At last, the trees had covered Hector and Joanna from all sides. For two days they had run, and though they took many rests for Joanna’s sake, their feet had put many miles behind. Since dawn broke on the second day and the green line emerged from the skyline, they had made haste across the last of the rocky terrain and at noon were completely sheltered by the forest.

As he rested his feet and back on a thick trunk, Hector could finally loose his nerves for the first time since that night. All about him, cool shade covered the ground. Here and there, spots of light escaped through thin openings and basked the ground with mid-noon sunlight. So did the pleasant sound of the river coming from afar and washed on the tired souls some relaxation.

Joanna wasn’t so relaxed, however. She was still highly alerted. To the vast green and the small critters moving about with their business, she gave them looks of wonder. Yet she had been easily startled; sudden cracks of high branches, sighs of the wind in the swaying trees, even butterflies put frights in her eyes. And most of all, she was wary of Hector. When they walked, she followed behind, but as soon their feet rest, she put a distance between them. Rarely had she spoken long, saved for the one time when she recounted the story of her little sister’s last moment under the mountain. Since then she had muttered only simple words. Mostly she nodded and shook her head.

Suddenly Hector cursed. His eyes awaked from the peaceful rest. Try as he might, he could not approach the spirits. He prayed to the winds, closed his eyes and communicated in whistling languages. The only answer he got was the swaying of high branches. He felt like a stranger in his own home. Once, the wind brought him all news of places they had passed. He used to be able to smell, to hear of animals and lurking creatures in nature with the aid of the wind. Now they ignored him, stayed away as if worse than a stranger, he was an enemy.

He could not use ranger magic anymore. For so long he had relied on the spirits as keen allies. Dreads settled in as if before him a friend had vanished. He tried again and again, all failed. There was now desperation in his prayers. They grew frantic. But unanswered they remained.

At length, he was forced to return to reality. It seemed from now on he would have to rely on his experience in the wilds alone. At the very least, few men in Stoneheight could match him in the wild. But soon they would have to leave this green shelter.

Tense muscles cracked when he sat up and looked for Joanna. She was sitting on a fallen tree and in her hand was a fresh wild fruit. Pressing time and hurried steps had not spared him time to hunt proper meals. Instead, they had had to settle with fruits picked on the way. It was a small blessing his knowledge of flora and fauna had not been spirited away like his magic.

From his makeshift sack made from a ripped part of his cloak, Hector produced another wild fruit for his own meal. His voice was hoarse from long silence, but he said to the girl in the gentlest tone he could muster: “For a while more, we should be safe within this forest. But we cannot stay here forever. Do you have anywhere you can go?”

Joanna raised her head, startled. Then she saw that Hector was the one speaking, so she lowered it again and after a brief considering, spoke to the fruit in her hands: “There’s a settlement of our people to the north, under a cave outside of a city. We… I was told to go there.”

A settlement, not a den like the knights would call it.

“A city to the north? Ferrnolas it must be,” Hector frowned, “but so close to the army and there it remains a secret. How, I wonder? Do you remember the way?”

“No,” she said and shook her head slightly, “I’ve never been there.”

“We will figure it out when the time comes,” said Hector and bit a piece of the fruit. Sweet water filled his mouth. He was glad. At least all hope was not lost. He had feared the girl had nowhere to go. Judging the way she carried herself without confidence and too much self-conscious in every move, he guessed that she was a sheltered child. Slender of limbs and pale of face, not used to hard works. Even worse than noble kids who could roam the street with guardians, she probably had never left the mountain. All the threats in the world are too great for a cambion to ever know of freedom outside of her hiding caves.

“I know the way to Ferrnolas,” he said, “many days of walking it will be. But with me, you shall be safe. Then if we could find your people, I shall be glad to entrust you to them.”

Suddenly, Joanna raised her head again. But now a glare was in her eyes. And she spoke with edges, “so you are going to abandon me? To my own?”

The glare stung him. But he returned it with a sigh simply. “The knights must know by now it was I who killed those two. They would hunt me, and me alone. They do not know about you. Better you stay with your people and I be on my way.”

Again she gazed at the fruit in her hands. She seemed to be thinking over his words. But she argued no more.

With that, the short conversation ended. The two rested for some more and finished the fruits, then be on their way again.

The route through the forest proved a greater challenge for Joanna than the one out under the blue sky. But away from the pursuer’s reach for now, they could afford to move at a slower pace. The course Hector chose was not for normal human to tread: it leads through many creaks, dense bushes and sudden downwards then upwards slope. Anyone stalking them through the forest would not be able to find any consistent trace of theirs. The deeper they get to the heart of the forest, the more Hector was certain no one could follow after them. Joanna did not so much move as being carried. She could not challenge most parts of the forest except very flat grounds, and Hector had to lift her up, carry her in his arms or on his back. And soon they were tired and darkness was growing about them. The dusk came sooner to the world under trees than outside. So he supposed that it wasn’t so late yet. He began to look for a resting place.

Then they came to a small clearing where lay a large boulder as big as a house but sloped on one side to the north. It was big enough that straight up from its place one could see a small part of the sky. To Hector surprise, night had already fallen in the outside world, not just under the trees. He was able to see in the dark alright even in the evening, thanks to bright Moons, or perhaps it was his vision in the dark that was enhanced. But the thought didn’t trouble him for long. According to the stars, they had strayed slightly west, but far to the north, they must have come.

They made camp under the south side of the boulder, between it and the edge of the trees. Hector spread the sack on the ground, revealing an assortment of wild fruits. They had replenished their food stock plenty along the way. Among them were fruits which provide plenty of sugar and energy for long marches, and easy to digest. But Hector took for himself some brown and green leaves. Those were the chickweeds and fleaworts he had picked before they entered the forest. Joanna hated them for their bitterness. But when foods are scarce, they are preferable to dry roots.

As he chewed the bitter leaves in his mouth, Hector watched Joanna took for herself a couple of fruits then retreated to the edge of the boulder. Turned to the starry sky above, Hector thought of the coming times. What then, after he had delivered the girl to her people? He would rather not live alongside demons and cambions, those he had dedicated his early days to slay. Perhaps he could pick a remote town by the borders and live there quietly. Build a small house, make a small garden, away from curious eyes He could live in the wild just fine, once in the past he had spent months roaming deep among the mountains. It would be lonesome. How lonesome it would be indeed! Away from people is one thing, but now being deprived of a ranger’s ability to speak and pray, he could not communicate with nature anymore. By himself, he would be, and by his side lifeless nature.

Perhaps, if he could be wishful, years from now, when the traitor’s image had faded from the knights’ memories, he might live again among people in civilization. Right when the thought started giving him hope, he suddenly remembered that night, and about the strange things in the dark. He was changed, though to what he did not know. The girl had done something to him that his lethal wounds were healed as if mere scratches. He wondered if it was possible for him ever to live among human again.

How about crossing the border then? There are countries that give less care for one’s background. Or to the barren land he could go. It would be a dreadful adventure indeed. But also a curious one.

And so thoughts swirled in his mind, and all futures seemed to blend together. All possibilities, all lost past, all burned bridges. He felt like a stranger. Those were the thoughts of an outlaw, an outsider. Not him, he was supposed to live a life of honor. With friends he could come back to. And a family, his parents, his dear siblings. What were they thinking about now? How did they react when they heard the news? He drifted off into tired sleep.

The peace of night under bright moonlights. A moment of rest, of worries, forgotten. The stars shone bright and the Moons floated about the sky in their eternal dance. All of them lulled his tired eyes and entered his dream.

In the middle of the night, he jolted awake.

His heart was beating hard and cold sweat ran down his back. He peered into the darkness among the trees close to the edge of the clearing, but he could see nought. As quietly as he could, Hector crawled to Joanna. She was sleeping soundly, but her breath was heavy and her eyeballs moved rapidly under their lids. He shook her from her sleep.

She startled, and stared at him for a good while in terror. But then she too realized something was off, so she sat up and fixed her eyes in the dark woods. The distant sound of leaves being crunched under feet.

Hector placed his hand on his sword hilt. He controlled his breath and made it quiet, but he could do nothing to silent his hammering heart. Beside him, Joanna tensed up and pressed her back against the boulder. Her fear was heightened by his alertness.

For sometimes all things went quiet again. Too quiet. As if the forest had died. The insects were gone and the trees stood as still as they could. No wind either.

Then leaves crunching sounds reached their spot again. This time, there were more and more. The sound doubled, multiplied, until it sounded as if a legion was marching through. Then when they, whatever they were, grew closer, the two people in the clearing can hear the branched breaking and falling. And soon they saw the first pair of scarlet eyes.

The thin-bladed sword slid from its sheath easily. Hector rose, he stood in front of Joanna a few steps.

Now they came. There were many of them, tens, dozens of demons. They appeared in full behind the tree, standing as high as a human. And their appearance was like that of men, only they had scarlet eyes; their bodies were ragged after moving through trees and bushed uncaring for their flesh. But they didn’t seem like corpses, for in them vigor filled, and they were not famished but instead were in their prime form: strong, fast, keen and eager to kill.

They moved side by side into the clearing. Their claws and fangs bared readily.

The moment the nearest was within range, Hector raised his sword, and struck down.

“Stop!”

His hand froze midair. He could not move an inch but to retreat his blow.

“Why so?” he asked but already knew the answer.

Joanna stared wildly at him from behind, but she spoke nothing more. From both of his sides and front, the demon closed in. It was clear that they didn’t care to approach Joanna, instead they spare her but a glance and surrounded Hector. Under the light of the Low Moon, their scarlet eyes glowed menacingly, and they fixed on him with hatred.

“Drop your weapon,” said Joanna, her eyes too were glowing.

“And have myself killed?” cried Hector, “these things cannot guide you to Ferrnolas!”

Then despite himself, Hector gripped the hilt with all his strength against a supernatural force trying to loose his fingers.

“I command you to drop that sword,” said Joanna again. This time her voice carried real authority.

So the sword fell to the ground. And Hector stood there, surrounded by the enemy, defenceless.