We ran all night, the Marsh letting us through its wilds. The air around us was tight as the ground moved beneath our feet.
Slowly, the Marsh's canopy began to part, not all at once. Not with ceremony. Just a gradual thinning of the mist, a softening of the ground beneath our feet, the reeds growing shorter and less insistent until we were walking on something that felt almost like a path.
As the path twisted, it led us up a hill. Mydrn hunched over. “Are we almost there? I am so tired,” he stated while he looked as if even the ground was an appealing bed.
“There are lights up ahead.” Castor looked at me with wary eyes.
“Lights are good.” Mumbled Mydrn.
We weren’t close to Gyra yet.
I know, but the boy needs rest. Castor's voice came into my mind. So do we.
“Alright,” I said aloud, but Spirit tugged at me as we walked.
I don’t trust what we are walking into. I told Castor through the bond.
I don’t either. We will be ready. His response was comforting in a way. As if just knowing he was doing this with me was something to hold onto.
We approached the entrance to a small village. As we walked up, eyes followed us. I could feel them pressing into my back.
We are being watched. I nudged Castor.
He almost went still, but thought better of it and pretended not to notice.
Outside, a man with a long gray beard sat in a rocking chair. “What brings you to our humble village?” His voice quivered as if it hurt to talk.
“We seek a good night's rest and then will be on our way,” responded Castor.
He looked between Castor and me, his eyes resting on Mydrn.
“Not your child. She’s too young to have given birth to him.” The older man stated it as if it were a simple fact. Refusing to acknowledge me. “Why do you have him?” He asked, leaning in slightly.
“We were given charge of him,” Castor stated simply.
The older man's eyes never left Mydrn. “Who are you, boy?”
“Just a boy…” Mydrn’s voice was small.
“Please, sir, we just need rest. We won’t be any trouble.” I tried to keep my voice even, but I could feel the tension building beneath my feet.
“What are you, boy?” He pressed Mydrn to answer, ignoring me as if I wasn’t there.
“Dawnborn,” Mydrn mumbled.
The man rose slowly from his chair, chuckling. “Dawnborn, huh? You got a Worldname, huh, boy?”
We stepped back as I pushed Mydrn behind me. Castor drew his sword. Spirit was stirring, ready.
“We like the taste of those with Worldnames.” A chill ran up my spine at the word taste.
Slowly, lights from the surrounding forest began to come towards us.
“What do you mean by taste?” Mydrn’s voice was shaking.
The man crouched and leaned in.
“We eat the souls of Worldnames.” His shoulders cracked and sank in as he began to walk on all fours. The air filled with the smell of rot. “Worldname souls are a delicacy.”
He ran at us, then lunged forward with a snarl.
Spirit rose inside of me, and I put a hand out, creating a barrier around us. When he ran into it, he bounced back a few feet.
“You can starve,” I yelled as we began to run.
Back towards the Marsh.
Toward the unknown.
The Marsh greeted us, let us enter the thick reeds, and left them behind for now.