I woke to find a little fire burning not far away. Conmael’s folk again. No offerings this time, but the warmth was welcome; it eased the worst cramps from my limbs, and I was able to eat a hot breakfast before I moved on. No sign at all of the tracker, though the ground near the fire was disturbed, making me wonder if he had been right up here, a hop and a step away from where I’d been sleeping. I could not find any clear footprints, but someone had certainly come close. When the fey had brought the bath, they’d left no traces at all. I walked on with the knife stuck in my belt. A big dog would have been useful. If Conmael returned, maybe I’d ask for one.

Another day’s walking; a night camped in woodland. The tracker was still with me, soft-footed as a wary wild creature, betraying his presence only in the smallest ways. Skilful; persistent.

By late afternoon on the next day, the weather had turned wet. If I’d had a home to go to, certain shelter ahead, I’d have kept on walking, knowing I could be under a roof by dusk with a hearth fire and dry clothing. But my body was not strong as it had once been, and I was travelling an unknown path. I headed deeper into the woods and found a shallow cave that opened onto a small clearing among elder trees. There was evidence that others had camped here before me: a rudimentary hearth fashioned of rocks, a place where the stream had been dammed to form a shallow pool, and in the cave, a stack of wood. The rain fell steadily; my clothing was wet. But this hearth was protected by the rock shelf above it, and I would be able to make a fire and dry things out. As for the tracker, he’d have a choice: emerge and show himself, or stay out there and get soaked through.

When I’d kindled the fire and was building it up, I saw him. He was only a darker patch under the trees, motionless. Then a gust of wind brought down a small branch, and he flinched as it landed close by him. I peered through the curtains of rain, but already he’d shrunk back from view. Not coming out, then. Well, it wasn’t my problem if he died of an ague. I’d never asked him to follow me.