Part 6

Zara sat close to their fire, knees drawn up closer to her chest and arms wrapped around her shins. She rested her chin on top of her knees as she stared warily into the orange glow.

Ronan laid next to her, hands laced behind his head as he stared up at the thick canvas of trees overhead. He hadn't said a word since they'd started making camp, leading her to believe that maybe he was either lost in his own thoughts or waiting for the right time to start questioning her again.

"You should sleep," she said. "You'll need all the rest you can get." She glanced down at Ronan who had turned his head to face her.

"And what about you? You don't need sleep? Must be nice," he teased, settling back into his previous position.

"I'm taking first watch, so I'll sleep later. Anyways, I'm used to being awake for long hours."

"Why's that?" he asked.

She shrugged. "When I was a part of the guard, most of it was standing watch or patrolling for long periods of time. I had to train myself to fight off sleep...even now I have a hard time sleeping for more than four or five hours at a time."

"And before the guard?" Ronan asked curiously. "What were you like then?"

Zara wrinkled her nose, not used to answering so many questions. In the beginning, even before the Red Capes, Zara had been a quiet child. Her grandmother had used to say that was what made her so intuitive. She was keen to watch and listen to the world around her, but had little interest in interacting unless given reason.

It'd been a long time since she'd spent so much time with one person. After losing Gray and leaving the guard, contact with any living thing was limited. Mostly by choice, though partially from the knowledge that many wouldn't willingly seek out her company any longer for obvious reasons.

Zara considered ignoring him but thought it best to avoid causing a large rift between them so soon.

"About the same, I suppose. I was raised by my grandmother. She lived in a village in this forest...she's the one who taught me how to respect this place. How to never trust it either," Zara said. "She taught me a lot."

"Where's your grandmother now?" Ronan asked quietly.

Zara felt a pang in her chest. "Dead. With my parents."

"I'm so sorry." His voice was sincere, and Zara was relieved his tone was without pity. She'd had enough to last her a lifetime.

She nodded curtly. "Thank you." She paused for a moment before giving him a sideways glance. "Your father?"

"Died many years ago. He was a good man, but not a great father," Ronan smiled wryly. "Always leaving in search of his next great treasure. He came back each time, though. Except the one. Then it was just Annika and me."

His sister, Zara remembered. "And what of her?"

A cloud passed over his handsome face. "She was lost to me not long ago."

Zara pursed her lips thoughtfully. Perhaps they weren't so different after all. Ronan had lost just as much as her, yet he carried his burden in such a different way. His easy smiles and optimistic attitude made her question him even more. Instead of turning to darkness for comfort, he had turned to light. Something Zara had been unable to do. Or perhaps it was merely an act to hide the pain he carried.

"How do you manage to stay so positive? Even in the wake of everything you've lost?" she asked him.

He shrugged. "I'm still here when others are not. It seems a waste to those I've loved to ignore that."

Zara pondered his words as she turned to stare into the flames of the fire. There was truth there, but that acceptance was not as easy for her.

"Then there are those who are not here because of a careless mistake. Of a lapse in judgement by someone they once trusted," Zara murmured.

"You should let go of your guilt. Before you're unable to feel anything else," he warned her softly.

Zara settled back against the tree trunk behind her, the need to make conversation dwindling. "I feel guilt because I have to. Now get some rest. I'll wake you when it's your turn to take over."

His eyes lingered on her for a moment, and she braced herself for him to try and convince her she was wrong, to try and talk her into letting go of all the hate and guilt she carried. Instead though, he let out the softest of sighs and rolled onto his side. She snuck a glance at his back, shaking her head.

Maybe they weren't so different, but what set them apart seemed so monumental. Yes, he'd lost many but he didn't have blood tied to his hands.

Zara did.

This thought kept her awake through the night, until the sounds of the forest pulsated in her ears and burrowed into her thoughts. She was silent as she shook Ronan awoke in a few hours' time, choosing to exchange no words before lying down and trying to find sleep herself.

#

Morning came soon.

Zara woke to weak sunlight filtering through the tree tops.

One night down, six more until the full moon, she thought to herself.

Ronan was still awake from his watch, standing near the edge of the camp and staring off into the forest with his arms crossed over his chest.

"Everything alright?" she called to him.

He started at the sound of her voice and turned, relaxing a little. "Fine. Just impatient, I think," he answered, turning and heading towards her. He knelt down next to his bag and pulled out a piece of bread, passing it to her. "I know it's not the most exciting breakfast..."

"Trust me, I've had worse," she cut him off, tearing off a hunk of bread with her teeth and chewing thoughtfully. One night down and they were still alive. Zara hadn't had even the slightest sign of trouble during her time on watch and it seemed neither had Ronan. They were still too close to the boundary, but she knew that would change the further they ventured.

There was no mention of their conversation from the night before and Zara was glad. She could see further questions lingering in his eyes, but was glad he held his tongue. The last thing either of them needed were distractions.

She finished eating and washed down her bread with a swig of water from her canteen, before helping Ronan roll up the blankets and stomp out the last of the fire's embers.

"Maran?" she asked him. "You're positive?"

He nodded and patted the front of his knapsack before sliding the straps over his shoulders. "Absolutely."

Zara looked at him uncertainly before letting out a sigh and orienting herself in the right direction, using the sun as her guide and ignoring the compass Ronan held in his hand. Maran was east. It'd been the closest kingdom to her village when she had been a child. She'd been there many times with her grandmother, during their weekly trips to the market and the yearly festival that took place during one of the summer months. Maran had been one of the first of the four kingdoms to fall, the previous three falling in the later years of the second war. Zara was doubtful that they would find much of anything left.

She gestured with her hand. "This way."

The huntsman followed close behind. The forest had a different feel to it during the daylight, although it was only slightly more cheery. It still had a gray, cloudiness to it, shadows lurking wherever the sun refused to shine.

Zara couldn't help but feel as if maybe they truly were on a futile mission. All they had to go off of was the journal entry of a dead man, and her own tired memories of a place she had not visited in almost thirteen years.

They'd barely been hiking for an hour when Ronan suddenly called to her. "Hold on a moment."

Zara halted and pulled her cloak tighter around her. Despite the sun and it being the warmest time of the year, she felt a sudden chill in the air. It was more piercing and tangible than the one she'd felt upon first crossing the border. Goosebumps prickled across her skin. It felt like a warning.

"We're close to something," she said quietly, eyeing their surroundings with weary eyes.

Ronan brushed against her as he moved to her side. He was tapping the brass compass with one finger. "Close to being lost, I think. Compass won't work."

He held it out to her and Zara took it from his palm. The arrow in the center spun slowly in lazy counter clockwise circles. She handed it back to him. "It's no use to us here. The magic is too strong. The forest doesn't want to us to get to wherever we're going."

Ronan raised his eyebrows. "The way you talk about this place, as if it were a living, breathing entity."

"It is, in a way," she answered. "My grandmother used to tell me that life exists in all things. In a place like this, full of so much death and pain, whatever light there was is now dark. It's been feeding too long off of the loss, off of the anger and hatred of all the creatures that reside here. It wants us to leave."

"You can't be serious."

Zara whirled on him. "I've spent more time wandering here than most. I've seen things that would make your stomach turn and your darkest thoughts seem cheerful. This place is just as alive as you or I, and it does not want us to succeed. Refusing to acknowledge that will only get you into trouble, and I can't spend all my time saving you if that were to happen."

Ronan held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, alright. Calm down. I believe you...don't forget this place was once my home too. Although, I don't remember it quite the same way."

"Because you don't pay close enough attention," Zara said shortly, trying to shake off the chill that surrounded her. She pointed in the direction off to her left. "This way."

"How do you know?" Ronan asked, trailing after her.

"Because it feels like this is exactly where it doesn't want us to go. Don't you feel that coldness? That heaviness?"

Ronan nodded. "I feel something. I just don't know what."

They both fell silent as the air grew colder and colder until there was visible frost on the trees and shrubbery around them, covered in a fine layer of white. The ground crunched underneath the soles of their boots. It was as if it had suddenly gone from being mid-summer to the middle of a cold December day. The strangeness of it was unsettling, but not unexpected. Zara expected to encounter much worse along their journey.

Ronan let out a breath and it came out as a white puff of mist. "I've seen this once before. While on a hunt near the Greymead mountains."

He reached out a hand and wiped a layer of frost from the trunk of a tree. He rubbed the crystalized water in-between his fingers and Zara's eyes widened as it suddenly turned into a powdery black substance, almost like soot. He scattered the dust onto the ground.

Mesmerized, she reached for the tall, blossoming leaves of a nearby plant. She mimicked Ronan's actions and the frost turned warm, almost hot, in-between her fingers and turned black. "Reapers?" Little was known about the creatures, but she had heard them described as the substance of nightmare. Shrouded, ghost-like entities that enjoyed nothing more than a mass slaying.

He nodded grimly. "Close. And a lot of them too."

Wonderful, she thought. Most hoped to never meet one...yet she and Ronan were about to walk into a picnic of them. "I've heard, but never seen for myself. They don't come to close to the boundary," she said breathlessly, glancing at Ronan.

His jaw was set. "They wouldn't without reason. Reapers don't care about boundaries, or laws. They care about death."

"They go where it's the strongest," she nodded and suppressed a shiver. "I have a feeling we're closer to Maran than we thought."

Zara's teeth were chattering, the sound seeming loud enough to draw the unwanted attention of every creature in the forest. Suddenly, the terrain beneath her feet seemed to change, shifting from soft and spongy to something more firm. She held out her hand to tug Ronan to a stop. "Look." Crouching to the forest floor, Zara brushed her fingers over the worn, overgrown cobblestone that once had been a well-traveled path. Now, there was barely anything left of it.

"Must've been where the main path used to lead," Ronan said, kneeling onto the ground next to her.

"Must be." Zara agreed, suddenly overcome with a dozen different memories of traveling down this same road as a child. Usually with a basket of goodies in hand, on her way back home after a day spent in the kingdom. It'd been a different time back then, though. Everyone had been lulled into a false comfort, believing that because the wolves had remained silent for almost thirty-seven years that it would stay that way. Of course, they'd all been wrong. The wolves hadn't just been silent. They'd been waiting.

Zara had moved from her village and been taken to an orphanage in Whitehaven after the passing of her grandmother. It wasn't long afterwards that the wolves had struck Maran and it was quickly destroyed and abandoned. The surrounding villages soon fell after, including the one that once had been hers.

The pair followed the barely visible path for a time, the cold growing and the frost becoming thicker and thicker. It wasn't long before they came to a rusted iron gate. The walls surrounding it had crumbled into rubble, but somehow the gate still held between two sagging, stone pillars.

Zara grabbed one of the iron bars and tried to shimmy it open, but it barely moved. "It's frozen shut." She pulled her hand away and unbent her fingers to see her palm covered in black soot. She wiped it on the front of shirt. "Come on, we need to get closer."

"Just be careful," Ronan cautioned, watching as Zara pulled herself up and over the timeworn stone wall and dropped down on the other side of the gate. "It's not just the dead they go after."

She arched a dark brow as she peered at him through the bars. "Consider this the first of many foes that want us dead then."

"Bright ray of sunshine, you are," Ronan said in amusement, shaking his head. He grabbed onto the top of the half-standing wall and pulled himself up and over.

Zara watched him land lithely on his feet. "What do the reapers look like?" she asked, tilting her head slightly to one side.

Ronan's amused smile grew slightly. "Looks like I know something you do not for once. I expect you'll find out as soon as we get further in."

She scowled at him, but didn't say anything. Instead, she drew the hood of her cloak up and over her head. The cold nipped at her exposed skin. Just beyond the bend, she could hear eerie shrieks cutting through the otherwise still and silent afternoon. A warning to turn away. To go back.

Of course, they would do neither.