Caewen had been the first to squeeze herself out of the crevice. Now–standing in the sun–she rubbed her forehead in an absent sort of way, and managed to rub the red-stained soil from her fingertips into the sweat on her brow. Darkish red streaks of dirt appeared on her face. As she stood, looking around, the boy pointed out that she’d dirtied her face, but she only shrugged and smiled.
No matter how much they scanned the landscape, neither of them could see any sign of their companions.
“Perhaps they are resting behind the wall?” she suggested, but did not sound convinced.
“Could something have chased them off?”
“Maybe. But it would have to be quite something to chase off Dapplegrim. He’s not easily frightened.”
They walked uphill and towards the ruins together. But when they arrived, they still found no sign of the others. There were not even hoof prints–which seemed strange.
“Where are they?” The boy looked all around, and even circled the outside of the stone walls. He could see no signs of them.
“I don’t know. We can’t have been in the darkness very long, can we? Or were we? There was a shadow across my mind.”
“I definitely passed out for a time.” He squinted at the sun. It was lower in the sky. “I suppose we might have been unconscious for hours? Or days. Or what if it was weeks? Or months? Or even years?” Old stories about folks that made ill-advised visits to hollow hills and faer-places danced around in his head.
“I doubt we’ve been absent so very long.” Caewen gave him a wry smile. “Unless we happen to have come out of magical Faerye caves into the exact same season. The seed-fluff on the ghost-grass is just as white as it was; the leaves are the same hue; the clouds are the same scudding grey and white. No, it’s not been more than a few hours. Maybe less. The air seems cooler though.” She sounded more worried as she added: “And the others are not here. So, where are they?” She extended a hand into the air, and curled her fingers into an odd shape. With a quick bobbing gesture of her hand, she breathed out three words that the boy could not hear clearly, despite the sharpness in his senses. A small prick of sweat appeared on her brow, and her irises seemed to dilate a little, as if she had looked straight into a bright light.
Then she let her hand drop. She frowned. “I have called the fetch. He did not come. I can feel him: there is a thread between us now. I can even draw a little of his magic too. But–he is trapped, I think. Or too afraid to move.”
With great care, they picked a path back down the hill slope. Caewen started off towards the nearby stand of trees, but stopped before she had gone very far. Bending down, she ran a hand over the ground. “The earth here is cold. It’s almost frozen solid in patches. Like tundra in winter. And look here… and here too… some of the grasses have withered.”