Aster swayed in his horse's saddle. His mind drifted aimlessly like the horse under his legs. The oppressive dimness around them blanketed his mind just as his cloak blanketed his body, though a gentle shiver persisted. The sight in front of him was of too little consequence for his eyes to continue their strain to see.

Along the column he heard men grunting and murmuring in hushed tones. Blinking, he glanced back at them. At his look those closest sealed their lips, giving him looks darker than the black draperies of the lightless wood. 

"Pay them no mind," Endel grunted from the horse in front of him. The captain was indistinguishable under a billowing cloak and fur that hid his bulk. "They're afraid is all." 

The dullness of the dark and weariness of the ride slowed Aster's response. He blinked again, taking inventory of the woods that coiled around them in the narrow path they precariously followed. 

"I am too," he murmured. His lips felt numb as they fumbled over the words. 

The monotony of the dark was a greater destroyer of moral than he could possibly have expected. No vicious monsters had plagued their first night or their second day or their second night. Breath pent up in expectation of danger left the company dizzy. They rode in silence, in the dark, beneath the thick haze of the musty forest. Torches lit the area around the column, but their scarcity almost made the dark more unbearable. Floating swaths of light traveled around the riders with the torches but rarely ever touched the rest of the column. They rode in dark silence broken only by the occasional complaint.

Only two days, he whispered silently. It's only been two days. Somewhere in his heart he knew it was true but his mind screamed it was a lie. An eternity separates us from the Thorn Elm. His hands pulled his cloak tighter of their own accord, though he could not say what they hoped to gain from it. 

"Don't be a fool," Endel answered. "There's nothing to be afraid of." His words were sharp as ever but his tone had dulled. 

Two horses ahead, Aster saw Narenhior turn round on his white horse. The elf was yet to remove his armor, as was the entirety of his company. The long silver strands of his hair flourished against the dark of his plate, though the beauty was lost in the death in his eyes. 

"Perhaps the boy is right. You confessed yourself you do not know our course, despite the leader of your company. That alone is reason to be afraid." 

Fear was the last emotion that could be imagined from Narenhior's tone. Instead was suspicion coupled with a myriad of others - possibly containing amusement. Ever since the rangers had failed to come across the next expected landmark - a ruined wall called Teip's Forge - Narnehior rode with growing distrust. When one of the elves had drawn blades with one of the huntsmen Endel had reluctantly agreed to let the prince ride beside them, along with several of his company. 

"When a hunter tells me he does not know his own grounds," the moonwalker continued, "I am inclined to think him either a fool or a liar. I wish to think neither."

"Think whatever you graven-well please. We're riding north, that much I know. The scouting party will return soon enough and we'll know our course." 

Aster almost imagined Narenhior's crystal eyes rolling. it struck him, though, that the elf would likely do no such thing. Instead it felt like his lips were drawing in a tight line.

Nearly on cue, the moonwalker bowed his head from two horses ahead. "As you say." 

Endel grunted something under his breath. Probably a curse, Aster mused. 'As you say' had become a frequent phrase from the elf. The huntsmen on the column had quickly adopted it a humoring gesture, much to Endel's frustration. 

His thoughts were interrupted as a shout rose from the line in front of them. Their horses plodded to a stop amid the brambles of the forest while the hurried footsteps of someone running down the column grew louder. 

A slender runner dashed through the dimness in the molted cloaks of a Ranger, panting to a stop beside Endel. 

"What's this about?" Endel barked. 

"Water sir," the man nodded, eyeing Narenhior warily. "A river's crossing our way." 

Endel's eyes narrowed. "A river is an exaggeration. Must only be a creek filled by the spring meltings." 

The runner shook his head under his cowl. "No sir, pardon me but it's some hundred feet across. Nearest we can tell it's Mirdth Shield."

"Mirdth Shield isn't for another twenty miles at the most optimistic estimate," Endel muttered. 

"I'm guessing we've ridden west and hit a southern loop." The man tossed back his cowl. Shaggy brown hair twisted around his brow. "There's not much for us to do but turn back east or follow the bend northwest." 

Narenhior's eyes leveled at the captain. "What say you?" 

Dark eyes hid the captain's thoughts. He sat in silent for a breath. "We'll follow the bend west. Order the column to march as it has been, following the river on its new coarse. I've no recollection of a southern bend in Mirdth - the spring rains must have carved a new course. Either way, if we keep following it we should come upon a ford where we can cross." 

Nodding, the ranger turned his horse back toward the front of the column and rode ahead to join his companions. 

A thin voice coughed. "Let's hope your estimations are truer now than they have been before, sir captain," Narenhior murmured. 

Endel answered by charging his horse past the sullen moonwalker. 

The river declared its presence long before they came to it. Hissing of water scraping against rock and root roared and whispered through the bleakness of the wood's underdark. Aster had truly never heard anything like it. He had seen rivers before, but in comparison to the twisting viper of the Mirdth's Shield they were little more than trickles of rain drops. 

Black water bellowed along swollen banks that futilely  tried to restrain it, broken by rushing whitecaps that hissed to its surface like malicious souls. Sharp crags of weathered stone, pointed rocks raked like fingers through the water and stood along the river's bank like barbaric sentries. Their piercing edges slashed the current, spitting spray into the air that occasionally splashed on the riders whose horses followed its curves warily. 

A crystal bead struck Aster's face. It was ice-cold. 

Even the trees seemed to avoid the river. Gnarled branches twisted and wizened branches recoiled from the incessant spray, twisting to embrace their neighbors farther from the water. Roots coiled like pythons where the water had stripped their soil away, leaving slime and green algae in its place. 

Above them the sky stared down over the river where the tree branches where hesitant to grow. Aster could just make out the sun's deathlight with the coming of dusk. A handful of soft rays cascaded onto the river where they were swallowed.

Just as the last of the day's light was dying behind an unseen horizon, Endel gave the order to halt. 

Men began dismounting and leading their horses from the trail. Some pulled food from their backs or stood by the water, but the moonwalker's remained motionless on their mounts. All, that is, save Narenhior. 

"What's the meaning of this?" He glared at Endel. From the corner of his eye Aster noticed the elf's eyes flicker from the captain's face to the onyx waters of the river. 

"We rest here for the night. Midth's waters are as sweet as they are cold and it is not a long ride before we reach its ford. Best to cross in the morning with full light so the horses may find their footing." 

"My horses are sure enough footed, as are my men."

Endel looked the mounted elf over as he unpacked his saddlebag. "Good for you." Going back to his packing, he shook his head. "The stars will be out tonight. We'll gauge where we are as best we can and be better for it in the morn." 

Watching as discretely as he could, Aster led his horse from the trail, tying it to a stout tree that nearby. 

"There's darkness in this place," Narenhior murmured. He wrapped the reins of his horse absentmindedly in tight coils around his hands. 

"You're in Astfall now, your lordship. Every hunted tree has been dark since we passed the Thorn Elm." 

"My company will not camp here." 

Endel stood. "Ride on then. The trail has few coils and turns according to the maps in my mind." 

If Narenhior's face had further paled,  Aster would have sworn he'd melt into a ghost. The white anger was well hidden beneath his still countenance, but his eyes blazed hotter than any forge. 

"Until the morn then." 

Galloping horses pounding along the trail with a fleet behind as the elf wield his horse around.  

"He fears the water," Aster murmured. "Remember his story? About the black lake near his homelands?"

"I remember well enough," Endel grunted. "I don't give a wolf's droppings for it. This is where we make camp." 

By the time night blanketed the woods, Aster could scarcely even see his hands. Somewhere the river churned like a drowning man's thrashing. The coughing chokes of men snoring and tossing added to the din. No room allowed for tents or camps so the men were reduced to wrapping themselves in pelts or cloaks and bedding on blankets of leaves. 

And there are no moonwalkers among them. As unsettling as their presence had been, its absence was somehow more so. 

Rolling over, Aster felt a sheen of cool dew on the slanted rock that served as his pillow. His face felt cool and clammy under the thin veil of water. Tightening his cloak around his shoulders, he nestled into the stone.

Sleep stole in and out of his night like a smuggler. Hours or minutes might have been thieved by its invisible waves that came in uneven intervals. Aster tossed and turned in perpetual weariness that seemed to increase with every instance he opened his eyes. Under the cover of treetops he could tell nothing of the passing time; the moon may have began its hunt across the Plain of Night or begun its feast under the Hall of the Horizon to usher in the break of day. 

At long last he could take it no more. Climbing to his feet, he eyed the black around him wearily. It was horrifyingly motionless. Tension seemed to keep it hanging. No matter where his feet carried him, no matter what his fingers closed on, always it was there like a stalker following him between the trees. 

He stroked the mane of his horse, but even its warmth could no dispel the phantom that followed. He held the smooth handle of his ax, but no light shone upon its edge to reassure him. He even considered waking Endel but the mocking sneer he knew he would receive was almost as threatening as the visions that stalked around him. 

Instead he picked through the sleeping men and spindling roots that covered the ground. Every step joined the gasping of the river in a melody that should have broken the hold of the night's silence. Rather, the chorus added another layer to his uncertainty.

Slashed trees marked his way back to the camp as his ax cut a course away from the river. Every step seemed louder than the previous. In time, Midth's voice died. 

Standing alone at last in the silence, a small smile crescented across his face. The forest seemed bigger than ever but so did he. 

"I am a Watchman," he whispered. 

Even in the noiseless night the dark seemed to scream back at him. 

"I am a Watchman," he repeated. His voice wavered. 

Shadows plunged down his throat as he opened his lips, yet their fingers could not keep his words from escaping. 

"I am a Watchman." The words reverberated through the trees, expelling his fears for a fraction of a moment. 

"Aye, a dead one too if you don't stop squeaking." 

He squealed at the rasping voice behind him. His hands brought his ax down in a wild swing over his shoulder. A dull thud answered him. 

A Watchman eyed him from the light of a small torch that crackled above the sound of crickets. His left hand clutched a long smooth staff that had stopped the ax mere inches from his face. 

"You... how..." Aster gaped. 

"If you weren't so focused on bellowing at branches," the woodsman answered, "you'd have seen a light following you from the camp." 

"I -" He stuttered. The night flashed before his eyes in a blur. I never saw it, he realized shamefully. "I blazed my own path," he finally replied weakly.

Already turning, the Watchman shrugged. "A fine thing in the dark of night. Best you follow my light back to camp rather than grope for your scratches." 

Aster wordlessly followed. 

Wordlessly, that is, until his wits had settled. 

"You are not leading us back on my trail." 

"You've been walking in a circle," the man answered without turning. "We're taking a shorter way about." 

"Where was your light before? I have not seen it all night." 

"When it was not following your foolish route away from camp it was searching for Narenhior's camp." 

"And?" 

"And what?" the man spat.

"Did you find it?" 

"Enough questions," he barked. 

Pursing his lips, he tried to let stillness surround them but it was no use. The crackling of the torch was not enough to dispel the shivers that came with silence. Funny, he mused. The river's roar only made the dark worse and now silence does the same. 

"What's your name?" 

"What business have you with my name? Know your own and the route I lead you and you'll make it back safe enough." 

"No need to be so short." 

"I'm taller than you - and will be even more so if I have to make you a head shorter." 

"I'm not -" 

"Moonlight your mouth, boy! Don't you know that beasts wake when men go to sleep? You open wounds with your lips if you keep them flapping." 

I hadn't thought of that. "Apologies," he murmured. 

The Watchman grunted. 

As they walked the ground and roots piled into a great hill that rose sharply. At its peak a huge tree loomed over the low trail they had been walking. Its gnarled bark curled like an obsidian column at least ten feet thick. Tree limbs bowed from its heights like a thousand arms to form a low canopy as the two climbed the hill. 

"Come now, boy. It does not do to keep the forest waiting." 

The Watchman had made it to the top of the hill first and his form disappeared before Aster could ask what he meant. For a heartbeat the light of his torch testified to his presence behind the elm until it suddenly went dark. 

Groping for a branch, Aster blinked. His eyes had already adjusted to the flame's light, leaving him blindfolded to the sudden dark. 

"Hello... Hello..." He tried to call out a name but realized he didn't know it. "Are you alright? Where is the light?" 

"Not here," a thin voice breathed behind him.