up, so his words came between breathless gasps. “More than a decade wandering, and I've never met an Evil so damned infuriating. This one's the only one that really seems to believe it's good. 'Light and purity and cleansing' and all that. Piss.”

“At least yours doesn't scream in your ear,” Jessa said in that dry-as-dirt voice of hers. Redmun smiled, both at that, and the slowly catching flames. As the fire rose, the burning in his eyes died.

With the fire finally starting to build, they each spent their time finally scraping the mud off what little equipment they had left.

As Redmun wiped down the worn leather, his mind wandered back to Potsdoor. As he remembered it, there'd been at least two-hundred people in that place. Gone, just like that. Their fault, in a way, for following that idiot of a mayor, willing to give up their children for a flimsy life somewhere new. Though that did nothing to placate his guilt.

Now that Potsdoor was gone, there were only three places outside of Khelvorias' walls that were inhabitable, and worth a crap. Al'Hagr, in the middle of a the White-Desert. The cost for living there, amongst other things, was that if you ever spilt a single drop of blood, water or sweat on the bare ground, the earth itself would open and eat you. Redmun had never been there, and never wanted to go. Jessa's accounts told of the weird politics that sort of living brought. There was Hollow Grove, the pact for which was utterly mysterious to everyone, including those living there. That sounded like a life of anxiety to Redmun, especially considering that the Evils there were known for being intelligent, with a sick amount of fore-thought. And finally, Lutsmouth, which had been carved out of a damned mountain over millenia. To think that you'd settle an entirely new place to live for the low price of a few babies a month was obscene, and those people should have known death was coming.

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And yet their deaths had been more horrible than anything Redmun had seen. Especially since he couldn't quite be sure they weren't still alive in their disgusting ichorous form.

“Think things will ever get better?” he found himself asking as he scratched off a particularly large lump.

“What, you mean will we find food?” Jessa asked, scrubbing at her jacket.

Redmun laughed. “No, Jessa. I mean do you think we'll ever kill enough Evils to make a difference? Or find a way back to wherever the hell we came from – the Far-Lands? 'Live with the Gods' and all that?”

Jessa stopped in her mud-basking to glance at him. “Are you dying?” she asked, all seriousness.

“I don't think so.”

“Then I don't see why you're bothering me with this stuff. Only dying people get to ask annoying, pointless questions.” She turned and restarted her work, this time with even more vigor. “Unless you're a politician.”

“I think you mean philosopher,” Redmun said.

“Pff. Like it makes a difference.” She moved back, examining her work, and began redressing by the fire. “Waste of life.”

Redmun sighed, and stood. He took off his heavy jacket, and began working at the straps to his breastplate. “Well, that's what people do with the time we buy them, so,” he shrugged, “must be worth something.”

Redmun stopped. Footsteps. His hand shifted to the handle of his dagger, and he saw Jessa do the same, staring into the darkness, waiting.

“Hello?” a frail, broken woman's voice asked after a time. “I.. I'm sorry…. Masters?” Slowly, woman came around a corner of roots. A dark dress stained and torn beyond recognition was all that covered her pitiful form. As frail and broken looking as her voice implied, hers was a shock of dirty hair framing a sharp, bruised face. As she inched around the curtain-wall of roots, she held her shivering hands clasped together before her breasts, like a damsel hoping for a knight, but afraid of monsters.

Her wide-eyes flared at them for a moment before wincing and covering her eyes. Slowly, like a timid creature, she raised her head over her forearm, and looked at the two of them. Redmun didn't move or speak. Jessa was even more still.

“Please, are you Possessors? Can you take me with you?” she asked, creeping toward Redmun on bare feet, a starved hand grasping for him. Redmun stayed put, staring at her, disbelieving. “I've been here for a week. I don't know how much longer I have.” It was a voice without hope, words void of life. She fell to her knees and wept.

Redmun squinted down at her. The refuse on the ground shifted under her weight. Not some illusion, then – not that anything with that sort of ability lived in these parts. A real woman, then. He let go of his dagger.

Redmun took a step forward, putting a hand on the dirty woman's shoulder, and felt almost nothing but bone. “Where are you from?” he asked.

“Everlet, good sir, in Khelvorias. On the coast. A fishing village, good sir.”

“Everlet,” Redmun repeated, as if it mattered. “Where were you headed?”

“Hollow Grove, good, dear sir.” Her fingers twitched, as if desperate to touch him. “Hollow Grove, where my only family remains. My caravan was attacked, and we got separated.” Her voice became shrill, descending into weeping. “I don't know where they went…”

“And your name?” Redmun asked. She looked up, the tears in her eyes had wiped away some of the dirt, revealing the flesh beneath. It was smooth, youthful, and deathly pale.

“Layla Thortell.”

“Layla Thortell.” Redmun nodded, and sighed. It was their duty to save unfortunates such as this. She'd even hired a caravan to travel with, rather than risking it herself like some stupid idiots did. But things happened, and now she was deserted.

“We'll can take you as far as Lutmouth,” he said, figuring out which way around his shirt went. “Then we're moving on. We've business of our own to attend to.”

The poor woman's face lit up with an enormous smile. “Thank you, thank you!” She tried to stand, but collapsed to the ground again.

Gods, I have no idea what to do with this one. Redmun, an awkward smile on his face, looked to Jessa for help. She was lying on her side, her head propped up on her elbow, watching on with the edges of a smirk curling her lips. He shot her a dirty look, and searched in his jacket pocket, found some dried meat. When she raised her head he held it out to her. “Eat, miss.” She reached out, slowly, as if he were offering her something holy, and began nibbling. “I assume you have water, or else you wouldn't be starving. Were you wounded? Bitten?”

“Yes, good sir.” She pointed to her left. “It trickles down the tree, into a pool of sorts.”

“Down the…” He looked in the direction. It might rain there, but not enough to make a pool… Redmun's eyes widened in horror. She's been drinking Mird piss. No wonder Layla was shivering – she was dying. How long had she been there that she hadn't noticed what she'd been drinking?

He fetched his water bottle from beneath his jacket, and held it to her lips. “Drink, eat, and go to sleep. You'll need your rest, if you're to keep up.”

“You'll protect me, then, good sir?” she asked over a mouthful of meat.

“We can.” He tried to give her a warm smile.

“Oh, thank goodness. What is your name, kind sir?”

“Redmun Briandry, Miss Layla,” he said, and shared another glance with Jessa. The woman had hardly acknowledged Jessa's existence. She might just be delirious. “Go to sleep, now. We'll set off in the morning.” He guided her down to the ground, her eyes still looking up at him like he were some hero out of the tales. He smiled and nodded and made soothing sounds, even bundling up his jacket for her to use as a pillow. When her eyes finally closed, he moved around the fire to Jessa.

They both sat awake awhile, staring at Layla, listening to her ragged, wheezing breaths of their new companion. It didn't need to be said – they couldn't save her. Layla was already dead.