Author: Hob Goodfellowe

The torch sputtered to life as the flame was coaxed, caught, and flared. It gave off a resinous smoke that looked more brown than grey. And it stung the boy’s eyes too. When he took the torch in his hands he had to blink and squint against the smoke. The instruction was clear enough: Caewen…

By the time Dapplegrim returned, Caewen was asleep again. The boy and Fleat tried as best they could to explain what had happened. The shadow-demon was unhelpful and only said, “Tssch. What needed to be done, was done,” and was afterwards silent. It now sat curled up in the nook of Caewen’s neck, the way…

It had been a wearying day, followed by a more wearying night. Although the boy did his best to keep his eyes open in the deepening evening, it was a struggle, and a struggle he eventually lost. He slept in a curled up ball, fitfully and uncomfortable, twisted inside his clothes and lying on the…

The boy retreated a few steps. He looked around and saw Fleat: the hobbe had moved off, and was now sitting alone on a tumbled piece of overgrown stone. Flourishes of stone leaves and living woodbine erupted around his feet. He looked pensive. The boy walked over. They exchanged glances and worried little expressions. “I…

The boy had been trying as best he could to follow the conversation. He glanced at Fleat, who was also listening, looking a bit confused, looking worried also. Though Fleat seemed to think it best to be tight-lipped and silent, the boy couldn’t help himself. He piped in. “Wait! Wait… Are you saying that you…

As the boy sat, watching, he thought about how it was strange to see Caewen like this. She was so full of will and force, now reduced down to this a shadow of herself. He even noticed small unheroic details that he had not seen before, which somehow made her seem all the more heroic….

By the time Dapplegrim returned, the boy had managed to get Caewen wrapped in a blanket. Fleat was dabbing water on her brow and whispering quiet words, whilst the boy looked on with worry. She was febrile to touch, the heat radiating off her flesh. Intermittently, waves of shivering passed up and down her body….

The late afternoon had long since got onto dusk, and the evening light was itself settling into shadows. She stood, uncertainly, whilst holding out a hand to steady herself against the steep hollow where she had been resting. The boy went to her and caught her other hand. Her grip felt weak, almost tenuous. “Caewen?”…

“There!” said the boy in a harsh whisper. As he pointed, he could see the tip of his own finger trembling. “I see it,” snarled Dapplegrim. “You’re eyesight has improved. And your hearing. How’d that happen then?” “Not sure,” he answered, with a shrug. He kept his eyes focused out into the darkness of the…