I stepped out into the cool, night air and took a deep breath. The small, dark homes of the village clustered thickly around me despite the open commons, and I could see the subtle, orange blow of the Sun’s Peace that filled it. The energy lay thickly around the place, swirling through the air and pressing against me. Its touch was cold and almost hostile; I was an unwelcome visitor in this place, now, and it no longer wanted me here.

“Why didn’t I ever see this before, Sara?”

“You were caught in it, John. You couldn’t see the web because you were part of it.” I felt her mental shrug. “I couldn’t see it, either. I think anyone in the spell is blind to it.”

“Ionat,” a voice spoke. I turned and saw Serghei sitting on the ground beside me, hugging his knees and slowly shaking his head. Moonlit shadows wreathed his face, obscuring his features and giving him a sinister appearance. Even as he turned his head to look at me, the silvery light seemed to slip past his face without illuminating it.

“The Elder – the Sun’s Peace…” He rose almost drunkenly to his feet. “I can feel the difference. What happened?”

“Vasily decided he couldn’t trust me,” I answered shortly. I looked out into the darkness. “I’m heading out. What’s the fastest way to the Darkwood without going through your fortifications?”

The man stared at me for a moment. “You can’t go out into the close moon, Ionat. Whatever happened between you and the Elder, traveling while the hungering swarm is suicide.”

“I’ll be fine.” I hefted the axe and looked toward the barricade, where I could dimly see shadowy figures locked in combat. The pale forms of the hungering seemed almost luminous compared to the shrouded figures of the villagers. “Is that the only way to the Darkwood?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “You would have to fight through the hungering to get there. Wait until sunrise…”

“Like I said, I’ll be fine,” I replied, turning away and walking toward the barricade.

“Really?” a new voice spoke, and I turned to see Renica approaching. Like Serghei, her face and features were wreathed in ominous shadows, her eyes merely glimmers in twin pools of darkness. “Where are you going to go?”

I’d been considering that. I needed to track down the man who’d attacked Viora through her augury, but I had zero clues who he might be or where to find him. However, the augury told me about another person, the lunar mage in the Darkwood, and it included both in a question about what was happening in the forest. My only hope was that the two were related, somehow, and that made my next step clear. It was a bit of a leap in logic, but it was all I had.

“The Darkwood’s Heart,” I said shortly.

She nodded. “And how are you going to get there?” she asked simply. “What will you do for food along the way? How will you sleep without becoming food?”

“The hungering will avoid me, thanks to me turning them.” I kept walking toward the barrier, but she followed along with Serghei in tow.

“There are things other than mooncursed in the forest,” she reminded me. “The animals have gone crazy, remember? What if another cairnik pack starts hunting you? Or the leurik gets your scent?” She shook her head. “You could be killed by a skulk of vulpiks if they caught you sleeping – or a swarm of tiny soricaks. This is foolish, Ionat.”

It was, but I couldn’t explain my sudden need to be out of the village. The houses pressed in on me, looming almost threateningly. The people felt sinister and ominous rather than welcoming, and the atmosphere was thick and cloying. The entire place practically demanded that I leave, that I was unwelcome. I didn’t want to stay for a minute longer than necessary.

“I have to get out of here,” I finally temporized. “This place doesn’t want me anymore.” I glanced at her. “Besides, without the bond between me and the village, I’m not sure it’s any safer for me here than out there.”

“The Moon’s Truce still holds,” she protested.

I shook my head. “I can’t stay here, Renica. This place – it doesn’t want me here.”

She fell silent, and what I could make out of her features looked troubled. “Fine,” she finally sighed. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll join you.”

“Renica, he’s no longer here under the Sun’s Peace,” Serghei protested. “He’s no longer entitled…”

“I don’t need magic to tell me what the right thing is, Serghei,” the hunter cut him off flatly. “Ionat plans to go after the lomoraji in the Darkwood Heart, right, Ionat?” I nodded.

The woman jammed a finger into Serghei’s jacket-covered chest. “He’s helping the village even after he was cast out of it. How can we not help him in return?”

“By tradition…”

“Tradition can burn,” she snapped. “Right is right.” She looked at me, her eyes blazing intently, and it seemed like the shadows covering her face thinned for a moment. “Don’t leave until I get back. You’ll need my help, and if you make me track you down, I’ll make you regret it.”

She stalked off, and Serghei and I watched her in silence. I glanced over at the obviously uncomfortable man. “Well, that was awkward,” I said neutrally, trying not to let my irritation show. The village bothered me and made me uncomfortable, now, and it was already starting to wear on my patience.

The warrior sighed. “Renica has always been strong-willed and one to make her own path,” he observed. “I think it’s why she chose to become a hunter, rather than join the militia. She’s never seemed comfortable following other people’s rules, even when those rules make sense.” He looked at me gravely. “She’s right, though. It would be wrong to let you go alone when you’re trying to help us, traditions or not.” He nodded, seeming to make up his mind, then walked away, leaving me standing there alone.

Part of me wanted to explain that I wasn’t specifically trying to help the village. I was just doing the job I’d come here to do, and if that happened to benefit the village, well, that was just incidental. There was no point to disabusing them of the notion, though, especially when it helped me. Besides, Renica was right. I was totally unprepared for a long trip in the forest.

Serghei returned first, carrying a brown leather harness loaded with items. He held it out and I took it, examining what he’d given me. The harness obviously went on over my shirt, around my shoulders and waist, and buckled in the front, in the center of my chest and low on my stomach. A smaller crossbow hooked to it, along with a quiver of bolts attached to the belt. The belt also held a long, slim knife and had a large pouch that was currently empty. I glanced up at him, and he shrugged.

“You’ll need these to survive in the forest,” he said. “Consider them a loan if you must. If you return to the village, bring them back with you. If not, send them back with Renica after you’ve dealt with the lomoraji.” I nodded before shrugging the harness into place and pulling the straps tight through the buckles. The weight of the crossbow pressed on my back in an almost comforting manner, but the knife was in the way of my hatchet. I slid it around to my left side; technically, now I could grab the hatchet with one hand and the knife with the other if needed.

Renica arrived a few minutes later, carrying two packs and with her cairnik Vikarik trotting at her side. She handed one to me, and I glanced inside it. “What’s this?”

“Food, water, rope, a lantern and some oil, a cooking pan, a rolled-up tent – and the clothes you were wearing when you got here, patched up for you.” she replied. “I’ve got the same, plus some extra bolts and a pot for boiling water.” I gave her an impressed look, but she simply smirked. “What? You think I’ve never had to stay overnight in the forest? I’m the village’s hunter, Ionat. If the prey is more than a half-day away, I’ll be out all night, and it’s easier to do that when you’re prepared.”

She set off toward the barrier, holding her crossbow, and I hustled to follow. She glanced over at me, her face grim. “You’re certain that the hungering won’t attack us?” she said.

I shrugged. “They shouldn’t but we’ll know soon enough. We have to walk through them to get into the forest.” I pointed ahead, where shadowy villagers battled fiercely with pale, lean undead atop the earthen berm.

“And if you’re wrong?” she pressed.

“Then I guess I’ll have to wait until sunrise to leave.”

“Good. That’s the first sensible thing you’ve said tonight.”

We passed villagers working to keep the defenders on the wall provided with water and ammunition, and we received several startled and even suspicious looks. Again, shadows shrouded their faces in a way I hadn’t seen before, as if they wore a mask of darkness to conceal themselves, and I suppressed a shiver at their ominous appearance. No one tried to stop us as we mounted the earthen wall, though, and we climbed it easily enough.

I crested the wall and looked out over the battlefield. The hungering weren’t attacking in a wave, the way they had last night. Instead, small groups of them burst from the forest and sped toward the defenders in a disorganized, ragged fashion. Crossbow bolts sped out to intercept them, but the creatures ignored their own fallen; without the blood frenzy on them, it seemed that they much preferred living flesh to their own kind.

I stood on the wall and readied my axe. I could feel the presence of the hungering as a pressure against my mind. They moved almost as one, turning their focus to me and scrambling toward me, pressing against my will in an attempt to overrun me. I pushed back, hurling the same silent challenge at them I’d issued the night before, and stood, ready for them, daring them to come within range of my axe. The creatures faltered, and I felt their hunger crumble beneath the force of my turning. They fell back, then turned and fled, running away from me as quickly as possible. Some of them crashed into other defenders, and those attacked fiercely in their attempt to escape, but I ignored it.

“Our thanks, Ionat,” a voice spoke from beside me, and I glanced over to see a man I didn’t recognize nodding at me. “That will make the night’s work far easier.”

“It won’t last,” I said flatly. “Once I leave, they’ll be back.”

“Leave?”

“We’re heading into the forest, Jan,” Renica said grimly.

“I’m sorry, Renica, but we can’t risk setting up a bridge across the ditch,” Jan shook his head. “Come sunrise…”

I cut him off by sitting down and sliding down the earthwork into the ditch. “It’s just a dirt hill,” I muttered. “It’s not like it’s a city wall or anything.” A moment later, Renica joined me in a clatter of dirt and pebbles, and we scrambled out of the ditch and headed into the darkness of the forest.

Renica whistled softly, and Vikarik trotted over to her side. She glanced at me. “I ordered her to stay close. I don’t want her straying too far from you in case whatever you’re doing fades away after ten feet or something.”

I looked over at her and paused. The moment we’d entered the forest, the shadows flowed away from her face, and I could see her with perfect clarity. It was kind of a relief, actually; the pools of darkness that were her eyes had been kind of unsettling.

I shook off my confusion and looked back out at the forest. “I don’t know how far it extends, either,” I admitted. “It’s probably best that we all stay together.”

“I’m not arguing,” she laughed. “Come, follow me. It’s a day and a half to the forest heart, and we’ll never get there if we dawdle.”

I followed the woman into the trees, and we walked through the moonlight, moving as quietly as we could. The screams of the hungering rang throughout the night, and we didn’t really want to attract any more attention from them than we had to. As it was, I could feel them out in the darkness, blots of grayish wrongness that pressed against the shield I’d created. They tested it in small groups or as individuals, and the moment they felt it, their hunger broke, and they fled. I wasn’t sure what would happen if more of them came at us at once, though. Would I have to stop and challenge them again? Could I do that without drawing on the Altar of the Sun for power? I didn’t know, and I didn’t want to find out the hard way.

The forest was utterly still outside of the undead, and we made swift time through it. I moved quietly enough, but compared to the others, I felt like a stumbling oaf. Branches cracked occasionally beneath my feet; my war axe hung up on low limbs; my pack and quiver dragged against trunks and bushes when I passed too close. I wasn’t making a lot of noise, but in the stillness of the darkness, any noise seemed echoingly loud.

Renica, on the other hand, moved unerringly, never stopping to get her bearings or check her location. Her feet slid silently through the pines, her eyes roaming constantly, and she barely disturbed the forest with her passage. Vikarik trotted just as silently at her side, waving its head about as if testing the air. I assumed the canine probably was testing the air, and that its senses were way better than either Renica’s or mine.

We stopped beside a small stream after a few hours and rested briefly, drinking from the rippling water. Renica pulled out a few hunks of dried meat, fed three to Vikarik, and split the other four between us. Again, I realized that my stomach ached with hunger; it felt like I could never get full in this world.

“We’ve made good time,” the woman said in a soft voice, washing down a bite of jerky with a handful of water.

“Have we?” I asked.

She nodded. “Typically, we’d be meandering a bit more to avoid predators’ hunting grounds. Most of them don’t consider omeni food, but they can be territorial, and they’ll attack to drive us away from their food supply.” She gestured around. “The hungering keep all the natural creatures in hiding, though, so we’ve been able to travel as the somke flies, in a straight line. It’ll cut hours off the trip if we can keep it up.”

“Should we keep going once the sun rises?” I asked.

She grimaced. “Normally, I would say yes, but the way the forest has been lately?” She shook her head. “It’ll probably be best to find a place to hunker down and sleep through the day.” She patted her dog’s head. “Vikarik will tell us if anything gets near, won’t you girl?” The cairnik wagged its tail happily.

“I’m surprised no one has built shelters closer to the Darkwood Heart,” I observed, looking around. “The trees here look darker and thicker; I’ll bet the wood is better.”

“It is, and it’s been tried,” she said. “Without a Sorvaraji, though, it’s doomed to failure, and the settlements always get overrun. The animals of the forest are more aggressive the closer you get to the Heart, and they say the mooncursed spawn in greater numbers there, as well. A single close moon is usually enough to drive out new settlers, and if they don’t leave…” She shrugged. “We usually find their bodies among the remains of their settlement. You’ll see; we’ll pass a few on the way toward the Heart.”

“Are Sorvaraji that rare, then?”

“Rare enough that ours hasn’t yet found a worthy acolyte to train,” Renica snorted. “She tests our young people constantly, to see if they’re sun-touched, and the ones who are, she tries to train.” The woman shook her head. “I was one of those. It – didn’t go well. The spell-forms never made any sense, and I couldn’t seem to gather energy the way she wanted me to. Eventually, she gave up.”

That made sense. If every village had to be built around an Altar of the Sun, and Sorvaraji were relatively rare, then villages had to be rare. That explained why I hadn’t seen any sign of other people, as well; everyone lived in the village, near the altar.

We resumed our trek through the darkness. The forest felt closer and darker the farther we traveled, with the branches entwining more tightly overhead and underbrush becoming scarcer and thinner. We trudged up and down low hills, crossed a pair of swift streams, and walked carefully through low, muddy areas that grabbed at our boots. The hungering pressed against my shield with greater frequency as the night wore on, but none of them came close to breaking it, and we traveled with relative ease.

As the sky overhead lightened subtly, Renica led us away from the straight line we’d been following. We headed more uphill, weaving around trees and bushes as the forest thinned noticeably. Finally, we exited into a clearing atop a hill, and I stopped as I stared at the wreckage before me.

Someone had tried to build a village atop this hill, and they’d obviously intended it to be fortified. A log palisade wrapped around the clearing, separating the forest from the buildings beyond. The wall lay collapsed in several places, and something had destroyed the central gate, leaving the log structure lying on the earth to rot. Oddly enough, the gate and many of the fallen logs lay outside the walls, as if they’d been broken open from within.

“What is this place?” I asked quietly.

“One of the settlements I was talking about,” she replied. “It doesn’t have a name – or, if it did, no one remembers it.” She walked toward the shattered gate, and I followed her through it almost hesitantly. Beyond the wall, a dozen log buildings tumbled across the grass, few of them with more than a single wall still standing. Roofs sunk inward, and trees grew throughout the area, shading it and slowly reclaiming it for the forest.

“This happened a while ago,” I noted as we entered, pointing at one of the trees. The trunk was easily two feet in diameter, and it towered over the village. “This tree has to be close to a century old.”

“Only twenty years or so,” she corrected. “Darkwood trees grow quickly for their first decade, then they slow way down.” She chuckled. “That clearing you were logging in? Tedor’s been cutting trees from that same area for decades without having to go deeper into the forest.

“This place was abandoned when I was a child,” she went on. “They tried to start a village without a Sorvaraji, the way all these places do. As I heard, they hoped their defenses would shield them from the mooncursed – and that their belief in those defenses would protect them as well as an Altar of the Sun would.”

“I take it they didn’t?”

“Of course not. Walls won’t keep out the moon, after all.” She waved a hand around. “Without an Altar of the Sun to keep them out, the mooncursed would have spawned inside these walls as well as outside them. I guess they survived the first close moon, but they realized they’d never make it through a second, and they abandoned it the moment they could return to Borava safely.”

She led me to the central commons, where we set up our tents. I struggled a bit at first, but after watching Renica, I figured it out simply enough. She whistled sharply at Vikarik, and the canine laid down just outside her tent.

“Vikarik will watch for us,” she said. “She’ll wake us up if anything dangerous comes.” She yawned, and I suddenly recalled that she hadn’t slept all day or night yesterday. She hadn’t complained, but the dark circles beneath her eyes bespoke her weariness.

I just nodded and crawled into my tent. The ground was soft but lumpy beneath me, and it felt cold after the chill of the night. I didn’t have a pillow or blanket, and a thousand thoughts swirled in my mind. I was curious about how the village fared overnight, but I wasn’t too concerned. They’d faced nights like this long before I arrived, after all. Plus, if things didn’t go well – that was a shame, but it wasn’t really my problem. I didn’t wish any harm on them, but in all honesty, I didn’t have any real plans to return there, so their ultimate fate didn’t much matter to me.

What did matter was what we’d find when we reached the Darkwood Heart. Would the lunar mage that was supposed to be there still be, or would he be hiding? Would I be able to capture him without killing him, so I could question him about the greater threat? Or would I have to kill him and hope to find something that guided me on my next step? That wasn’t very likely; in games, people left clues lying around for investigators to follow, but in reality, people were rarely so considerate.

I closed my eyes, my thoughts churning madly, and never realized it as I dropped into a deep sleep.