While it had continued to drizzle slightly overnight, the next day dawned clear. Despite clinging to her shoulder all the last day, the squirrel was gone when Cassie woke. She stood by her fire for a while to try to dry herself in the dying embers, then buried the fire in the damp earth and headed in the direction Angus pointed out for her. She had been walking all morning before she stumbled onto a bed of grey stones. At first she wondered if it was a dried river bed, before noticing the stones were rectangular. Tree roots had pushed them up in irregular pattens, the exposed corners worn smooth. She couldn't see any signs of the remains of walls, just a long straight stretch of stones. They felt slick with the rain from the night before and soft with moss under her feet.

"We are going the right way," Angus said.

"Is this ruined house a landmark you know, then?"

"A house?" Angus sounded surprised. "It's part of a Penny Road."

"What's a Penny Road?"

"Roads put down by Penny, the god of roads and commerce," Angus said. "They used to connect all the villages together in a great web. Cars could go down them, and getting from village to village could take less than a day."

"What happened to them?"

"People don't know that these days? I guess it was long ago. After Bounty fell asleep, Penny decided to build a city by the sea, where it is harder for the forest to encroach. It was a jewel filled with the best and worst of humankind. Then one day there was a terrible earthquake, and it all fell into the sea. Penny was devastated. She built a great ship and gathered her bravest followers, and sailed away. She hasn't been seen since, so perhaps her ship wrecked out to sea. Maybe one day she will come back, on a ship filled with treasures from another land. We'll just have to wait and see."

"I suppose," Cassie said. "So if I follow where this stretch of stones point, I will reach a village?"

"If the village is still where it used to be, yes," Angus said. Cassie walked to the middle of the stone path, where it sagged a little. She stood to one side of the long puddle that still lay in the centre from the last day's rain, and walked forward. For some reason, she felt light of heart. The stones sang of riches and adventure, and Cassie straightened, walking tall. She opened her mouth to sing--and the little stretch of remaining road ended. She stumbled into the cool darkness of the forest again. Her spirits lowered as she trudged on through the slippery leaf litter and clinging bracken.

"Careful," Angus warned. "Don't take it too hard. The artefacts of the gods can be powerful things. People used to get addicted to the roads, in the old days."

Cassie tried to look on the bright side. Though the day was cold, the late autumn sun shone through the bare branches of the deciduous trees that made up a decent amount of the forest's upper storey. She may be hungry, and tired, without even a waterskin to sustain her between puddles of rainwater, but look! Some wild watercress! She stripped the leaves of the plants as she passed, and put them in her pocket. She frowned, and pulled out an acorn.

"I don't know whether the squirrel left that there for you or himself," Angus said. "Either way he'll have a hard time finding it again later."

Cassie continued to walk for much of the day without incident, though multiple times Angus warned her that she was veering off course and had to correct her heading. Eventually the woodland became more cleared, a sign of use for firewood and foraging. Cassie got lucky and cut onto a trail kept for taking wagons in to carry firewood. Her own village had one, but it was pretty much gone back to the forest. This village did not, evidently, have an unusually strong witch in charge of wood collecting, because this trail was well maintained. Cassie walked along the trail for a while, until she heard whistling ahead. Suddenly realising that a tattered, blood-stained appearance may not give a very good first impression, she clambered up a tree to see what this villager was like. He came into view, a young man leading a donkey with a little card. He looked friendly--

"Small feet, too," Angus observed approvingly. "That knife looks well made. Pity about the lack of kettle."

"We're not going to rob the poor man," Cassie hissed, then called out. "Hello!"

The young man stopped, confused, then stared as Cassie climbed down the tree.

"Hello?" he said hesitantly. Cassie gave him a smile.

"Very good to see a friendly face," she said. "I'm Cassie." She stuck out a somewhat grimy hand.

"No wait--oh, never mind," Angus said sadly. The man took Cassie's hand hesitantly.

"Are you a witch, ma'am?" he asked politely.

"N--yes," Cassie said.

"You had better be careful, then."

"Are the cultists about?"

"Oh, you have already--no, ma'am, they left weeks ago. They caught and killed our witch, though."

"I am sorry for your loss," Cassie offered.

"Thank you, ma'am. You look like you have travelled aways."

"Yes. The cultists came to my village, too."

"I am sorry to hear that." The man hesitated. "Would you like a lift into the village? I don't mean to offend, but your feet may thank you for the rest."

It was always hard to know what would offend a witch. For all the man knew Cassie liked having torn, muddy stocking and bleeding feet. It was brave as well as kind of him to offer.

"That would be lovely, thank you," Cassie said, and the man turned his donkey around. Cassie hopped onto the back of the wagon, and settled down.

"Well, that was easy," Angus muttered. "Charmed life, you have."

"Amazing how nice people are if you don't charm them by force," Cassie said back under her breath.

"Have you been avoiding the cultists for long? There's a hamper back there if you are hungry," the man called back. Cassie found the food tucked away in a corner, and fell on it, famished. Two rolls with cheese, two pasties, and a large punnet of berries later, Cassie felt almost herself again.

"Thank you for that," she told the man. "I had to leave without any supplies, so foraging was difficult."

"Only because you were too squeamish to harvest the rabbit," Angus said.

"The temple may have spare supplies you can take," the man said. "I'll take you there."

"Thank you very much," Cassie said, relieved. Her village was too small to have a temple, and disputed or un-bequeathed possessions went to the headman instead. Temples, it was said, were a bit more generous when dealing out possessions to the needy, and certainly less politics was involved. Maybe she could get her kettle after all.