Erean tried hard to maintain the smile. The bird flew down from the canopy moments after Rannok did, and alighted on his shoulder as was customary. Its pupil expanded and contracted as it looked at him, and the familiar sensation of its mind probing his returned. Rannok looked puzzled.

"Are you okay?"

Erean could not move his legs. They would not straighten far enough for him to stand. The cold and wet had seeped through his clothing and frozen them in place as securely as if they'd been made of wood. They'd need a fire and time to free him--both of which were things they did not have.

"He is unfit to travel on horseback," the crow said. 

"What do you mean, unfit for travel?" The corners of Rannok's mouth pulled dowward, and his eyebrows creased in worry. He reached out a hand to Erean. He took it and let Rannok use most of his bodyweight to get him to his feet. Erean leaned his weight against a tree, grateful that the pressure of the ground was at least off his tailbone.

"I am sick," he said. He watched Rannok's face curl into a scowl. 

"With what?"

Erean waved his hand at him. "No, no, I cannot give it to you. I have always been sick. The rain and wind have made it worse, I'm afraid."

He looked away from Rannok for a moment, fearing his reaction, but when he looked back, the boy's face had softened. Erean gasped relief and took a creaky step forward. The weight of his own legs nearly dragged him back down to the ground again, and Rannok caught him around the elbow.

"Is there anything I can do?" Rannok asked. 

"Dry clothes," he said. "And a fire. Once I am warm, it will be easier to move." He grabbed at his head to make sure he still had his hat, then took the horse's reins and leaned against her sturdy neck. "Where is Sasha?"

The trees rustled, as if he'd summoned her. Sasha appeared a few hundred yards off, riding the grey steed that had originally been Rannok's. He suppressed a scowl. Really, it was not the girl's fault. She had to have had a good reason for running from such a terrible man. The mountain passes would still be slick with mud, and mists still gathered in the sky. They would not resume their search for Sasha for at least a day, maybe two. They had time for him to explain, and to rest.

"There's an abandoned cottage, over toward the edge of the valley," she said through the trees. "It's going to storm again, we should take cover until it stops."

"I agree," Erean said. "Lead the way."

Rannok followed a few steps behind Erean as he walked, his calves shouting in protest with every step. It pained him to move. Perhaps once they were within the cottage

 and he was dry the cramping would persist, but the ache had been around for days, now, to the point he doubted it was going to get any better.

"You are going to die, if you are not careful," the crow said, in that echoing voice that said the words were only for him. "I do not understand why you undertook this journey."

Erean sighed deeply, but did not answer out loud. Instead, he let the memories flood him. His eldest son talking while they sat around the table and offered blessings of things they were thankful for. The sound of his wife's voice shouting through the house in the mornings. 

His youngest daughter's laugh, before the sickness took her.

He thought of the softness of their voices, the resonance of their laughter. The rage in his son's eyes when they fought, and the way his heart swelled with pride the first time he'd snared a rabbit.

He did not think of how terrible it would be never to see them again, but he was certain the bird saw it anyway. It blinked, its pupil just a pinprick in its yellow eye while a soft, leftover rain fell down on them from the canopy. Erean did not like the silence, or the feeling of the bird's mind retreating from his.

"You should not have come," it said, before it took off ahead and landed on the rump of Sasha's horse. Erean's eyes darkened, and he focused them on the ground so he would not trip when he dragged his feet. He did not know if he would be able to rise, if he did. He should not have expected sympathy from a creature that was so obviously missing its own kind. He regretted having shown it almost immediately.

"Not that much farther, I don't think," Rannok said. Erean offered him a soft smile. He was a kind man, even if he had his own darkness to fight. Erean could see it in his posture and the roughness of how he spoke. He pitied him, which kept him from being angry that the boy was a poor assistant.

"I have something to tell you. About Sasha,," Rannok said. Erean's posture stiffened almost immediately, and the darkness he knew was shadowed in his eyes deepened.

"I've known for quite some time that she has wandered off the map," Erean replied. "I only do not send her back because she is so obviously running from something terrible. You can see it in her eyes. She does not like to speak of it."

Rannok nodded. "I know. It's her father."

Erean watched her figure sway with the motion of her horse. He could not imagine what would be terrible enough to make a child want to run from their own father. He was certain he could not bear to find out. The thought of his own children turning pale at the mere thought of him made him want to vomit.

But the hardness made sense now. Why she seemed always alert to what the two of them were doing, even if Rannok seemed not to noticed. She watched them out of her periphery like a nervous mouse waiting for a hawk. It made sense, why she spoke of so little that was important, and why what responses she gave were carefully crafted not to lead to questions. It made sense why she asked so many of her own.

"We had best not stay long, then," he said. He did not want to find out what she was not waiting for.