He’d traveled east for no particular reason other than west was the Strangled Sea, south was the Bleeding Sea, and north led toward Marchessault. Somehow Ludo didn’t think he’d enjoy a bustling city very much. That left east, which also had its share of cities, albeit much smaller than the kingdom’s capital, but they could easily be avoided if one wished to.

Along the way, Ludo picked up small jobs at the farmsteads that happened to cross his path, earning him room and board and the occasional copper coin flipped his way. He had enough to jingle about in his pouch now.

He was no expert on geography, but he’d left the hill lands south of Oath well behind him, which meant he had to be getting close to Hern by now. Summer had arrived in earnest, and each day seemed to grow hotter than the last. His skin was brown, his hair a lighter shade than it had ever been, longer too, and his clothes on the wrong side of threadbare.

And yet, despite being alone most of the time, he didn’t feel sad. He wasn’t happy either, but he felt a lightness and freedom that Last Dawn and its ghosts had never been able to provide. He thought of his father often but was never tempted to return home. Whatever Last Dawn still had to offer, it wasn’t for him. No, his future was out there in the wide world…somewhere. He just had to find it.

At midday, when the sun seemed intent on burning a hole right through him, he reached a large river. It was the first he’d come across since his journey began. There’d been streams and ponds, of course, but nothing like this, a waterway so wide across he had to squint to see the other side. He could see the current moving, but it was hard to make out how swiftly, the depth obscured by whitewater and bubbles.

He found a broad leaf that would double as a toy boat, and then tossed it into the flow. The leaf was immediately swept away, spinning and whirling as invisible eddies swept it around before shooting it back downstream on the wings of the main current.

Ludo considered his predicament. A dip in the water would soothe the sun’s heat, that was for damn sure, but how far down the river’s length would he be swept before he reached the other side? He was a strong swimmer, but this was no gentle stream or pleasant pond. “Must be Lostriver,” he said aloud. In truth, he said it more to make him feel like he knew where he was than any certainty about the river’s identity. Lostriver was the only major river he’d heard of, supposedly cutting right through the heart of Finfalla and Lostwood as it stretched all the way from the Perilous Passage to the Bleeding Sea.