For hours they trudged. Fear kept them at a good pace, and soon, Sa-at was struggling to get ahead of them. But keep ahead he did, until they reached a part of the Wild where the trees thinned a little and his help was no longer needed. He watched them from a high branch. Though most wore similar clothes, he could easily tell them apart. As each one passed by he gave a little wave. None of them saw.

Fortune’s Eye and Wrath’s Tear had already set, and Vexation was low in the sky. Hil looked up – straight past Sa-at – took a quick bearing, and hurried on. Nobody said anything. They could all feel the change in the air. Soon, night would fall and the Wild would stir in earnest. Grim-faced and determined, the Gatherers kept going, all of their attention on the floor at their feet. The forest had not started to move yet, but it was only a matter of time.

Perhaps that was why they did not notice that only six of the group were still following Hil. Sa-at noticed. He had been counting them as they went. He turned on his perch, scanning the nearby area for any signs of the eighth Gatherer.

There! He saw that one of the group had stopped further back, like a lone reed swaying in the breeze.

He slipped silently from the tree and circled round so that he could approach from behind. Their breathing sounded laboured and they were making unhappy noises with each exhalation, as if in discomfort.

Sa-at was just trying to decide whether to risk talking to them when they fell over.

He watched them for a few moments, and when it was clear that the Gatherer wasn’t going to move, he crouched down nearby and rolled them onto their back.

It was Tal, the one he’d helped before. There were no obvious injuries, no reason why he had stopped. Maybe he’s tired? Sa-at sniffed. Something didn’t smell right. Another sniff and he had located the source. He lifted Tal’s arm so he could get his hand into the man’s armpit. The stink of fear-sweat made him wrinkle his nose. Did all people smell this bad? His own armpits made a smell sometimes but it was nothing like this. In fact, Sa-at quite enjoyed smelling himself at the end of the day.

He found the hole in Tal’s jacket and worked it wide until he could get his hands in for a feel. In the middle of Tal’s armpit, he found a stud of scar tissue, about the size of his middle finger, which was also the same size as the tip of a Spiderkin’s leg. Tal groaned when he pressed it.