Wade woke late the next morning. Sunlight streamed through the canopy, clear and unbroken. The sky was a clean, pure blue, ice against the fiery autumn leaves. He sat up, scrubbing his eyes, and looked around. His father was leaning against a tree, slowly twisting the golden ring on his left hand. Elijah and his wife were close by, sharing a small breakfast. Rachel lifted her head and gave Wade a small smile.

"Well, look who's up," his father said, grinning at his son. He still looked exhausted, even though Wade had tried to let him get a decent amount of sleep before switching the watch.

Elijah looked up from his food and nodded. "Morning, Ryan."

It took Wade a moment to remember his new name. "Morning," he yawned, brushing dirt and leaves from his hair. He looked at his father. "Why didn't you wake me? The sun's already up."

"We were talking." His father looked at Elijah. "Apparently there's a town, Silith, not far from here: if we hurry, we can get there before night falls. We'll be able to replenish our supplies and even get sleep at the inn."

"Really?" Wade perked up, excited at the prospect of warm food and a bed, but hesitated. "Do we really have enough money to afford . . ." he trailed off, remembering the watching couple. It felt rude to discuss such a thing before them: they had nothing at all.

"Just about."

". . . Alright. When do we get going?"

"As soon as you're ready."

Wade nodded and stood up, rolling his shoulders. They were stiff and sore; he missed his bed. He grabbed his sword, which he'd left lying by his side, and fastened it to his belt. Rachel's eyes flicked toward it, but she said nothing.

"Of the bandits," Wade's father said, looking back at the couple. Apparently they weren't quite done with their conversation. "How many were there?"

Elijah shrugged. "Four or five, though it sounded like there were more. It was hard to see in the dark."

Rachel nodded and drew closer to her husband. "They knocked Elijah to the ground. I tried to fight back--that's how I was injured. They took everything before we could retaliate and left us lying there. I heard one man say something about how the others would be pleased."

"That sounds awful," Wade said.

Rachel closed her eyes. "They could've done far worse to us."

Elijah's face darkened, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "We're safe now, Rachel. And soon we'll be able to get some help."

Rachel nodded. She whispered something Wade couldn't hear, and they both stood, gripping each other for support.

"Well," Elijah said with a weak smile. "This is where we must part ways. It's been wonderful meeting you both. If there's anything we can do to repay you . . ."

"It was the least we could do," Wade's father said.

Rachel dipped her head. "We're in your debt. I hope we meet again, on happier terms."

"Same here."

With a final goodbye, the couple left in the direction of Aleran. Wade grinned and waved until they'd gone some distance away. He hoped that they'd be able to find help in Aleran.

"Right," his father finally said, turning to face the road ahead. "Let's go."

It was nice to see the sky again. Wade tilted his face to it as they walked, relishing the heat of the sun against his skin. A lingering summer breeze hung fresh in the air, dulling the bitter cold that had descended over the land in the last few weeks.

"Wade." His father's voice was thoughtful.

"Yes?"

"What do you think of these bandits?"

Wade thought for a moment. "I don't think they'll be a problem for us. We haven't had to make any fires yet, and we always keep an eye or two on the road. Besides, Ash taught me a lot about swordplay."

"You'd want to fight them?"

Wade frowned. "Yes, if we stood a chance. We can't afford to lose anything else." He glanced nervously at his father. He looked troubled. Wade waited a minute before speaking again. "What do you think of the bandits?"

"I think we'll have to be very careful moving forward."

Like we weren't already. Wade frowned at his shoes. The road was covered in a thin layer of dead leaves in various shades of brown and red. The brittle plants crunched under his feet, their moisture and flexibility long since leached away. "What else is there to do?"

His father sighed. "Just keep a sharp eye out, and not just for bandits. We don't know what we'll find in this town."

Wade bit his lip. "I guess we'll have to find out."

<><><>

The sun was hanging low in the sky when they crested a tall hill and saw the town of Silith spread out before them. It was still some distance away: all Wade could see was a cluster of roofs creviced by a tangled web of streets. A few thin threads of smoke twisted up from the chimneys, disappearing into the deep blue of the sky.

"There it is," Wade said, scanning the area. All around, the land seemed to rise and dip in great, forested waves. The ground was rockier here, and, far to the north, he got his first glimpse of the distant mountains. They crested the sea of trees like a line of jagged teeth, their shapes pale and indistinct.

"Let's go before it gets too dark," his father said from behind him. His breathing was heavy from climbing up the steep hill, and despite the cold beads of sweat lined his forehead.

Wade frowned and looked back at the town. His hand fell to the hilt of his sword. "Rachel warned me against letting others see the sword," he said. "Or, more specifically, soldiers."

"You think there might be soldiers in Silith?"

Wade shrugged. "There or some other town. I don't see why else she'd tell me."

"Very well . . . Here, use this to hide it."

Wade took the roll of ragged cloth his father gave him and knelt down. He unbuckled the sword and wrapped it in the fabric, doing what he could to hide the shape of the weapon. When he'd finished, he slung it across his back and twisted his head to see it. "Does that work?"

His father nodded. "Perfect. Are you ready, then?"

Wade took a deep breath. "Yes." They'd be fine. Ash was the one that the Valkir would be after. Surprisingly enough, the thought didn't do much to help calm his nerves.

They started trotting down the hill. Wade's nervous anticipation grew with each step. He kept his eyes on the town as it grew closer. It was drawn into itself, surrounded on all sides by the towering trees. The buildings had a distinct air of shabbiness, leaning against one another for support. A few people walked along the streets, hoods pulled up against the cold. But what caught his attention the most was the small group of men gathered around a bonfire near the entrance to the town, holding their hands up to the flickering orange flames.

"Father," he whispered. "Rachel was right. Those are soldiers." Their mail armor gleamed like burnished gold in the light of the fire.

His father squared his shoulders. "Get ready to run," he said quietly. "Just in case."

"Ho, strangers!" a soldier called as they approached. Wade tensed, but the man's voice held no trace of anger or surprise.

"Yes?" his father replied.

"State your business." The words sounded rehearsed, and the soldier looked rather bored. So far, so good.

"I'm Heath, and this here's Ryan. We're just passing through."

The man tilted his head. "Where are you headed?"

"Oldham. My sister's fallen ill and she has nobody else to care for her." Wade nodded along to the lie. They'd struggled to come up with a believable cover story after meeting Elijah and Rachel. The other soldiers watched quietly, half illuminated by their fire, half drenched in darkness.

The man looked between them, his blue eyes sharp and bright. A second passed, and his face cleared. "Many have fallen sick recently. It's the cold, of course. I hope she recovers."

Wade closed his eyes and breathed a small sigh of relief. His father relaxed a little, though Wade doubted the guards noticed.

"Thank you. Do you know where we could rest for the night? We've been traveling for some time."

"Yes, of course. The inn's just over there," the soldier said, pointing at a building some distance down the street.

Wade grinned at the soldier and followed his father toward the inn. It was a large building, with two stories and a thatched roof. A small stable was attached to the side: a single black horse resided within, nickering at the passerby. Wade stared at it as they walked past: it was a magnificent creature, healthy and strong. He'd always loved horses. A single drunken figure stumbled down the street, hidden in the stretching shadows.

Wade's father pushed open the thick door. Candlelight spilled out onto the street, accompanied by the gentle murmur of voices.

The instant they stepped inside, the air warmed. A decently sized fire blazed away in a corner of the main room, illuminating a few tables scattered around the open space. A pot of stew simmered over it, filling the room with a rich, meaty scent. A flight of steep stairs at the back wall led to what must've been the second floor. A few people were sitting at the tables, eating from rough wooden bowls. A woman was standing behind a wooden counter near the back, chatting with an older man nursing a beer. She looked up as they entered and waved them over.

"You two travelers?" she asked as they approached.

"Yes," Wade's father answered. "Is there a room available?"

"Yeah, but it ain't free."

As his father fished a few coins from their bag, Wade looked around the room. Most of the people ignored them, though he earned a few curious looks from a group of farmers playing cards by the fire. Wade nodded at them amiably and turned away, gnawing at his lip. He'd never minded being paid attention before, but now he was hyperaware of every glance thrown their way.

"--end of the corridor," the woman was saying. She handed Wade's father a silver key.

"Thanks." He headed immediately for the stairs, tucking the key into his pocket. Wade trailed after him.

"Can't we eat?" He glanced wistfully at the stew cooking over the fireplace.

His father hesitated; his eyes flicked warily around the room. "It's unwise to stay here."

Wade frowned but obediently followed after the blacksmith. They climbed the stairs and went down a short, narrow hallway before stopping at a door. His father slipped the key into the lock and motioned Wade to enter first, looking over his shoulder before following.

Wade looked around the room. A single straw bed was pushed up against the wall. A pitcher of water, a shallow basin, and a rickety old table were the only other furniture.

"What's wrong?" he asked. "We're safe--nobody seemed suspicious."

His father tossed their bag on the table and sat heavily on the bed. "We should spend as little time as possible around other people. We keep our heads down, get a decent night's sleep, buy supplies if we can, and leave early the next morning. That's the plan."

Wade thought for a moment. "Shouldn't we try to learn something, while we're here? These people might have heard something about Ash--or us, even. They obviously didn't know who we were, so we should be fine. I doubt that Valkir even remembered what we look like." He felt his lip curl at the thought of the man.

His father scowled and shook his head. "A man and his son traveling is all the description people need. And from what I've heard of those Valkir, the man will know what we look like. Just because we haven't been recognized doesn't mean we won't."

Wade struggled to come up with a valid argument. "We should still explore the town, make sure it's safe. And we need the information. We may as well be blind and deaf if we don't know what's going on elsewhere."

"No, Wade. This is our only chance to both get some sleep, and we cannot risk discovery to ask a few questions."

"But what if--?"

"That's enough, boy."

They glared across the room at each other for a moment. Finally, Wade lowered his eyes. "Yes, sir." He strode to the bed and yanked off the thin blanket. "I'll take the floor."

His father said nothing, just kicked off his shoes. Wade spread his blanket across the floor and lay down, glaring at the wall. He desperately wanted to explore the town and learn what was truly going on. If he could affirm that they weren't wanted, they'd be able to rest ten times easier. And if they were, they'd know to hide their faces and avoid other towns.

Wade fumed in silence for a few minutes. At some point, his father began to snore--not much, but enough for Wade to hear. He mumbled something unkind and covered his hands with his ears, staring restlessly at the dirty wood in front of his face. Now he wouldn't even be able to sleep. And he could be doing so much more right now . . .

A sudden thought struck Wade. He turned his head to look at his father: fast asleep, just like he'd thought.

Wade slowly got to his feet and crept to the nightstand, where the smith had tossed the key. He slipped it into his pocket and moved silently to the door. With one last glance at his father, he unlocked the door and slipped out of the room, ignoring the pang of guilt in his chest. He had to be sure.