They walked for several hours, winding their way northward through the hill lands. Though they did minimal talking, Ludo, to his credit, didn’t let the tension that had sprung up between them linger, offering a few rather inappropriate jokes that were funnier than they should’ve been. If nothing else, he seemed to have an incredible ability to forgive and forget, as though holding a grudge was as difficult a task as clutching a slippery fish with four fingers and no thumb. Regardless, she was grateful.

Boredom tugged her hand toward her pack, nudging it open with a finger while surreptitiously confirming that Ludo’s attention was aimed elsewhere, at the landscape ahead of them. She slipped her book out, thumbing to the page she’d tragically dog-eared and then holding the book open with one hand while trying to use the rest of her body to hide what she was doing.

“Reading while walking?” Ludo said without turning his head. “That’s…”

“Scholarly?” she interrupted, before he could come to his own conclusion. “Commitment to completing the story? A good use of these endless hours of walking?”

“I was going to say ‘a good way to fall down a hole or off a cliff’.”

“That’s what you’re here for. I’ll simply walk behind you and you’ll protect me from any imminent dangers while I enjoy this fine piece of literature.”

“Why am I suddenly feeling used?”

“Because you are?”

“Fair enough.”

They both fell into silence after that, and Bryony found herself immersed in her favorite author’s newest tale of tragedy and desire, where mysteries abounded and the capable protagonist’s illicit encounters were plentiful and always satisfying, with love treated like the profane word that it was.

Eventually, however, the path led up a steep rise that required her to stow the book and focus on her footwork lest she sprain an ankle or find herself slipping about. The initial rise soon transitioned to a steady, switchback climb that finally curved around a geological feature too large to be considered a hill but falling short of the definition of a mountain. Something in between the two, though Bryony didn’t have a name for it.

On the north-facing side of the not-quite-a-hill-not-quite-a-mountain, was a sprawling view as beautiful as any Bryony had ever had the privilege of beholding. The hilly Oathlands gave way to sprawling emerald-green fields of grass where fleet-footed antlered beasts roamed. In the distance, beyond the edge of the flatlands, was Lostwood, an endless expanse of forest stretching as far as the eye could see.

“Who do you think put it there?” Ludo asked.

“What?” Bryony said, thinking he was talking about the forest, or something that made equally little sense.