“Wake up.”

The words were accompanied by a shake of his shoulder. Gase opened his eyes. It felt like he had barely closed them.

“We’re moving again,” Enmon said beside him.

Gase looked around and saw that it was indeed the case. Already a line of people was crossing the stream, those in front disappearing as the path wound through the trees on the opposite bank.

He sighed and stood up with a groan. The nap seemed to have only reaffirmed his body’s need for rest. He legs felt weak, and his back and arms were sore.

“Some of the scouts returned a while ago,” Enmon continued. “I wasn’t there, but word is that they found the rest of those who fled the city. They set up camp somewhere ahead.”

Gase picked up his sword and saw the small boy sitting nearby, his back against a tree. He called out to him, then moved over when he didn’t respond. The boy startled when Gase tapped him on the shoulder.

“Easy,” he said gently. “Come on, we are going.”

Gase looked towards the camp of the red-eyed huntsmen, but he saw only the circle of stones which previously contained the fire. He put them from his mind as he and the boy joined Enmon. Together they followed the rest of the trailing crowd.

After walking a bit, the trek became easier. The short rest and the water to quench their thirst had helped, but it also seemed to have reminded everyone of where they were. Heads turned towards every sound of the forest. Every birdcall or rustling of undergrowth had someone jumping. People huddled closer together, drifting into groups as they walked. At least the cityguard and teams of hunters walking with them provided some ease of mind.

Gase looked around at the massive trees surrounding them as they walked. The tall, twisting spires reached up into the sky, competing for light and casting most of the path in shadow. Through the gaps in the canopy, Gase caught glimpses of the sun as it trailed across the sky, mostly sticking to their right as they travelled further east.

The land seemed wilder here. Even the path they were on was only such in the broadest of terms. Much of the dirt road was covered in grass, vines and small shrubs. As he looked deeper into the forest, he couldn’t help but wonder what lurked there, out of sight.

“I’m hungry,” he heard a voice say.

He traced the sound to a young girl of perhaps thirteen terms tugging at the dress of a woman. Next to them walked a man in sturdy leather clothes.

The mother, he assumed she was, pulled out a wrapped package from the bag hanging over her back. The smell of cooked meat reached him as she unwrapped the package. His stomach growled, reminding him of his last meal, the breakfast he had had at the inn, the day before.

He wasn’t the only one who showed such a reaction as the aroma drew the gazes of many. The man leaned over to the woman and whispered something to her. She quickly broke off a piece of what looked like some kind of pie. She handed it to the girl before stuffing the rest back into the bag.

“That’s gonna be a problem,” Enmon muttered to his side.

Gase looked over at him, and Enmon met his gaze.

“How many people here do you think brought food?” Enmon asked. A hint of derision leaked into his voice. “No, I reckon most thought to bring their valuables. Perhaps that fine coat that sits in their clothes chest for most of the term, or that fancy set of steel cutlery they use to impress the neighbours.”

He might be on to something there, Gase realised. For someone like Enmon and Y’rid, few things were as valuable as food, and most other things were just a means to get that food. But for someone who rarely had to worry about what they were going to eat that day?

The horde had struck quickly, and only the most prudent of people would have started preparing when the city’s siren sounded the first time. Would the baker or butcher have stuffed a backpack full of bread or meat when the horde broke through, or would they have run to their rooms and grabbed all the things they had spent their lives collecting?

And that’s the ones who took the time to grab anything at all. Many people here only had the clothes on their back.

Gase thought back to the maps he had studied at the scrollhouse. Unless he was mistaken, the nearest city to the east of Riversedge was Lok. Would they make it? There were quite a few hunters, and while they might not be able to feed everyone, maybe they could get enough game to keep them going. Though, without enough food, their pace would slow, and who knew how long they had until the horde caught up with them.

“We’ll just have to get to Lok before then,” he said out loud.

“Lok?” Enmon asked. “That where we’re going?”

“I think so. I saw a map that showed it being east of Riversedge. I’m not sure how far it is though. Do you know anything?”

Enmon shook his head. “Heard it’s a big city, but that’s about it.”

“Well, hopefully, it won’t be long.”

“I’m afraid it will, young man,” A voice said gravely.

Gase looked over and saw an old man, leaning on a walking stick as he plodded along. His thinning hair was streaked with white and stuck to his head, damp with sweat.

“Lok’s about a cycle’s fourth of travel from Riversedge,” the old man spoke, apparently having overheard their conversation.

The moon’s cycle was forty days, so a forth was ten. Gase grimaced. If that was the case, then hopefully the horde wouldn’t follow them.

“How do you know old-timer?” Enmon asked.

“I made the journey myself a few times, back when I was younger, of course,” The man said and held out a hand. “Calin.”

“Y’rid,” Gase replied and shook the man’s hand. “This is Enmon and…”

He trailed off as he looked at the boy. He had not spoken a word since last night, but Gase didn’t want to push him.

Calin picked up on the tension and quickly glossed over the subject. “A pleasure to meet you, though it might have been under better circumstances. What your friend said is worrying, but I suggest we hold off on our judgement for the moment. We are going to meet the others who made it, are we not? It won’t help to speculate without knowing what we have yet. Instead let us turn our attention to more pleasant subjects, yes?”

The man seemed to take their silence for agreement as he sprung off into conversation, his words and thoughts drifting as they saw fit.

Calin liked to talk, Gase promptly learned. He was a cobbler and cordwainer, and a good one, if he had anything to say about it. Gase soon knew more about shoes and boots than he ever wanted to. It was all about the inner lining and the stitching as Calin told him.

The old man also spoke of Lok. About how its massive walls would make those of Riversedge look like a fence, and how every part of the ancient city was seeped in history. He had made the journey often when he started out in his profession, although always as part of a merchants convoy.

Apparently, Lok served as a trading hub from cities farther to the north and south. To Calin, this meant that there was good coin to be made by bringing new styles of footwear back to the more isolated nobles of Riversedge. It was his willingness to risk the journey that set him apart from most.

And risks there were. From beast attacks where he was forced to pick up the spear, to bandits that he had to singlehandedly charm to secure the passage of the convoy.

Gase had no doubt that his stories were liberally coloured with imagination and exaggeration. He didn’t mind though, the old man had a way with words, and the conversation was a welcome distraction from the soreness of his legs and the growing hunger in his gut. He suspected that to be the main reason why Calin spoke so much in the first place.

The sky was lit up in the bright orange of the setting sun when their destination finally came into sight. The road gently sloped down towards a clearing along the bank of a river where the camp was made. The area was buzzing with activity. People were moving to the new arrivals, some joyous in reuniting with others they knew, some frantically looking at their faces, distraught at not finding who they searched for. Others still didn’t bother to get up from where they were sitting in small groups with sombre expressions.

There were also armed guards, mercenaries and hunters, but Gase’s eyes were immediately drawn to the black armoured knights among them. He scanned over the area and found what he was looking for on the far side of the clearing, near the riverbank.

There stood a large number of carriages, wagons and caravans, with a few campfires already burning among them.

A trio of lavish carriages stood out from the rest with a few more of the Blackguard stationed around them. Next to them was an orderly line of tents, presumably belonging to the knights, with a team of d’yari grazing nearby.

It wasn’t a surprise that the citylord and his retinue had made it, but Gase couldn’t help but be reminded of their actions during the attack. He shook his head, there wasn’t anything to do about it now.

He continued scanning the clearing. An order seemed to have been established in the camp. With the citylord’s retinue and some of the more ornate carriages further upstream, away from where they had entered the clearing. Some of these, like that of the citylord, was guarded by uniformed men and women.

The simpler looking caravans and wagons stood further into the camp. Those that were guarded were done so by warriors wearing a mixture of different armours. Merchants and mercenaries, if he had to wager.

Finally, there were the civilians filling up most of the space. Overall, he judged there to be around three thousand people, counting their own group as well.

“Less than I had hoped,” Calin spoke beside him. He looked over the camp with sadness before his eyes suddenly lit up.

“Etha!” He said and quickly moved towards a woman watching the newcomers.

Gase watched as reached the younger woman and embraced her as she began sobbing. Now wanting to intrude, Gase turned to Enmon and the boy.

“Shall we find a place to set down?”

Enmon looked at him and nodded. They quickly found a place near the edge of the camp next to the river. Though one patch of dirt was as good as the next, if he were honest.

According to what Calin had said, the path to Lok crossed various streams, small rivers and creeks that ran through the forest. Most of these fed into the Joven, the massive river that ran past Riversedge.

The winding nature of the road lengthened the travel time somewhat, but most thought it better than having to carry barrels of water with you when making the trip. A sentiment Gase wholeheartedly agreed with. At least it was one less thing to worry about.

The ground was hard and evening breeze was cold as it blew over the water but, under the circumstances, it was all he could hope for. Given more time, they might have been able to find some firewood in the surrounding area to warm them up, but the sun was giving out its last light, and he was tired.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gase saw the boy looking at the sword by his side. He glanced over and heard the boy’s stomach growl. It reminded him of his own hunger. They would need something to keep up their strength if they were going to continue tomorrow.

He picked himself up and moved over to the boy.

“Hey,” He said. “What is your name?”

The boy looked down at the ground in front of him. A few moments of silence passed.

“Hadi,” The boy spoke softly.

“Hadi? It’s a good name. A strong name.” – Gase said and laid the sword in front of him. – “Well Hadi, how about you keep an eye on this while I get the three of us some food. Think you can do that for me?”

The boy didn’t look up but gave a barely perceptible nod. Gase smiled and moved over to Enmon.

“Keep an eye on him for me, while I see what I can find,” he said, keeping his voice low.

“What’s with the kid anyway?” Enmon asked.

Gase sighed. “His people… they didn’t make it.”

“I guessed, but why are you taking care of him?”

Gase thought a moment about how to answer the question. Enmon and Y’rid both grew up mostly on the streets, even if Y’rid was a bit older than Hadi after he left the temple. They had to survive on their own, like many others. Like the boy would, if Gase left him.

No, Hadi had become his responsibility when he had pulled the boy away from what was undoubtedly his father’s corpse. He couldn’t do anything for Y’rid, the man who had inadvertently given up his life for him, but he could make sure Hadi didn’t suffer the same fate.

Gase barely stopped a rueful laugh from escaping his lips. He was still wrapping his mind around his current situation, and now he had to look after someone else. Yet, despite it all, he couldn’t bring himself to regret saving the boy. If he could go back, he would still do the same.

“Enough harm has been caused by the beasts already,” he said eventually as he looked over the crowd. “Feels wrong to not do anything.”

Enmon eyed him sceptically. “More ‘harm’ is going to come. Did you notice the people here?”

Gase nodded. It seems the group they had come with had a disproportionate number of combatants and hunters. It made sense since a lot of them came from the defence of the wall. Compared to that, the people here were mostly civilians. There was no way those who could hunt for food would be able to provide for them all.

“I still have most of the coin I got from the mage,” Gase said. “I’m sure I’ll be able to get something.”

Enmon’s gaze softened, and he nodded. “I’ll look after the kid.”

Gase returned the nod and set out for the campfires that were scattered throughout the clearing.

He quickly learned that many others had the same idea as him, and had beaten him to it. Those who had extra had already sold it to the highest bidder. And, given the number of nobles, merchants and other well-off people here, the highest bid was staggering.

He had almost given up hope when he finally came across a group that still had something left to give. That’s how he found himself in front of a firepit with two lizards skewered on a green branch over a bed of coals. The lizards had twin tails and were about the size of his arm with there heads and legs removed. About as thick too.

The aroma made his mouth water. Unfortunately, the lizards weren’t the meal in question, but the thin soup that slowly bubbled at the side in an iron pot. The leftover heads and legs mixed with some roots and mushrooms.

Around the fire sat five mercenaries. At least, he assumed them to be such, given the identical armbands they all wore with some kind of symbol on it. It didn’t seem like something a hunting team would wear, and their armour was too mismatched to be uniforms.

“Six silver,” The man with the pipe in his mouth said as he puffed out a cloud of sweet-smelling smoke. “That soup is tomorrow’s breakfast. None of my other companions here is keen on going without breakfast, but I can… for six silver. And before you think about trying to haggle, the answer is no.”

Six silver. Only a day ago he paid half a silver for a full meal and a mug of ale. Gase felt his irritation rise.

“Fine,” he forced the word out and handed over the coins glittering in the firelight.

The man grinned and took the coins. He picked up a wooden bowl and scooped it full out of the pot. “Eat quickly, I want this bowl back.”

“I got people to share with, you’ll get your bowl afterwards,” Gase said.

The man held his gaze for a moment before he grunted and handed over the soup. “Make sure that I do. I won’t be happy if I have to come and get it.”

Gase turned and walked away. After all the shit that happened, people were still trying to take advantage of the situation. A sigh escaped his lips. He couldn’t really blame them though, as he ignored few looks of envy from some of the people he passed. Everyone was looking out for themselves.

Six silver might be a step away from robbery, but the price was only going to go up. Today many were still unwilling to spend that kind of coin, but what about tomorrow, after hunger sapped their strength and weakened their will? And what will happen for those who can’t, when they are faced with starvation?

After he walked back, he split the soup with Enmon and Hadi. It wasn’t nearly enough to sate his hunger, but it was something.

He returned the bowl afterwards, as he said he would. When he came back, Enmon was already asleep. Gase laid down and closed his eyes. Exhaustion seemed stronger than worry as it didn’t take long before the world faded into darkness.

He reached out and ran his fingers through the thick coat of the hound. It turned to him and licked its tongue across his face. He laughed and tried to keep the dog at bay.

“You’ve always liked dogs,” Came a deep voice behind him. He looked up grinningly at his father.

“You know,” his father continued, stroking his beard. “A houndmaster is a good profession.”

His father looked past him at old Hano, the master of the kennels. “Weren’t you looking for an apprentice, Hano?”

“No!” Gase shouted. “I want to be a guard like you!”

His father looked down at him in surprise before a smile broke his features. His voice was smug as he spoke. “Ho ho, seems someone is taking after their old man.”

Gase saw old Hano roll his eyes, but his focus was on his father as the big man knelt in front of him. Large and callused hands took of his own, covering them completely.

“What is a guard, boy?” The question was asked in a deadly serious voice.

“Someone who protects the town,” He said, then quickly added when his father didn’t look satisfied. “And fights bandits!”

“Hmm,” His father mused. “Everyone wants to protect those they care about. But we have to do more than that. We have to face things so that others never have to. Ideally, they would never even know that we did.

You won’t find praise here, boy. Don’t think you’ll be beating back brigands for cheering crowds. Not if you do your job right. You’ll fight for the people, but few will thank you or even know what to thank you for. But that won’t mean there isn’t work to be done. You’ll have to be strong. You’ll have to stare fear down and do what needs to be done.”

“I can do it,” Gase said, determined. He wasn’t entirely sure what his father meant, but he would be strong.

“Show me.”

His father’s grip tightened on his hands. He stared into Gase’s eyes, all joy seeming to have left his face. The air around them seemed to cool as his father’s expression darkened. Without thinking, Gase tried to pull away but his grip was like iron, cold and unyielding.

Gase felt his stomach begin to sink, and his legs weaken. He chest seemed to tighten as the apparition that had stolen his father’s form bore into him with a razor-like glare.

‘No,’ he thought. He said he would be strong. He clenched his teeth and straightened his back, staring into those dark eyes.

Suddenly the pressure seemed to lessen. Gase saw the corner of his father’s mouth tug upwards, before he tried to flatten it out again. He overcorrected, turning it into a pout. A laugh seemed to bubble up before it was crushed into a strange snort. Finally, he couldn’t hold it anymore and burst out laughing. He pulled Gase close and ruffled his hair.

“That’s my boy,” He said. “what do you think, Hano?”

“Like father, like son.”

Gase pulled away. “So, you will teach me how to fight?”

He father looked at him with a smile. “About time. I learned when I was your age, you know? Well… maybe a little older but it hardly matters.”

“Yes!” Gase cheered as his heart pounded in excitement. His brother is going to be so jealous. He couldn’t wait to share the news with him and his mother.

“I’m going to tell the others!” He shouted and turned on his heel.

He and barely taken a single step before a hand tugged him back by his shirt.

“Woah there!” His father said.

Gase turned back and saw his father looking more uncertain than he had ever seen.

“Let’s, uh, let’s… Let’s not tell your mother about you becoming a guard just yet, alright? We’ll keep this between the two of us.”

Gase was confused for a moment before an idea occurred to him, and he quickly nodded. “Ok! It can be a surprise!”

“…Yeah,” his father said hesitantly. “Who doesn’t like surprises?”

Gase heard old Hano snicker form the side. His father rounded on the man, pointing a threatening finger in his direction. “That goes for you too.”

Old Hano threw his hands into the air. “My lips are sealed, captain.”

Gase’s eyes snapped open to the night sky. He sat up and glanced around. Then he remembered where he was as he saw the camp. Most of the campfires had died down to embers, leaving the clearing shrouded in darkness. Only a few at the border still burned. He could hear a few people moving about further away, but most were asleep.

Releasing a breath, he laid back down and stared up at the moon and stars poking out from behind thick clouds. After a while, he heard Hadi stir in the darkness. It was soon followed by muffled crying.

Gase kept quiet as he listened to the boy, each sniffle causing his chest to tighten just a bit. There was nothing he could do, other than leave the boy to his mourning.

He thought back to the dream he just had. Or memory, he still wasn’t quite sure, but it had certainly felt real.

‘We face things so that others never have to’, huh?

Staring up at the sky, Gase realised something. He really hated those fucking beasts.