For the Prisoner

16. Song of Discord

Seonghwa found a new walking staff to accompany him on his journey. He knew he would need it soon. While he had no trouble breathing so far and the ache in his chest was much more subtle than what he had endured before, he tried to save his strength this time. If by any chance, Mingi couldn't prolong his time for long enough to find the White Lady, Seonghwa wanted to be ready for his decline and have some energy reserved.

His distress about the recent development must have shown to the group, for no one complained about this unnecessary step of their journey. Seonghwa had been the only one with a desperate wish to save Hongjoong, and though the rest of them had to worry for the priest once more, they respected the decision to bring the gargoyle back. Since they had needed the witch either way to find the White Lady, Hongjoong's return was a welcome addition.

Mingi was mostly silent as he led them through the forests. Snow cast upon his feathery collar and staff, dusting like a cloud at each thump of the wood on the ground. His antlers seemed to melt into the forest, becoming part of it until they looked to be yet another gnarly branch crossing their narrow path.

Behind him, Hongjoong kept a secure distance between the witch and the priest. He had Perie on his shoulder, jittery with the thrill of adventure, and yet on alert whenever Fléau as much as thought about leaving Mingi's side.

Seonghwa walked with Wooyoung by his side. The gnome was busy with his odd little hobbies as he walked, but he sparked random conversation from time to time or batted at Hongjoong's wings like a cat when they came too close to him. Used to him, Hongjoong didn't bat a lash.

They were closely followed by Yunho and San, who spoke in hushed giggles with each other. The smooth rumble of Yunho's voice captivated San, and his shy laughter brought smiles to Seonghwa's lips.

Jongho protected the group's tail with one hand on his sword and the other one ready to shove San aside if he needed to. Of course, their friend swore up and down that he was good at throwing knives and that he could beat Wooyoung in a competition any day, but Seonghwa bet there was some low chance of success tied to that, as well. They did best having an eye out for him.

Wooyoung sniffled. Concerned, Seonghwa glanced at him as he trudged through the pine needles littering the ground. The further north they came, the less snow cast across their path, for the forests were deeper and tightly woven here. The pine cone the lutin kicked across the ground rolled dangerously close to Hongjoong's distorted legs. They reminded Seonghwa of those of a wolf, tall and made for leaping.

"What is it?"

Wooyoung grumbled into his invisible beard, bringing honour to his kin. When Seonghwa didn't let up, he lifted his chin to repeat himself.

"It stinks of dog here."

Seonghwa's gaze skipped across trees and rocks. The hilly territory hinted at the nearby cliffs and the canyon Mingi wanted to lead them through. The steep walls caving in had also been the reason for the massive landslide that had blocked safe passage from Lewes to the Sinking Forest. An entire squad full of soldiers had been buried under the murderous force of nature.

He couldn't spot any animal akin to a dog, nor tufts of fur.

"Are you sure it isn't the cat?"

Wooyoung stubbornly shook his head.

"Dog, no doubt. Perhaps the beast whose maws our witch is leading us into." Wooyoung gave Mingi's back the evil eye. On cue, the witch fixed him with a condescending look over his shoulder.

"Perhaps if one of our group members wasn't considered a delicacy among most wild creatures, we wouldn't have stray mutts sniffing up our legs."

"Don't you dare talk about the preacher as if he were something to eat," Wooyoung shot back.