Aviators; Ben used to have a pair just like them. A lens had cracked under his weight but other than that they were in surprisingly good condition. He had found what he didn’t know he was looking for, and in the most unlikely of places.

Ben brushed past the briars and left the church behind him. Its walls sank below the trees as he broke into a light jog down the hill, all the while toying with the why. Why was the church left to fall into ruin? Why were its carvings disfeatured? Why pretend as though it never existed? And now a new question presented itself. Why, if others had been to Tír Mallacht before them, did no record of the place survive?

Dawn had broken when Ben reached the field. He rested on its wall for a moment to catch his breath, waiting for the shapeless colours to fade from his vision. Something gluey had leeched onto his eyelid. He smeared it away only to realise that his jacket was polka-dotted in that same slime he had splashed through like a clumsy foal. He looked to their campsite. The tent was still up. He’d hoped that Chloe would have been ready to go.

The sun was lost to the muddied sky, but its light signalled their departure. They were already behind time thanks to his little solo outing. He felt bad for having left Chloe alone, especially considering how freaked out she’d been the night before.

He stopped dead when he rounded the side of their tent. One of its sides had been slashed open. Ben crept over to where its nylon flapped like a flag in the breeze and peered inside. Their rucksacks were in its corner. But there was no Chloe. The sleeping bags had been rolled and packed. Their belongings had been tidied away, awaiting his return, but he had been too late.

Nu hadn’t walked alone. The villagers must have returned. They had crawled – stooped and twisted – from their hovels, in search of those that didn’t belong, and they had found Chloe.

Had she heard their approach? Did her dawning consciousness expect Ben to zip open the tent, only to watch in horror – trapped on all sides – as their silhouettes darkened the maiden light of day.

Ben knew they had followed them to the campsite. And still he had left her. A ball of worry rose in the back of his throat, like some gristle he couldn’t keep down.

He needed to get help.

Ben kneaded his fingers into his temples, trying to think, but ultimately he just found himself staring into space. He had no clue how to get home. And his phone battery wouldn’t last long enough to guide him back as far as the bells. That is to assume its GPS still worked. Without Chloe, he wasn’t just alone, Ben was utterly and hopelessly lost.