“Can’t say I’m happy to be back in this place…” Reyland grumbled under his breath, looking around at the pond and the treeline surrounding it. They were back at the waterfall, just feet away from the dissected corpse of the wolf-like beast from yesterday. It stunk heavily of wet dog mixed with the pungent odor of its innards, left out on the rocks.

The only difference from yesterday was that now, the young Norlander, Matthaeus, was tagging along with them.

Reyland couldn’t really figure out what to make of the kid yet. He was strangely quiet… Reyland hadn’t been around ten year olds much, but he could clearly remember him and his brothers being a lot rowdier when they were that age. Also, the way the kid just kind of stared at you while you were talking to him was a little off putting. His eyes being such an intense, red-tinged amber colour really didn’t help either.

But, other than a few odd quirks, the kid seemed nice enough, Reyland supposed. He was shy and stayed out of the way, and kept up with them surprisingly easily on the walk, despite the bandages and injuries.

Said Norlander was currently staring wide-eyed at the corpse of the Blighted wolf from the day before.

“Look familiar?” Griff asked him, speaking Arkasian, not the boy’s native language.

Still, he seemed to understand the question and nodded slowly, never peeling his eyes away from the beast. His face was expressionless, and the blankness behind the kid’s eyes was enough to make even Reyland feel uneasy.

“So the kid says he was chased by this thing? That’s what you were talking about earlier, right?” Reyland asked, poking the corpse with the tip of his sword.

“By a pack of them,” Griff corrected.

“That makes even less sense, then,” Reyland said, exasperated. “You saw how fast that thing was the other day. You mean to tell me a kid outran a whole pack of ‘em?”

Griff said nothing, his mouth set in a thin line and his brow furrowed.

“It appears that we’re missing at least part of this story, Reyland. Maybe even most of it. And with the boy’s memories being the way they are, it’s likely going to stay that way for some time.”

Reyland slid his shortsword back into its sheath with a sigh.

“What exactly did you bring us out here for, anyways?” He asked.

“I needed to confirm that this was the beast Matthaeus remembered chasing him, and also, to investigate a suspicion…”

Reyland and Matthaeus watched in confusion as Griff kneeled next to the pool running his hand through its crystal clear water. Neither of the boys could really understand what he was doing, and they shared a quizzical glance with each other before Griff finished, drying off his hands with his cloak.

“I want to take a look further upstream. Reyland, can you look for an easy way up the cliff face?”

“Err, sure thing mate, but what are we looking for?” Reyland asked, already scanning the cliff side for the best way up.

“Why do you think the townsfolk are sick?” Griff asked, taking a swig from his flask.

The apparent sudden change in topic was nearly enough to throw Reyland off, but after nearly a year of being apprenticed to Griffith, he had grown rather used to questions being answered with other questions. Griff liked to make him think, rather than just give him an answer.

“Well, Arthur said it isn’t any plague, right?” Reyland asked rhetorically as he ran his hands along the stony cliff face. “And honestly, I don’t know what else it could be. Its nothing like I ever saw back home, I know that much.”

“So what do you suspect it is?”

Reyland hopped up onto a stone, holding onto the trunk of a small tree for support. He had found a path that looked like it had been used by some sort of animals regularly, and could relatively easily take them to the top.

Swinging out lazily from the trunk by one arm, he smiled and shrugged.

“Don’t know. Hadn’t really given it any thought after that,” he said unapologetically.

Griff pinched the bridge of his nose, and barely, barely suppressed a sigh.

“We are in fact here to help these people, Reyland.”

The bronze haired boy shrugged again.

“I’ve trained to protect people from monsters, not whatever kinda thing that is,” he said, gesturing back towards the town. “I’ll do my best to help out with tending to the sick, but actually figuring out what’s wrong with them? That’s beyond me. I’m not smart enough to figure all that stuff out, but I’m not stupid enough to think that I can, either. I know my place, that’s all.”

Griff eyed him intensely, as his apprentice began deftly scampering up the cliff side with ease.

“...The kid’s growing up after all,” he muttered to himself.

Matthaeus was standing beside Griff now, watching with curious, wide eyes. All of the previous conversation had been beyond his grasp of Arkasian, and he was patiently waiting off to the side.

“Can you still walk?” Griff asked the young boy.

“Yes.”

“Can you climb?”

“...Yes.”

“Good. Follow, carefully.”

Griff made sure the boy was going up ahead of him, to be there to catch him if the boy’s strength began to fail or he slipped. He was surprised though, when Matthaeus began climbing up. The boy was unsteady at first, the bandages around his knees not used to stretching that much, but as they loosened, he quickly gained speed. The cliff wasn’t very steep, so it was halfway between climbing and walking, but even still, Matthaeus’ pace was fast.

Amusingly, Matthaeus seemed to be trying to match Reyland’s effortless climb, although nowhere near as fast. Griff actually smiled a little as he realised that, although luckily he was in the back where no one could see it.

From the top of the cliff, the trio continued following the river upstream. The woods was thick here, and it was almost impossible to see very far ahead, so Griff took the lead again, hacking his way ahead with his oversized knife.

“Almost reminds me of the swamps back home,” Reyland remarked, although only Matthaeus could hear him. The boy cocked his head to the side, staring straight at Reyland, expressionless.

“Didn’t really expect to see woods this thick this far north, really. This is darn near jungle, except cold. Not a pleasant place to be, you know?” He continued, knowing that the kid couldn’t understand a word of what he was saying.

“...Cyold?” The boy said quietly.

It took Reyland a moment to realise what the kid had said.

“Cold? Like, when the winter comes? Brrrr?” He said, hugging his arms tight and faking a shiver at the end.

“...Cyold.”

“No, cold. It’s pronounced cold.”

The boy’s accent was adding a pronounced y sound near the start, which seemed to frustrate him. It was the first time Reyland had really seen emotion on the kid’s face, and he smiled down at him while Matthaeus rolled the word around a few times.

“Cyold. Cy-old. Cyould. C-cold. Cold!” The boy shouted when he finally got it, although his voice was so quiet naturally it barely reached a normal talking volume.

Reyland laughed loudly, beaming down at the kid.

“Yep, cold,” he said, rubbing his arms against the cold. Matthaeus’ pronunciation was still far from perfect, but it was close enough that any native Arkasian would understand him.

“Having fun?” Griff interrupted from up ahead, and they both halted as they realised Griff had stopped moving and was now facing them.

“Ah, we were just-”

“Hush,” Griff whispered, gesturing for them to be quiet.

Recognizing the alert posture of his mentor, Reyland instantly dropped the smile from his face. His hand was resting on the handle of his blade a moment later, and his posture changed just as abruptly.

To Matthaeus, it was a change as clear as night and day. The smiling young adult from before was gone in a heartbeat. The kind, playful twinkle in his golden eyes had shifted into a dangerous glint, and Matthaeus was taken aback by it all. He hadn’t forgotten his initial impression of the two men, that they were dangerous people, but seeing them shift so suddenly was still a shock.

“Is there something ahead?” Reyland whispered, eyes already watching the woods in every which way.

“...”

“...you said Matthaeus was chased by a pack of those wolves, right?” He asked again, as his heart began beating faster.

Griff’s hand slowly rose over his shoulder, and pulled the sheathed greatsword off.

“I don’t think they’re here,” Griff said finally, although his voice as well was barely above a gruff whisper.

“Then why are we stopped?”

“...Intuition.”

Reyland took that answer to heart. If there was one thing he had learned over his apprenticeship with Griff… it was to listen to your gut feeling. Even when it didn’t make sense, it was usually correct. And failing that, always better safe than sorry.

It helped that in all the time he had known him, Griff’s ‘intuition’ had never been wrong even once.

With a wave, Griff crouched low to the ground, and began sneaking his way through the underbrush. Reyland turned to the wide eyed Matthaeus, and held a finger up over his lips, the universal signal for hush, and then followed, as low and quiet as he could.

Neither Griff or Reyland even entertained the thought of leaving the boy behind. He would be safer with them than left on his own, this far out from town.

Matthaeus surprised them again, though, when neither of them could hear the boy walk. He was so thin, so underweight, that most branches didn’t even crack when he stepped on them. The boy stalked alongside Reyland, crouching as well even though he was already so much shorter than them.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Reyland’s heart was the loudest thing in his ears. It pumped heavily, as every nerve in his body sat on edge.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight out. He didn’t know what was ahead, and that was what scared him.

Ba-dump. Ba-dump.

Ahead, Griff stopped abruptly, and so did the others. He seemed frozen, like time had stopped in that one tiny part of the world.

No one dared speak, not even to ask Griff what he had seen.

Slowly, Griff raised his hand, and waved them over. They crawled as slowly and as quietly as they could, until they reached him, where they too froze.

“...that isn’t…” Reyland whispered, eyes frozen wide open in shock.

Griff said nothing, but Reyland had never seen his lips pressed so tight together, or his brow so furrowed. It scared Reyland even more to see his normally stoic mentor looking so worried.

In front of them was a small opening, a clearing in the underbrush that lead out to a more open forest. And in the center of that clearing… was a tree.

A tree that was black, from the roots that poked out of the ground to the tips of its leaves. It looked almost like it had been burnt, only it was clearly as healthy as could be. Every leaf in its branches fluttered in the gentle wind, and Reyland had the sinking, sickening feeling that somehow, the tree was excited.

“...We’ve reached the Blight,” Griff muttered.

Somewhere, far off in the distance, the haunting call of a wolf pierced the air.