There was only the path. Winding gently through barren hills, darker grey snaking through lighter grey. Gnarled roots clawed up from beneath worn cobblestones, reaching for Fir’s bare feet in a spasmodic yet ultimately fruitless exercise. A miasma of pain unspoken, an Unquiet, reached for her with those roots. Blind fingers straining for something beyond, something unreachable.

Palelight bathed the path ahead in something not quite light, but less dark than the darkness that surrounded it. It did not bleed into the bleakness, restrained by unseen hands. Fir did not stop to rest in the Palelight; she didn’t feel the small warmth it brought. She didn’t feel anything.

She left the patch of Palelight behind. It was just one more thing left behind. Fir didn’t dwell on it, but that usual feeling of emptiness lurked in the back of her mind. Emptiness reflected by the endless hills and vast, vast night, which was not quite night. After all, that was why she was here.

With the Palelight gone, the aching feel of cold beyond cold returned to her, seeping through Fir’s gown with ease. She didn’t shiver now; she was beyond that. On the horizon, she could see another spot of Palelight. It wasn’t the sun. She had to remember that. Sunlight was only a distant memory, but that didn’t prevent a sliver of hope from stabbing at Fir’s heart. Some things couldn’t be blocked out, often mundane things which left her bemused.

Time passed, or was that only her imagination? Warmth, then cold. Grey, then back to black. Fir stumbled onwards, half expecting to see bloodied footprints behind her, when the Palelight granted her sight, but then shaking her head when she remembered. Such things were of no concern now. There was only the path.