No… it feels the same. Too quiet. Where has everything gone? What if it was like this everywhere? What if it wasn’t just the water? Lestan… what if it’s cursed?

Her voice barely rose above a whisper, her eyes locking with his for several long moments before she finally accepted the haunch he offered. She ate quickly, not wanting to slow them down more than necessary. As she chewed, the question gnawed at her: would food become scarce?

They hadn’t seen a single living thing—not even fish in the river.

If this emptiness stretched on for miles… what then?

Kirain tried to push the fear away. They would figure this out. They had to. That hope was her anchor.

Her gaze drifted toward the mountains in the distance, stirring memories of their earlier travels. She hadn’t enjoyed the confinement of the mountain paths and had felt immense relief when they’d finally emerged onto the open flatlands. Now, the thought of narrow trails and steep climbs made her grimace, but she wouldn’t falter. She would match Lestan’s pace. She would keep him safe.

Then came the thought of others, those who might still be living in the mountains. Her expression darkened.

How many were suffering? Were there sick or wounded in need of help?

And if they found them… would they even be able to help?

She didn’t know. And it was the not knowing that she hated most.

[for a time he did not answer. if it is c-cursed, then we must cleanse the l-land, lestan said in the voice of one who was far away. but their silences mingled now, and stretched, and worsened. hours now to the edge of the rise, and night coming fast despite the ability of the pair to set a fast path. i r-remember that we set — bayleaf and parsley on the w-water, b-but i do not remember the old prayers, i am sad to say. traveling beside the river afforded lestan constant access to wet ground where chamomile grew, but a new fear of its consumption was growing. suppose it too was absorbing poison; suppose the medicine which steadied his tongue also stilled his spirit? this would be just one more thing over which kirain would worry; lestan surrendered its mention without another thought. he needed the chamomile and so continued its harvest. darkness falling. he sighed and glanced to his wife. shall we go on through the night or stop? she appeared stricken, heartbroken; his own soul ached and he placed an arm around her wintry shoulders in soundless understanding. this they could not change. they must only make do with what they knew, and each information must be collected with care. for now, however, grief; grief for how swiftly the beginning had seemed to become an end.]

for a time he did not answer. if it is c-cursed, then we must cleanse the l-land, lestan said in the voice of one who was far away. but their silences mingled now, and stretched, and worsened. hours now to the edge of the rise, and night coming fast despite the ability of the pair to set a fast path. i r-remember that we set — bayleaf and parsley on the w-water, b-but i do not remember the old prayers, i am sad to say.
traveling beside the river afforded lestan constant access to wet ground where chamomile grew, but a new fear of its consumption was growing. suppose it too was absorbing poison; suppose the medicine which steadied his tongue also stilled his spirit?
this would be just one more thing over which kirain would worry; lestan surrendered its mention without another thought. he needed the chamomile and so continued its harvest.
darkness falling. he sighed and glanced to his wife. shall we go on through the night or stop? she appeared stricken, heartbroken; his own soul ached and he placed an arm around her wintry shoulders in soundless understanding.
this they could not change.
they must only make do with what they knew, and each information must be collected with care. for now, however, grief; grief for how swiftly the beginning had seemed to become an end.

I don't want to stop, Lestan. There’s still so much we don’t understand. Her voice trembled with quiet urgency. I keep thinking about who else might be suffering because of this. How am I supposed to sleep with all that hanging over me?

She leaned into his embrace, letting the warmth of his body anchor her spiraling thoughts. For a moment, she allowed herself to savor the comfort he offered—the steady thrum of his heartbeat, the quiet strength in his arms.

Her silver gaze lifted to his face, brows knitting with concern. How are you holding up? This is a lot. Are you sure you’re okay to keep going?

She pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, a fleeting gesture of affection, before turning her attention to the corrupted waters trickling nearby.

Cleanse the land.

The phrase echoed in her mind. But what would that truly take? Lestan had mentioned bayleaf and parsley, simple herbs with ancient weight. Would that be enough? Would prayers be needed too?

Prayer was foreign to her, some distant ritual she’d never learned. Were there sacred words? Specific rites? There was so much she didn’t know, so much to learn from her witchblood husband.