Lilau took her own advice. She stayed close to her shelter, fortifying it against the colder nights.

The villagers lost their curiosity after the first few days. Their chatter grew quiet when looking Lilau’s way. Even the little ones, ever reckless, eventually stopped trying to get closer. Although it left Lilau scrabbling for answers, she preferred returning to her role as the village outcast. It felt familiar and soothing—something the forest seemed intent on taking away.

Alakna remained Lilau’s only connection to the new tribe as the woman diligently cared for her and Makotae over the moon it took for them to regain their strength. When not casting suspicious glances in Lilau’s direction, the rest of the village stayed within their mud houses or gathered in the woods. Occasionally, a group would walk into the forest laden with hunting supplies. Lilau had counted five such groups, each returning with fewer and fewer kills. The encroaching winter had something to do with the decrease in prey. Lilau knew that wasn’t all.

Every creature in the forest was on edge. Many mornings were devoid of birdsong and the sound of creatures in the trees. On those that weren’t, the animals would dart off at the first sign of movement.

The emaciated deer Fokla hadn’t returned to her shelter, but she’d seen it walking between the trees, its long moans waking her up in the middle of the night. It had done so last night. Lilau had already been awake when the sun rose, and now stood tying the last of Makotae’s saddlebags in place.

Makotae’s winter coat was in full growth. The extra growth made him look like a black, white-tipped barrel with legs.

He huffed. Says the ball of furs.

Lilau grinned and slipped her fur-lined gloves back on. I never said it was a bad thing.

Alakna had done her job well. Not only had she healed their injuries near perfectly, but she’d also provided Lilau with thicker clothing, and a pair of snowshoes now slung across her back. With the deepening chill in the wind and the dusting of snow on the ground, Lilau was more than grateful.

Lilau frowned. If only she knew a better way of repaying Alakna other than leaving.

For the first time she could recall, Lilau felt a sadness for not trying harder to befriend Alakna and her people. She squashed the emotion. She’d made her choice, and they’d made theirs. Their food sources were dwindling and their Fokla was ill. The best she could do was what she did best—remove herself as a mouth to feed and demand answers from the land’s Fokla. Tirijuki had made itself scarce. That left her with the deer.

Lilau pulled herself into Makotae’s saddle. A quick scan located the lurking Fokla at the edge of the village. It crept between the trees on six spindly legs, its many eyes swiveling in its ashen face. If the thing ever could talk, Lilau was fairly certain it could no longer. That was fine. Feechi had taught her many things of the spirit world. The deer Fokla’s visits, though farther away, had increased over time, as if drawn to her. Time to see what it wanted.

The smell of decayed matter and flesh grew stronger as she and Makotae drew closer. She swallowed, trying to still the roiling of her stomach as repulsion and unease fought for dominance inside of it.

Do you think it was always so ugly? Makotae asked.

Lilau clenched her jaw. She was funneling the image of the Fokla to Makotae, allowing him to pick the best path to their quarry. While she’d been able to block out most of the sickeningly green Earth’s Blood flowing through the forest, the added focus of concentrating on the Fokla seemed to highlight the veins. It reminded Lilau of infected wounds.

No. Something’s wrong. Just like in the grasslands. A... sickness I don’t understand, Lilau replied.

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Will following this thing give us any answers?

I doubt it knows much of anything anymore, but I’m pretty sure it’s connected to a Guardian. Or at least, it used to be. Maybe following it will show us something.

Ah.

Makotae’s hackles rose. Their last, and only, encounter with a tribe’s Guardian had almost got Lilau trampled. Only quick thinking and preparation had spared her life. This time, because of the closed-lipped Alakna and her own admittedly poor social skills, she had neither.

They got within half a dozen strides of the Fokla. It stopped its pacing, all eight eyes locking onto their location. Lilau shivered under its glassy gaze.

Three strides. The Fokla turned, lowered its head, and stomped the ground.

Makotae stopped, caught between answering the threat with his own, or getting out of the way. What now?

Wait. If it’s mad, and we run, it will chase us down.

If it’s mad, won’t it attack us either way?

Lilau didn’t get to answer. The Fokla reared, letting out a bellow, reminiscent of a woman’s scream. Lilau’s blood ran colder than the air. Makotae tensed, his weight shifting to the side to bring them out of harm’s way.

Four limbs thrashed the air as the Fokla pivoted, darting into the woods with far more speed than its form suggested possible.

Lilau blinked as her mind struggled to catch up with the change of events. The Fokla was running. It was getting away.

Chase it, Makotae!

He snarled and pushed off, his long strides barely matching the Fokla’s.

Don’t lose it!

I’m trying. Really regretting lying around so much.

His breath puffed out as he sped up, closing some of the distance between them and the Fokla. Lilau could feel his fatigue building. They’d been diligent in regaining their strength as they healed, but racing a spirit headlong into the forest was still a lot to ask of Makotae.

The large, six-legged deer wove through the needle-leaved trees with surprising ease, its emaciated body slipping around and over obstacles like a centipede scurrying over the ground.

Lilau’s stomach flopped. The whole thing felt wrong. Feechi had taught her, and the grasslands had confirmed, threatened Fokla converged around their Guardian. At least in normal situations.

Makotae lurched right, forcing Lilau to scrabble to stay in the saddle. She abandoned her train of thought as she tucked lower against Makotae’s back. The urge which had pulled her from the Wolf Tribe, and had dragged her across the grasslands, had come back full force. Every bit pointed to the quarry in front of her.

The Fokla ran on, deeper into the forest. The Earth’s Blood grew thicker beneath their feet. Dark green veins traced the increasingly frozen ground as snow fell. The snowflakes added to the dusting of the forest floor until Makotae’s paws sank into powder with each stride.

Makotae, stop.

Gladly.

He dropped into a slow lope, then stopped, his tongue hanging out and his chest heaving. His eyes locked on the deer Fokla as it disappeared from sight. How are we going to find it now?

I think we’re already where we need to be.

Makotae perked up, head swiveling. Without her sharing her sight, he couldn’t see most of what she did, but what he could see coupled with the prickle in the air was plenty. His ears lay back as he growled. I don’t like it here.

Lilau grimaced. Neither do I.

Bare branches swayed above undisturbed ice and snow. Even the evergreen trees peculiar to this land had lost every needle, leaving their empty branches to stick out like ribs on a skeleton.

To their right, a snowdrift rose toward the sky, the top obscured in a blizzard much stronger than the slight flurry around them. A gust of wind blew across the snowdrift, cascading air cold enough to freeze bone, and bringing with it a stench which put the deer to shame. The metallic scent of death, and the fetid scent of decay. The sour rot of infection left to eat a body down to the marrow.

Lilau rolled off Makotae. She hit the ground and scrabbled for a bit of distance as her stomach emptied its contents. Green splattered across the pure snow. Green like the veins in the land.

Her skin flushed. The burning cold on her face shifted to scalding heat as all the food she’d eaten since coming to the forest ran through her mind. Had she been infected as well? Was her fate to become like the rotten Fokla?

Lilau shook her head and spat. No. The taste on her tongue, although tinged with the stench in the air, wasn’t infection or poison. She’d skipped breakfast in her haste to follow the Fokla. She’d merely brought up digestive juices. Bitter and acidic, but harmless.

Makotae sniffed at the back of her head, worry thick in thoughts.

I’m fine, she assured him. The smell got to me, is all.

The smell?

She could hear Makotae sniff the air.

I smell nothing.

Good. That means it’s coming from a Fokla. Probably the one we’re looking for.