Timber Ashwood's Arc

Chapter 2 of 2

Timber went back the next morning to walk the path Theron had marked toward the rise. He never reached it. A fresh notch stood two trees past the old one. The blight had crept out another few steps in the night, and the gray had swallowed his trail. Dead trunks blocked the gap he meant to slip through. He gripped his axe and stared. The way in was gone. He had to find another before the rot took more. Peach waited where he had left her, the cord still tied between their wrists. She had asked to walk with him after he learned her secret, the blackouts that stole whole days. He would not let her wander into the dead wood alone. She saw his face and read it fast. "Blocked," she said. Not a question. "The trail's dead," Timber said. "I need another way to the heart." She pulled a folded scrap from her top. Her grandmother's old map, worn soft. "Water," she said, and tapped a mark. "Stream runs down from the rise. Follow it up." Timber knew streams cut through anything. If one ran off the high ground, it would carve a gap the blight could not seal. He nodded and cut the cord to a longer lead so she could keep his pace. They left the gray trees and followed the sound of falling water. The stream widened into a lagoon below a tall falls. The water shimmered, pale and clean, throwing light onto the wet stones. Moss grew thick and green here, untouched by rot. Beyond the pool stood trees heavy with fruit in pink, purple, and colors he had no name for. This ground was alive. Timber knelt and pressed his palm to the moss. Warm. The blight had not reached it. "The stream comes from up there," he said, pointing past the falls to the higher rocks. "It runs straight off the rise. That's my way in." He had found it. A living path the sorcerer could not choke. Peach dipped her numb hand into the pool. She held it there a long moment. "Feels it," she said quietly. She flexed her fingers, and her eyes went wide. The healing water had touched the curse in her hands. Timber watched her face change. For the first time she looked at him without the guard up. "You found this," she said. "For both of us." "We camp here tonight," Timber said. "Rest. Then we climb the stream at first light." They built a fire on the stone bank. Peach sat close, her shoulder against his arm, and did not move away. But when Timber checked the water's edge, he saw a footprint pressed in the mud. Small. Bare. Heading up the stream toward the rise. It was Peach's boot size, but Peach wore boots, and both her boots were on. She had lost days before without knowing where she went. Something had walked this path already.