Forwards was the only way, Fir remembered that much. Keep to the path - that was another voice. Not hers, though. Somebody had told her that, once. What was the last voice? The last memory? She was sure there was something else, something she had forgotten. But it was all fading, memory dispersing like mist on the wind. Memory joined the Unquiet.

The path continued, to her relief, but it was definitely smaller than before. She almost came close to touching a root, once. Fir hadn’t been told about the roots, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew that touching the roots would be touching the Unquiet, which was the reason why forwards was the only way. Forwards meant staying on the path, which meant staying away from the Unquiet hills.

It hadn’t always been like this. Fir remembered, or thought she did. Night hadn’t always been this long. Once the sun had banished the night, at least before the Unquiet came. There had been others, then. Now, there was only the path.

‘Forwards is the only way.’ Pine leaned over, her coarse hair brushing Fir’s cheek, warm breath caressing the tip of her nose. ‘Don’t forget that, whatever you do. Keep to the path, and don’t stop moving!’

Fir jolted awake, or at least she became aware of the path again. She hadn’t stopped walking; she was still in the middle of the path like nothing had changed, but she knew she hadn’t been here for a moment. Something nagged in the back of her mind. That had been a fragment, but there had been more to it than that. That was a fragment of a fragment. Something was missing.

Pine jerked backwards suddenly, and her hands fell away. ‘There isn’t long now,’ she whispered, and an odd light shone in her almond eyes. ‘Oh, and one last thing-‘

Dampness on Fir’s check jolted her back to the path again. Why was this happening? She had come so far already that she thought she had left this behind by now. Her fingers crept up to feel something wet on her cheek. She realised that beyond the veil in her head, one emotion shone brighter than the others. She thought she had faded that emotion away already and began to push it away again, but not before she felt it.

Sadness. A vast, vast sadness - grief unconsolable, desolation irreversible. The dampness on Fir’s cheek grew heavier, and she almost cried out. She stopped walking.