Ludo knew most people would consider talking to oneself a sign of madness, but it never felt like that when he spoke to his brother. It only ever felt right, like for those few moments Gado was beside him, the pair of them as thick as thieves as they’d always been, like the past had been erased and he’d never left Last Dawn. Like he was whole again.

Regret swirled inside him, but this time it wasn’t because of Gado. He wished he’d shared these feelings with Bryony.

“Dammit,” he muttered. “Why can’t I stop thinking about her? Focus. You need to focus on the mark. The Fire Eater must be punished.”

He stopped, if only to distract himself from his thoughts with more intelligent pursuits, like locating his map and unfurling it. He already knew it had been rendered woefully inaccurate by Lostwood’s rampant growth, but Dunmire’s location hadn’t changed, and though the forest was now far closer to the village’s border than the map portrayed, it helped to reorient his current position, which he indicated with the tip of his finger. “If I’m here, then Lostriver should be close at hand.” He paused, cocking his head to the side to listen intently for any sounds of moving water. Nothing.

His gaze returned to the map, narrowing on that winding line that branched off from Lostriver’s main flow, a separate tributary or vein that slid past Comman Dur before continuing its path southward. The place where he’d jabbed his fingertip was so close to the mark it was almost touching. Which meant the river had to be close.

But then where was it?

A sudden fear struck him. What if this part of the river system had been so feeble it had dried up completely, the fast-growing forest smothering it with foliage? And if so, what if he found himself wandering in circles, unable to navigate by the sun because of the thick canopy that blocked most of the light? Had he made a mistake by charging headlong into the forest while Bryony gathered information in Dunmire? Would she find her father first, the pair of them fleeing Finfalla forever, never to be seen again? What would he do then?

Before panic set in, that blanket of calm fell over him once more, as though the forest had rekindled its efforts in response to his growing stress. He took a deep, centering breath. He’d endured much worse in The Wilds than being lost in a forest. With that in mind, he thought, Just keep moving, and set off once more. Within ten steps, he heard the sound of water, except it wasn’t the gentle burble of a cheerful stream flowing through the forest but the rush of fast-moving water crashing its way between a channel of stone.

He veered in its direction, pushing the tangle out of his way rather than delaying himself by taking an easier roundabout path. As the terrain began to descend, the sound grew louder, and he thought he could see what he was searching for through the trees.