Keya Ces kept on eyeing the man every time he came near, but Jonathan interacted little after that; instead, briefly traipsing into the forest and busying himself with other strange trinkets on the wolves. Before long, he was bloodied up to the elbows from such morbid work, so he moved to the stream to wash up.

Seeing Keya was still there, he dug into his pack and produced a bar of snow-white soap and finely tailored towels, the likes of which she had never seen before. He placed them on the gravel and then backed away. She cautiously approached, tentatively poking the bundle. The fabric felt like down feathers on her calloused skin.

“Wash your hands and feet.”

She jerked in fright as he broke the silence.

“Ensure you soap up the wounds and cuts.” He looked her up and down. “I’ll get you a change of clothes.”

“To sully such intricate material with my filth would be a travesty!”

The enigmatic man only gave her an arched eyebrow as he stalked off to other tasks.

The soap stung at first, but discomfort quickly died away. There was a subtle clean scent to it as Keya bathed. Her dirty night robe cast aside and the black jacket carefully folded on the bank. What fool would bring such luxuries into the forest? She indulged regardless.

Shadows were long by now, casting a brisk shade over the stream and her fateful tree as she returned to the bank. The inscrutable man was further off beginning a fire.

Near the base of the trunk lay a pair of boots and a huntsman outfit identical to his; although, to her utter surprise, everything fit perfectly. The footwear and socks were an even greater mystery. Quite mundane to the eye, the socks magically conformed as if tailored to her bony limbs alone. And, with the padded contours of each boot, it provided support that beggared belief. I could run for hours without so much as an ache in these. The thought of fleeing was tempting, solely to steal such garb for herself. A glance showed her benefactor blithely oblivious, but that was almost certainly a ruse. With circumstances appearing safe for the moment, Keya deferred anything rash.

She had never worn a leather chest piece before; as such, she decided to forego the armour for the under-shirt and Gavin’s bestowed jacket. Questions buzzed in her mind as she reluctantly approached the fire. But instead of further interrogation, she mutely sat on a nearby rock. In no more than a day, she had met two mysterious humans. How long until this one dies, I wonder?

Jon glanced up from his fire stoking. “Can you show me your hands?”

He demonstrated, and she copied.

“Right, now turn them over. Good, looks like the soap did its job. Your wounds are clean and should heal quickly, mostly dermal damage. You’ll be fine.”

“You are a healer too?” Had this man, unbidden, given her some magical medicinal soap? Observing her previously ruddy and inflamed wounds, they had indeed calmed considerably.

“Huh? No, field triage is part of standard training, but this hardly counts. I have some supplies and equipment, that’s all. Though to you, I suppose…” Stroking his chin. “Keep the soap.”

“Such a valuable salve…”

“Nah-uh-uh, another conversation branch please; I didn’t dive into a magical world to talk about soap for five minutes. I’m glad you wore the composite weave shirt at least. That biker jacket is pretty ‘n all, but it hardly offers much protection.”

“You know of this garment? You are just like him; offering treasures and riches like so much chaff to a stranger!” Keya was touched and frustrated all at once.

“No, I’m not. Gavin’s dead, and I’m an arsehole with a vested interest. Speaking of the dead, what do you wanna do with the bodies?” He off-handedly waved in their direction.

Such insensitivity gnawed at her. “Have you no respect for the departed?!”

“Let’s call it overwhelming respect for the living, and honestly I don’t know your customs. Your world, your rules. The hero’s gear is looted and over there, take what you need.”

He gestured to a pack and belted sword nearby. “As for disposal, the ground here is too hard. I’m not spending the night digging six feet, so our choice is a stone grave or cremation. The pyro in me favours flames, and I got the fuel. What say you, fair maiden?” He ended off in a patronising trill and a facetious flair of hands.

Ignoring his antics, she replied, “Had we a proper Earth mage, it would be trivial. My meagre affinity is insufficient.”

“You can use magic!” His eyes glittered like a little child; the abrupt change was jarring.

“Mere parlour tricks,” said Keya. “Moving a pebble across the ground, or water in a cup is the extent of my powers. Multi-affinity mages are rarely very potent.”

“Show me!” insisted Jon.

“You jest!”

“C’mon show me.”

Humouring him, she picked a nearby stone. Extending her mind, she felt the rock in contact with her being. It became part of her senses as did a small part of the earth it touched. With a gesture of her hand, it rolled weakly across the ground as if prodded by a feather. The palm waving was unnecessary but helped with focus. She felt it move like a touch running across her skin. It was not particularly draining, but all the same, a rather pointless show of potency.

Jon scuttled from his seat, eyeing it only breaths away and sweeping his hands all around as if looking for invisible strings.

Keya shook her head in misapprehension, “You kill direwolves with ease, and yet dance like a little child at seeing a stone move.”

“You can only move earth?”

“Stone, metal, and ice; wood as well if it is dead,” said Keya. “They are comprised of the earth element. If the spirit still lives, it is shielded.”

“Ice is Earth?” asked Jon.

“Of course, have you not been taught of the elements? Earth, water, wind, and fire. How is it that your realm is so ignorant of such trivial things. A babe barely able to walk would know as much.”

“And ice is part earth?” Completely unperturbed by her condescension, he pressed on, eyes transfixed to the stone.

“Why yes, how else could Earth mages move it?” replied Keya.

“And what about corpses?”

“Those such as the wolves might be moved along the ground by an adept Earth mage or floated down a river by Water adepts. They are too heavy to be carried by wind, and the bodies themselves are of mixed water and earth. Mixed elements are the realm of the divine, difficult for even the most powerful and oft taboo.”

“Hmm, this word ‘element’, I don’t think it means what you think it means,” said Jon.

The elf ignored his ridiculous riddles, “Were we closer to the village I might call on helpers to retrieve these beasts. Their meat and hides would be valued in a poor backwater such as ours. As it is, the miasma and flies will taint them by tomorrow. Fire for all is our best recourse; I will prepare the rites for Gavin-sun.”

“You want the wolves back at the village?” Jon Asked.

“Impossible, as I’ve said.”

“Give me a sec.” He ruffled around in his pack and produced a dinner plate-sized package with crumpled and loose material covering the interior. On closer inspection, it was a wider textile rim that was twisted and folded in on itself multiple times. It gave the impression of tightly stacked rings covered in cloth. Unfolding the curio, it sprung open, and the fabric pulled taut into a man-sized circle. The previously creased material became flat as tanned hide stretched over a drum, one side silver and the other white. The opened up linen strung ring shared parallels to embroidery hoops used by women of the village, though of course much bigger.

“What manner of new magic is this?” Keya was seriously wondering how in all the land his pack stored so much. More sorcery, no doubt.

“Magic? Nah, this doubles as a sun reflector, the ‘magic’ starts now.”

He struggled with the cloth hoop as it billowed slightly in the wind. Eventually, he found a flat spot and placed it down. With the silver disk settled on the grass, he stepped back.

“Okay Evy, activate it. Connect to the cold room.”

The metallic fabric shifted, and a strange glow emanated from the ring in the dusky half-light. Keya stood and stared in shock, a mist gathered at the threshold beyond which was a hole, a room! Arcane lights and metal shelves adorned the cellar beyond. Only, the orientation was all wrong. The shelves faced… down. But the contents remained stuck as though fastened where they were. The sight was maddening, but Keya could not bear to look away.

“What… is… that?” Her words escaped in shuddered breaths.

Jon gave her an appraising look. “A bit too much for your mind to handle just yet, I think. Turn away; your vitals are registering a panic attack.”

Mentally she understood the words, but her limbs and senses were bewitched.

Approaching carefully and obscuring the view, Jonathan gently grasped her shoulders. With her vision unfocused on his chest, she at long last dragged them up to his face. There was weighty compassion in his expression. As if those becalmed eyes had beheld unfathomable wonders and horrors; not the eyes of any human she knew, not even Sir Steward’s.

“Turn around, tend to Gavin. I will move the wolves.”

Guiding her away, she tarried for long moments hearing the man heave and grunt as bodies were being dragged. One by one she heard carcasses scrape on gravel before flopping and banging against hard floor. Activity eventually trailed into silence, though she dared not glance to check. Words failed to describe what her eyes had seen, and any further contemplation might shred what sanity she had left. And yet, try as she might, the vision was seared into memory.

“Okay, you can look again.” Jon stood in the empty clearing, folding the hoop compact once more. The wolves were gone; smeared bloodstains trailed towards a spot and then disappeared.

“You-, what-, I-”

“Tar, pitch, oil, and coal, are these words familiar to you?”

“T-They are.”

“Good, choose one or more. I’ll gather wood. We won’t have enough for a full pyre, so fuel will do the rest.”

An hour later they solemnly watched as the makeshift pyre burnt. A mix of pungent lamp oils ensured it burnt hot, and Keya said a quiet prayer to the Affinities, just as Grandpa had taught her years ago. Gavin-sun’s spirit would surely find peace if his brief time with her were any indication.

Jonathan shuffled away shortly after to prepare food by the campfire.

Mercifully, they supped in silence since Keya’s mind felt raw, and her body drained. Little attention was paid to her surroundings as night came. She bored her gaze into the glowing embers, muddled and disquieting thoughts all the while dancing through her mind. An untold time later, she found herself in a luxuriously plush bedroll. Comfortably warm and dogged by exhaustion, sleep inexorably claimed her consciousness.