“But in the dark,” Faabar said grimly “we could miss it and pass right by without ever knowing.”

“Or it could be waiting to ambush us,” Padric said. The thought had come to him suddenly and he voiced it without thinking, immediately wishing he had not.

“Either is possible. And both are cunning.” Faabar stood, his scowl burning in the last rays of dying sunlight. “Unwound are not cunning. This has been thought through, purposefully planned to throw us off and plant doubt in our minds. A bloodthirsty machine does not do this. They seek, they slaughter, they seek again. That is their way. This…is something else.”

“What then?” Deglan asked, some of the bite returning to his voice.

“We won’t know until the trail ends.” And the fomori was off.

Padric heard Deglan groan then spur his toad onward, up the stream bed.

“Are we really going to do this?” Padric asked his unseen passenger.

“You had your chance to turn back, farm boy,” came her reply.

Padric smiled and followed after the toad.

The moon rose, bathing the stream in soft, cold light. Padric could see where the blackness of the treetops gave way to the star encrusted sky and the fire of moonlight dancing in the water ahead, but naught else. The rest of the world was ink and mystery.

Faabar’s huge silhouette led them, the great blade on his back gleaming sharply when he turned to check for signs of their quarry’s egress. Padric wished he could ask Rosheen for her Faery-fire, but knew it would only draw attention should something be waiting for them in the dark, so he followed blindly, his once sore feet numb from the knee deep water. He trusted Faabar had a reason for traveling in the stream and avoiding the banks.

They traveled in silence, stopping occasionally to let Faabar scout the woods to either side. With each foray the fomori was gone longer and longer, while Padric and the rest waited in the water. They waited now, growing more impatient with each long minute. Padric felt his body flagging while his mind grew more anxious. This trek through the dark was beginning to spark of madness and Padric could not help but recall the last night he spent with Rosheen on his back traveling through a darkened forest.

Faabar returned at last, moving low and careful. He rejoined them in the stream bed and motioned them to gather. His voice was a wet whisper in the dark.

“Follow me and move silently. Padric remove your pack. Deglan you will have to leave Bulge Eye here.”

Something in the warrior’s voice killed any complaint the gnome might have given. He kicked his mount over to the bank and dismounted. Padric followed close behind and dropped his pack near the toad. Rosheen took to the air once again.

“He will stay,” Deglan whispered, patting Bulge Eye’s lumpy head.