A Million Roads to Nowhere

Find a Way Across

The weeds on the path continue to get thicker and Patrick nearly trips and falls on his face at various points. Much to his relief, he never does end up doing so. William picks flowers and presents them to Aithne and Lena, which both of them are undeniably charmed by. It's light fun- interaction that helps fend off dark and lingering spirits.

After a couple days of mostly consistent travelling, everyone's hair starts to get thick with grease and the air begins to take on a chill. The nights start to consist of fog, something which Patrick isn't pleased with. Out of all the probable weather occurrences, he dislikes fog the most. It's just a nuisance, if anything at all.

Patrick wishes for the night time fog to dissipate, but he longs for a bath more. He figures he'll be able to get one in a town somewhere (there are only few towns in this part of the Pink, but he can dream) or in a gentler part of the Tomyris. Patrick's used to being filthy, but at least in Vertbank he could wash in the Posy whenever he so desired.

Aodhan teaches Patrick and William simple sigils to carve into the leather handles of their swords and Patrick finds himself lacking in artistic ability. It frustrates him, art shouldn't be that hard, and eventually William helps him with it since he ends up being pretty adept at it.

As the days progress, Patrick finds that he isn't so glad to leave Elinmylly anymore. Being in the depths of questionable woods turns out to be far less favorable than a questionable town in the middle of nowhere. With that said, Patrick would settle for little at this point.

Sword fighting becomes common, mostly between Brynjar and Patrick. Patrick doesn't care for the feel of a sword in his hand. He doesn't fancy hurting anyone, nevertheless killing anything. He never mentions it aloud and instead keeps his fears to himself, although he thinks Aodhan can sense his trepidation because sometimes he offers kind words that help soothe Patrick's nerves.

Patrick isn't naturally good at sword fighting. He'll readily admit that. However, he isn't hardly as poor at it as William. Getting a level playing field is still something to strive for, not just for William, but for Patrick too.

The first day of practice was the worst, but it's gotten considerably less awful now that he knows what to expect. He isn't as sore now anymore, either. Still, another wish Patrick has is to do archery instead, something he's actually good at. He's been meaning to make himself a bow, but hasn't got around to it yet with the constant walking and growing fatigue.

With all that in mind, Patrick thinks that things are on the up. Lena hasn't gotten any worse. The spreading gold has calmed down and Patrick hopes that it will stay that way.

He wakes to the feeling of needles on the back of his neck.

Jolting up, Patrick reaches for his sword, looking into the darkness. The campfire has gone out, softly glowing embers as the only proof it was ablaze. Aithne, who was supposed to be staying up, is fast asleep, curled next to the feet of her horse. Everyone else is sleeping as well, but Patrick can feel something watching him.

He scans the camp and if he sees a figure in the darkness, he can't be sure of it. His breath catches and his heart starts to race, though he doesn't necessarily feel panicky. It's as if his body is trying to render itself useless. He squints at Lena where she is curled up on the ground next to Aithne. There're hands in her hair and eyes glance up to meet his, then, they're gone.

Patrick rubs his forehead, feeling the sharp pains of a headache coming on strongly. He sits with his back against a tree, unable to force himself back to sleep. He closes his eyes and thinks of random thoughts, daydreaming, until the sun comes up.