Szat scowled down at her. “That’s because you feed me too much fibre.” Then turning to Goron, he said, “What’s your favourite sauce for beef?”
“Bread sauce, no question.”
Morwen shrugged her shoulders. Greedy pigs, they deserved each other.
Less burdened, she caught up to Caroc walking nimbly by the water’s edge. The ranger had been quieter than usual obviously dealing with his latest internal struggle. The light suddenly passed from the golden radiance of an afternoon to gloom. Morwen realised with a start that they had entered Tadblack Forest. The willow trees were replaced by giant ruinwoods, their bark grey, their boughs nearly as thick as their trunks. The root systems must be enormous, Morwen thought. There were no more birds floating on the river; instead, there were rocks so thick with moss they could be used as pillows. A cacophony of insect song shrilled insistently overhead. Morwen shuddered at the sound, reminded of their recent run-in with the chomites.
“It doesn’t look too bad,” Morwen said trying to sound cheerful.
Caroc drew his eyes from the trees and looked at Morwen. He shook his head in astonishment. “The place is evil. It killed all my brothers and sisters. You have no idea what horrors live amongst these trees.”
Caroc’s voice was harsh, and a steely glint flashed in his eyes. Something had happened here that got his blood up.
“Where will the river take us?” Morwen asked.
“The toadoks’ village.” He spat out the word, toadok, as if it were poison on his tongue.
Morwen smiled to herself. That was it then; Caroc had a vendetta against the toadoks! She was okay with that. Yeston said he wanted the toadok problem sorted out once and for all.
The three camped for the night by a fallen ruinwood tree. Its huge trunk stretched across the river. The bones of a deer lay nearby, given flesh again by the soft moss as if the forest itself were trying to resurrect the fallen beast.
Morwen’s back ached, and she couldn’t stand for another moment if she tried. She let her pack slide down her shoulders and off her arms onto the ground and flopped down beside it.
The others didn’t seem nearly so weary. Caroc started collecting wood for a fire. Szat prowled around in search of food. Goron walked down to the river to try to spear some of the ‘delicious looking fish’ with a sharpened, wooden stick. Morwen was content to do nothing. She didn’t care if the others thought she was shirking off. If it weren’t for her, they’d all still be running around in circles in the catacombs.
Morwen woke with a stream of drool running down her cheek. It was evening. Light drained from the forest and the aromatic smell of fish stew was heavy on the air. Szat’s was trying to squeeze himself into the cooking pot. Caroc and Goron lay with their belts loosened and contented looks on their faces. Morwen’s face flushed with anger. The selfish gluttons. She was wondering whether the offence warranted a curse when she noticed a steaming bowl of stew beside her. She hungrily scooped up a mouthful with her hands not caring if she burnt her fingers. It was delicious. The bitterness of the fish was balanced by the zesty herbs. Not realising how hungry she was, she gobbled down the lot.
Licking the bowl, she noticed Goron staring at her.
He smiled, “Not a bad brew for a solider.”
“You cooked that?”
“You have to do all your own cooking on guard duty.”
The warrior was full of surprises. Szat finished licking the pot clean, belched and waddled off to urinate against a tree. The fluorescent green stream glowed in the dark. Another surprise.
“I’ll take first watch,” Goron said standing up and stretching.
Goron knew that after an exhausting day, the worst thing you can do on guard duty is to find somewhere warm and comfy to sit down. Instead of a soft mossy rock, he chose a ruinwood tree and angled himself so he could see both the river and the campsite. The tree’s coarse bark dug into his back and kept the sleep from his eyes. The beauty of the forest at night did the rest. It was just what he needed.
The moonlight turned the forest purple, transforming the dull, grey waters of the river to violet and washing the trees with shades of lilac. He always enjoyed being in nature and envied the rangers. A guard’s duty was to patrol the surrounding farmlands. The rangers watched over the Forest of Tadblack. Both groups had been remiss in recent years due to the overwhelming number of Wichsault’s enemies.
He looked back to the camp still lit by the dying embers of the fire. He could see Caroc lying near the fire, his pale face upturned to the heavens. Goron didn’t understand the ranger. Rangers were meant to be a hardy, intrepid breed, amongst the best men and women in Wichsault, unlike the guards. Yet Caroc was a coward, the man hid in the shadows every time they were involved in a fight. He’d heard the man was part of some ill-fated patrol and was the sole survivor. But it was just blood and death, how could such a thing affect a man so deeply? Goron had lost men and women before. There was no point dwelling on it. You just pushed all the pain down deep and got on with life.
Goron’s attention turned to Morwen curled up on the edge of the firelight. She’d been right when she’d caught him watching her. Why wouldn’t he look? She was a good-looking woman if you overlooked her megalomania, vengeful nature, and all her scars and mutilations. He didn’t like his chances, though, but then again it was going to be a long journey.
A splash in the river caught Goron’s attention. Ripples formed across the purple water. A big fish perhaps, it would make a nice breakfast. Goron walked to the river and waded out up to his thighs. He didn’t have a
