By the time the sun had set and the forest had gone dim, Will and Horace finally spotted a camp. That was one benefit of the impending darkness—unsuspecting druids, cold from the constant drizzle and their soaked clothes, would set fires and leave telltale smoke trails in the air. Trails that Will could spot quickly, and follow even more easily. His eyes traced the gray blur in the dim dark blue sky, fading from the purple and orange it was as the sun disappeared. He knew this area better than anyone, he had been the assigned Ranger of Redmont and a resident for the majority of his life. There were no towns or settlements where the smoke was. Not even a farm, as far as he could remember.

"They're damn lucky," Horace grumbled to Will's left. "I've been freezing all day and you don't have to remind me that we can't start our own fire."

Will, still peering up at the smoke, only shrugged. "Well dry out under the trees. It's all we can do, we can't afford for them to suspect anyone has found them."

"For all they know, we could just be a hunter or a random farmer camping in the woods," Horace grumbled as he poured a sizeable amount of water out of his boot. "Are you sure we can't light just one tiny little fire? My underwear could really do with some drying."

Will visibly retched. "I'm sure. Keep your pants on, please."

"Yes, sir," Horace snickered as water trickled out of his other boot.

They were sitting on the ground now, gearing up to approach the camp. They were leaving Tug and Kicker to hide in the trees, and Will adjusted his quiver over his sticky wet tunic one final time. The rain had let up by now, but the forest was still freshly soaked in the rain. It made the air smell wonderful and clean, but the dampness prevented their clothes or belongings from drying. His clothes stuck to him, and his cloak hung heavily around his neck and shoulders like a weight. His hair was just starting to dry in messy chunks, and Horace was still shivering under his chainmail.

They squelched through the damp leaves, avoiding deep puddles as Will tried to lead Horace along a quiet route. He helped him avoid the sticks and dry leaves that could crackle and give away their presence. And thankfully, he noticed, Horace had learned a little something in his years of knighthood and partnership with Rangers. In his youth, he had lumbered through forests, louder than a bear twice his size. Will smiled slightly in the cowl of his hood at the memory of Horace stomping through the woods in Celtica all those years ago during their apprenticeship. Now, he walked slowly and quietly, only making a few accidental noises here and there. Definitely not up to the Ranger standard, but not something to scoff at, especially for a knight.

They ducked through the trees as they approached the camp. The light from the fire they lit was drawing closer, the shadows becoming longer and sharper, and the smell of wood smoke and the soft murmurs of the people hummed in the distance.

Will signaled for Horace to stop as they found a particularly large patch of cover behind several trees. As he joined him, Will whispered, "I'm going to get closer, stay here, and only follow me in if something goes wrong. Otherwise, I'll come back to get you soon."

He nodded. "Be careful."

Will slipped out from behind the trees, and to Horace, he disappeared from view instantly, leaving him alone in the dark, with shadows dancing all around him from the distant flames.

With all the talk of fires and spirits, this was not the situation Horace wanted to be left alone in.

Will, more comfortable in darkness than Horace, had made quick work of the last few hundred meters to the edge of the camp. He tucked himself into the side of a tree with an excellent vantage point between two branches and observed.

There were probably only twenty people there, and all of them wore long white robes and dresses. The fire sat in the center of the camp, huge, hot, and bright, and most of the people sat around it in circles. Will sighed as the warmth from the fire soothes his aching muscles and damp skin, warming his soaking shirt and cloak. The people wore wreaths on their heads of fresh leaves and vines. From this distance at first glance, they seemed quite normal aside form their matching clothes. They didn't carry any weapons or do anything threatening. But then one of them came walking across the clearing, and Will's jaw dropped with a click.

The man wasn't walking, not really. In place of where his legs should have been, two small stumps stuck out from his torso that he used to kind of wiggle his way across the ground. It was a leg-less man, essentially crawling on lumps a few inches long. They weren't fresh, he had obviously been handicapped for a long time considering the speed at which he was able to move.

Will glanced around again, and his horror grew. A women waived to someone else, the stump of her arm in the air lacking a hand or fingers. An old man was missing his ear and had a gaping hole on the side of his head, mangled with scars. The more Will looked, the more people he noticed were missing hands, most commonly, and after that parts of their arms. A few had peg legs, one or two, and a few others had scars and holes on their faces.

Will was relieved he was properly hidden, otherwise his audible gasp may have given him away. He had never seen anything like this before and he was having a difficult time staying in control of his terror and disgust at the sight of the mangled bodies.

He was instantly glad he hadn't taken Horace along. He might have screamed or yelled and ruined the entire mission. Will swallowed his own fear as the leg-less man finally climbed up onto a log. From behind, he looked normal, Will couldn't see the deformity anymore. It was eerie, in the light of the fire, with everything glowing orange and black, with hellish wounds and scars appearing on nearly every druid as they moved in the flickering light. They all went about their daily lives, gathering firewood, eating, drinking, chatting, sitting, running, all normal things families did. But Will couldn't unsee the horrific deformities, and it ruined the domesticity and normalness they were embodying.

The only people who seemed whole and unmarred were the children. He could only see a few of them running around next to the fire, but they all seemed to be in one piece. And thank god for that, thought Will. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing a hand-less child.

The King of Celtica had mentioned something about decapitation and human sacrifice in his manic spiel a few days prior. We've definitely found them, Will thought, and there's no mistaking their robes and tattoos, too.

I have to get back to Horace. He has to see this.

Will took one last long look, watching the odd, terrifying peacefulness of the camp, and then ran as fast and as quietly as he could back to where he knew Horace had been.

He slipped into the cover of the trees and squinted in the darkness, struggling to see since the glare of the huge bonfire had left huge purple splotches across his vision. He blinked a few times, trying to find Horace's bulky figure in the darkness. But he couldn't see much of anything.

Listening carefully, and not sensing that anyone was around, he hissed into the darkness, "Horace!"

No response.

"Horace? Where are you?"

Nothing but the crackling of the fire and murmur of conversation. Will peeked around the biggest tree, trying to keep an eye on the camp while locating Horace at the same time, when he heard the telltale snapping of sticks. Someone was running through the forest at top speed. He could hear their heavy breathing already, their gasping breaths filled with panic.

Sure enough, Horace swerved around the corner and nearly barreled headlong into Will. "Will, I'm so sorry! I couldn't stay, I had to go and--"

"Shhhhh, Horace, they'll hear you!" Will slammed his hand across Horace's mouth, but he shoved his palm away, terror shining in his eyes. "Are you alright? What happened?"

Horace was shaking his head, trembling slightly, his breath still heaving. He seemed to be having a panic attack. His voice was still quite loud when he said, "I saw her! Cassie! She was by the fire, close to the flames. She was there, and I had to go and see if it was really her!" He pointed towards the edge of the fire, just barely visible from this far away. "She was calling out to me!"

Will felt the blood drain from his face. "You saw Evanlyn? She called out to you?"

He nodded vigorously. "She was there, clear as day. Her voice was right, everything was right. I know it can't be her, but at the same time, there's no way it was anyone else!"

"Okay, alright, I believe you. I promise I believe you, just quiet down." Will put his hands on Horace's shoulders, squeezing them until he calmed down a bit more. He had stopped shaking, and his breathing was more regular, but the look of panic in his eyes had not disappeared.

I saw Alyss in the fire at Stamford. She reached out to me, too.

"Horace I believe you, I swear. I don't know why that happened, but we can't stay here. We need to back up and regroup, pull ourselves together. I saw things in their camp that I need to tell you about--"

"Welcome."

Will cursed silently and froze as a figure appeared over Horace's shoulder. It was a druid, one of the women he had seen sitting closest to the fire. She wore long loose white robes, had long dark hair, and an intricate tattoo on her collarbone, one he couldn't quite make out in the darkness. She had no weapons and didn't get too close to them. She had probably heard Horace's pained and panicked conversation with Will, and he sighed as he realized their cover had been irreparably blown.

Now he had to hope the druids would remain as peaceful as they were rumored to be. The King could have lied to them, he knew, allowing them to walk straight to their deaths. But at this point, his and Horace's only chance was the hope that the King's words were true.

Her next words brought a sense of both relief and fear. "We are honored to have visitors. Would you please accompany me to the fire so that you may witness our ceremony?"

So they aren't going to kill us... yet.

Horace still hadn't turned around, he just stared into Will's eyes and mouthed, I'm sorry. Will gave him an almost imperceptible nod, and then finally turned towards the woman.

"Who are you?" Will called out, his hand resting on the hilt of his saxe.

She only smiled, raising her hands in welcome, her robes billowing in the breeze. "I am Lewellyn. Come and dry yourselves next to the fire. We will perform a peaceful ceremony to bless you on your journey."

Horace's eyes were wide, and he was shaking his head at Will, mouthing, No, no, please, no.

This may be our only chance to be able to see this tribe and how they work, Will thought. It seems they are willing to welcome us so far. We may as well take advantage of it while we can.

"We would be honored to observe your ceremony," he said, stepping around Horace to follow her.

As they walked slowly through the dark forest after the woman, he heard Horace mutter under his breath, "I'd be honored to leave and never return, thanks very much."

Will subtly kicked him in the shin, shutting him up with a jerk of his head and Horace's responding hiss of pain.

"Right this way," the woman said as they entered the edge of the camp.

They followed her towards the flames. 

****************

A/N It's getting exciting now... If you have predictions I'd love to see if any of you can spoil the book before I even write it! Leave your thoughts here and I'll let you know if you're on the right track or not. 

Just a heads up:  I'm going to be entering this book AND my previous fanfiction, The Rogue Tribe, in the 2020 Watty Awards on July 13th! Please go and vote for me if you feel so inclined once voting opens. I'd really appreciate your support! 

Favorite kind of food? My go-to options are Japanese or Mexican.