Stupid, maybe, but I take the cup and drink what’s in it, which is not much at all, since the thing’s so small, but whatever it is tastes very good and not like anything I know. Stupid, because the creature’s not human, and not animal, and that means . . . Well, it could mean all sorts of things, and some of them are trouble.

“Better,” says the small one. “Yes?”

Take a deep breath, and a few more. Try out the bits of myself, since they’re feeling as if they don’t belong together. Stretch arms, then legs. Wipe snot and tears from my wretched face. Think I might be sick again, but no. “Thanks,” I say. Look up and see the hooded one isn’t alone. I’m in some part of the forest, right off the path, in under the trees. Eyes watching from the shadows. Shapes, small ones. Not animals. Not children. “Better, yes.” Not sure if I am, though. Can’t remember what happened. Only Blackthorn looking worried. And a monk. There was the monster. Crying. Still crying.

“Who are you?” I ask the little fellow. He—I’m guessing it’s a he—looks right at me, and I get a better look at him. Face like a tiny man’s, only not quite right. Eyes too round, nose too long, mouth too wide. Those knobbly fingers, like twigs. Hair under the hood, mossy green. Brown boots, look like bark. No need to ask if he’s fey. Question is, why would one of them help me?

“Who are you?”

“Name of Grim. Traveling through. With my friend.”

“Friend is looking. Searching high and low. Searching up and down. Not finding you anywhere.”

I get to my feet. Clumsy giant, beside the little one. “Blackthorn—she’s searching for me? Can you show me where?”

“Better you go home.”

“We’re staying at the big house, by the ford. Lady Geiléis’s house. Need to find Blackthorn first. Need to hurry.” She might get lost, looking for me. Might wander, the way the lady told us could happen. Folk went missing. Got drowned. Never came home. “Can you show me where you saw her? Please?”

“Better you go home, you and your friend. Sad place, this. Crying place. All tears.”

No arguing with that. The monster’s voice is everywhere. Feels like it’s right inside my head. “Please. Will you help me find her?” Have a feeling there are things I should ask. Things Blackthorn would be wanting me to ask. Can’t think straight, though. Did I do something bad? How did I get here?

“Come,” says the small one. He walks; I follow. The others, the ones under the trees, have melted away. “Not far.”

But it is far. What have I been doing? Starts to come back; being sick after breakfast, walking up with Flannan and that monk, and then . . . nothing. Only that feeling, the one I get when the red’s come down and I’ve done something bad. But different somehow.

“Where did you find me?” I ask the little one. “Back there, where you gave me the drink? Or somewhere else?”