“Perhaps,” Melcorka said. “But I cannot see from where they came, or where they went. There is nowhere, “she nodded to the forest, “except there.”
There seemed no end to it, a forest that extended eastward and westward as far as they could see. There were spaces between trees on the forest fringe, allowing a trickle of sunlight that faded as the forest became denser.
“The Forest of Caledon,” Bradan said. “Or the Caledonian Forest, if you prefer.”
“I would prefer it not to be here at all,” Melcorka said. “I cannot remember going through it last time we travelled through Alba.”
“We did not,” Bradan said. “This time we have a different destination.”
“Have you been here before?” Melcorka asked.
“Yes; a long time since.” Bradan tapped his staff on the ground. “Come on, Mel; talking never made a journey shorter.”
The fringe of the forest welcomed them with shafts of sunlight slanting through the boughs, but with every few yards the light grew fainter and the undergrowth thicker, so soon they were hacking a path through shoulder-high bracken and tangled brambles.
“It was never like this before,” Bradan wiped the sweat from his forehead. “I swear that these bramble bushes are larger and with bigger thorns than any I have ever seen before.”
“The flies are worse, too,” Melcorka swatted at the host of bluebottles that buzzed around her head. “And more aggressive.”
As they moved on, the number of flies around them increased. “Bradan!” Melcorka put a hand on his arm. “Watch your feet!”
The viper lay on an exposed boulder, coiled but still dangerous. Bradan stepped around it, stopping when he saw another snake a few yards ahead, and a third slithering through the bracken.
“That's unusual at this time of year,” Bradan said. “They're normally more numerous later in the summer.”
“Everything seems unusual,” Melcorka said. “More flies, more stinging plants, more snakes.”
“It is more like these jungles we saw in Hindustan than an Alban forest,” Bradan said.
They heard the crash of some large animal moving through the forest and stepped into the shelter of a tree as the boar ran past, followed by two others. In the half-light, their tusks looked viciously dangerous.
“Aye, the wild things rule the forest,” Bradan said. “The sooner we are back in more open country, the better I will like it.”
Cutting away some of the undergrowth, they leaned against the bole of a tree. “How long have we been in here?” Melcorka asked.
“It seems like days,” Bradan said, “but I doubt it's more than eight hours.”
“I want to see an end to this,” Melcorka said. “I'll go up a tree and see how far the forest extends.” Climbing was second nature to Melcorka, so she ascended the tree without difficulty, clambering up to the topmost branch to peer northwards.
The forest stretched ahead to a range of distant mountains. It undulated over rough ground, with tendrils of mist sliding between the trees, spiralling upwards to dissipate in the air.
“We have a long walk ahead of us,” Melcorka reported on her return. “Another day at least, perhaps longer, and the darkness is not far off.”
“We'd best find shelter for the night.” Bradan dragged his fingers down his face, removing a handful of flies. “God alone knows what sort of creatures infest this place in the dark. Everything seems hostile nowadays.”
“We'll get to some high ground,” Melcorka said, “or climb up a tree above the ground away from that sort of thing.” She pointed to a column of ants that marched past them. “Even Defender is no good against a million insects.” She saw the movement out of the corner of her eye and drew Defender before she finished speaking.
“Stand! I can see you!”
The man stood still. Covered in leaves and branches, he looked like a walking part of the forest.
“I am Melcorka nic Bearnas. Who are you?”
“Hello.” The forest-man removed a mask of moss from his face. “I thought I saw you climbing in the trees.”
“Who are you?” Melcorka pressed the point of Defender against the man's throat.
“I am Drost.” The man was of medium height, slender and with a pleasant, freckled face. He covered his mouth with his hands as he spoke, as if shy with strangers. “Are you lost?”
“No,” Bradan said. “We are just passing through.”
“Why?” Drost said.
“We're going northward.” Bradan said. “Where are you from?”
“I live here,” Drost said. “I can take you to my home. You can stay the night if you like.”
Melcorka glanced at Bradan, who nodded. “Take us there,” Melcorka said.
“This way,” Drost led them along tracks so narrow they were nearly impossible to see, until he came to a pleasant glade with a central oak tree. “Up there,” he pointed to a small wood-and-bark structure on the lower branches of the tree. “It's safe from the wild boars and snakes of the night. Watch.”
Taking a hooked stick from the base of the tree, Drost jumped up and hauled down what appeared to be a loose branch but was in fact the end of a simple knotted rope made from twisted grass.
“Follow me.” Jumping on to the rope, Drost hauled himself up to the treehouse with the agility of any squirrel. Melcorka followed, with Bradan a clumsy last.
The house was small and surprisingly comfortable, with a plank floor and wooden benches for sitting or sleeping. Even more surprising was the woman and three children who stared as Drost introduced his guests.
“We don't get many visitors,” the woman also had her hand to her mouth as she spoke. “I am Eithne.”
“I am Melcorka, and this is Bradan,” Melcorka said. “Are you sure we are not imposing?”
“Imposing?” Drost said. “No! You are welcome. Tell us of the outside world. What is happening outside the forest?”
“They must eat first,” Eithne said. “Where are your manners, Drost? All guests must eat first.”
“Yes,” Drost said eagerly. “They have to eat first. Everybody has to eat.”
“Thank you,” Bradan said as Eithne produced bowls of a green broth, with pieces of leaves floating
