Into the Deep Wood

“Well.”

The big man scratched his head thoughtfully. The three of them stood in front of a tall barricade made entirely of large fallen logs protruding forth like spears.

“I don’t think they want us to go this way.” He observed.

“What would make them block off the main road this far North?” Ivan said, his head tilted back so he could look up to the sky where the barricade ended.

“Devils only know.” Yaro spat on the ground, his chewing tobacco making a splatting sound as it hit the frozen dirt, coloring it dark and mucky brown.

“That’s a lot of work for something that is meant to only deter wagons.” He pointed out. The structure was long and stood taller than the tallest tree around them.

“Where does this road lead?” Val asked, her eyes, too, were on it. They’d seen it as they approached, but from afar it looked as a hastily put up fort or military camp. Had that turned out to be the case, they planned on swerving off the road into the woods until they could safely pass beyond.

“Go far enough, and it’s the Capital.” Ivan said. “But long before we got there we would pass three cities at the least.”

“Am I understanding right that you want to get closer to Korschey?” Val turned to him, taken aback. She suddenly thought that perhaps this is something they should have discussed when they’d agreed to keep heading north. There was nowhere she could think to be, but… that was one place she did not want to be. The whole of Roska was where she was set to search - but there? Gods. He did not want her to go there. He would not have gone there.

“What better way than to hide in plain sight?” Ivan winked at her, grinning. “We would not have gone that far, don’t worry. There is a pass that leads into the pine forests in the east - they are not a part of the Deep Wood. There is a logger community there on the lake. I know some people, that was where I planned to stop.”

“I was just eager to have company.” Yaro declared, and Val smiled, turning her face away. Neither she nor Ivan could gather where Yaroslav was headed, and when asked he always made a joke - albeit good humored, the man seemed to dance around more things than he divulged.

“I suppose we have to go back into the forests, somehow get around it?” Val asked, her suggestion going unheard as the two men fell into pointing and a hushed discussion on landmarks and routes.

She had been with a pathfinder and a hunter, she should have felt more secure regarding their whereabouts, but Val could not shake the feeling of dread that hung just ahead - just beyond the horizon no matter which direction she turned. She had not heard the Hag in days. Not since the King, the hot iron, and the screams.

What had happened there?

She knew that something horrible was done, and she felt a certain… sorrow?

She had felt the emotions of the Hag, her voice had joined hers in pain and agony. Their minds and bodies for a moment in time were one.

There was anger, deceit, and loathing of all things - she felt these things as sure as if they were her own. But, there was something else too. There was a fondness for the unknown, devotion to another, the love of beautiful things, and an interest in rules and games.

It had not made the Hag human. It did not make Val pity her. But what it had done was show Val that the Hag was not empty. And because she was not empty, Korschey’s hold had scared her. Because the Hag was not empty, it left room to manipulate and use her connection to all Nothing-touched. Those were their voices. The thousand voices that cried out with Val, the thousand parasites that had crawled out of the Wounds, tethered to the Hag.

The All-Mother of monsters.

It was only a night ago that she lay thinking of this. Only a night ago that she had realized the gravity of what Korschey could do with the Hag in his grasp. Just as she had reached out and got hold of the Zabava’s thread, and snapped it, so could the Hag reach out to…

… and, Val did not know what she could do. All of this had been barely tangible, and only questioningly real.

“Heya…” she heard Ivan’s voice behind her. Seemed she wandered off on a stomped -path, deep in thought. “Could we chat?”

She nodded.

“What is it?”

“It’s Yaro.” He glanced behind, the red bearded hunter was nowhere in sight, and continued in a hushed tone. “I think he is… a bit lost.”

“What?”

“Don’t get me wrong.” Ivan held up a hand to emphasize this. “I do not think him to be malicious. But…”

He almost looked embarrassed saying it.

“I think he might be a bit touched in the head.”

“Why?” Val demanded, but kept her voice low.

“He has no idea where we are. Had he spent all the time in the North like he said - or frankly any time at all - he would know exactly where we are.”

“I don’t.” She pointed out.

“But I do.” He insisted. “It is my first time in the North. But any man with a map - especially one traveling alone as he was - can tell you where we are. This is the main road.”

“You’re saying because he is bad at maps he must be nuts?”

Ivan shook his head.

“I think he is nuts and also bad at maps.” He said. “Just be careful around him. We will go to the logger community when we have a chance. It is on a pathfinder route, and if they are still there it will be safe, for a time, figure out where to go from there.”

He smiled at her.

“Seems we are both just wandering in the cold.”

“Alright!” Yaro’s voice carried. “Found the end of that cursed thing!”

The two returned to the road, where Yaro stood with a look of pride on his face.

“As luck would have it, it even goes East. We will have to enter the Deep Wood for a while though.”

“How far?” Val asked, looking past him toward the seemingly never ending barrier.

“Just a bit down that way. I saw it from afar, I don’t think it will take more than a couple hours.” He said. She felt Ivan’s eyes on her, but did not turn around.

They walked along the sharp wooden fencing where it blocked the wind and snow. A small, dry trail formed where the sun had melted away the frost and new one failed to form. It was uncomfortably close to the pikes.

Ivan fell back next to Val, allowing Yaro to walk ahead.

“How do you feel?” He asked.

“I’m alright.” She answered, keeping her eyes on her steps, careful not to lean far enough that her pack would catch a protruding spike.

“I’m sorry if I pried too much.” He told her, quieter now.

“It’s not you.” She shook her head slightly. “I just, I haven’t spoken of it in a long time - my life - and only my mother knows. I haven’t spoken at all about…”

She trailed off, unwilling to revisit the thoughts.

“Well, I am glad you told me.” A hint of a smile grazed his face.

“I am glad it is you that I told.” She emphasized the you, and although she did not look up at him, he heard the warmth in her words.

“Maybe, sometime, you can tell me the rest?” He asked carefully, watching her expression closely, but she revealed nothing.

“Sometime.”

The barrier was built a little ways into the woods, and they followed it until the trees grew thick and light began waning through the foliage. All were careful to stay within sight of the wooden log structure, unwilling to lose their trail in an unexpected shift of the woods. The terrain was difficult, the roots were thick and grew tall above the ground - covered in ice. The impassible places had to be avoided, at a cost to their time.

“By the grace of the All-Father…” Ivan sighed as they saw the forest edge ahead - the faint remains of the day departing rapidly. They made it out of the woods before night came, and immediately set up camp beyond the thicket.

“Ah.” Yaro stood watching the trees as the others set up knelt down by the fire to unwrap their portions of the Cloth of Plenty. “We are too close for peace of mind.”

“It is too late to keep going, we don’t know what is ahead. Too easy to get stuck in the dark, or fall into a snow filled ravine.” Ivan shook his head. “If you like, I can take first watch.”

“Eh, no, no.” Yaro huffed and shot the forest another look before turning around to face them. “We could set up a wardwright, get us a little one to keep the crawlers away. But at this time of night might be a bit hard to find something on the smaller and less viscous end.”

“It is too late for a wardwright.” Val said. “And we don’t have any salt.”

Truth be told, Val had plenty of salt hidden in her bag - it had been an important ingredient for many of the remedies. But, she could not stand wardwrights. Repulsive practice of keeping the Nothing-touched away.

While they traveled, he had put them up a few times - each earning her complete disgust and gagging from the smell coming off the corpse.

“You aren’t wrong. I have no wish to go looking either. I will take first watch, Ivan can take second.” Yaro lowered himself down on the ground with a heavy huff.

“And I?” Val said, vexed.

“No offense meant, miss.” Yaro said. “And which watch would you take?”

“It is only fair it is the first.” Val had not been reassured by his compliance. “I do not need to be treated so, Yaro. I do not need you to spare me my fair share.”

“Heard.” He set out his cloth - the cabbage cakes glistening on it with roasted fat, and frowned. “I never thought the words would leave my mouth, but I am sick to death of cabbage cakes.”

“Wake me when the moon reaches the trees.” Ivan told Val. “And since we are not treating you differently, I would like to point out that you have been hogging the cream pudding.”