Bundled against the wind, the girl looked far less starved and pitiful than the day he found her. A light had begun to grow behind her previously abyssal eyes, and she had rediscovered some expressions. She fixed him with one now, a mix of wonder and even a little confused impatience, as if she could not understand why he and Curdle were not in a bigger hurry to see what lay over the next boulder. No sooner had they caught up and she was off again, making for the next cairn with the surefooted steps of youth.

He had never intended to bring her along, but on the day he was to part Toad Holm, Curdle took one look at the child and insisted she go. Deglan had wanted to throttle the pasty faced mind reader, infuriated that he would contemplate putting the girl at such risk on a dangerous hunt, but before he could voice his anger, the hobgoblin held up a calming hand.

“The danger to her body out in the world is possible,” Curdle said gently. “But, the danger to her mind if you abandon her is certain. She will not survive it, Deglan.”

Deglan had taken a long look at Blink’s lost face, knowing the seer spoke true, and made the only choice he could. As a healer, he could not deny the rejuvenating effects the journey had so quickly bestowed upon his foundling. She marched along with bottomless vigor throughout the days and slept soundly at their nightly camps, disturbed by neither darkness nor dread. The girl had still not spoken a word, despite her reconnection to her surroundings. Curdle was able to discern her basic thoughts and feelings, but Deglan had warned him off mucking around too deep. He did not truly believe the hobgoblin wished her any harm. He had been nothing but forthcoming since their meeting, but Deglan’s sense of distrust was slow to die. He might be an insufferable bastard, but if it meant Blink’s safety, Deglan Loamtoes would play his strengths to the hilt.

The day was old before they finally saw the downside of the mountain and the descent was every bit as spiteful as the climb. Deglan and Curdle arrived on flat ground weary and footsore. Blink awaited them at the bottom, fresh faced and bright eyed.

Curdle gave a tired chuckle. “We are two old dotards, Master Loamtoes.”

“Speak for yourself, Milkthumb,” Deglan replied. “I still got my teeth.”

The seer smiled broadly at that, showing he still had his as well.

“Well, then let us honor our Fae blood,” Curdle rallied. “Onward!”

Deglan shook his head, but could not quite manage the scowl he had intended. They walked on, following a heavily wooded track at the base of the mountain. Sticks had been laid to lead them and Deglan watched with fascination as Blink bent to retrieve each marker, flinging them into the underbrush.