It wasn't long before the pathway was completely drowned in the thick mud of the forest floor. Once the college was out of sight behind us, it spread out, flattening and getting shallower until at last, beneath the strange lavender light of a pale lantern hanging from a tree branch, it split. Both routes seemed to lead down the same hill, only one was more meandering, switching back and forth and splitting further into little runoff gullies and trails that wandered off into nowhere, while the other carved a steep track straight down the slope and terminating at a wide pool of black water. I couldn't tell if it was black because of the darkness of night, or because of peat that might rest below its surface.

«He didn't say anything about a fork,» said Griffin. «Where do we go?»

I stepped a little closer to the lantern. It was a strange colour, unlike any fire I'd seen before, but it definitely had the flicker of an oil-burning lantern, though the glass was too covered in mildew and grime for me to see the flame. I wondered who lit it, if the scholars hadn't come this direction recently.

«Captain?» Griffin prodded, genuine fear creeping into their voice.

«Sorry,» I blinked and shook my head. The mystery of the lantern could wait, preferably until we had some sunlight. A distant rumble of thunder foretold an incoming storm from the north. I glanced down each way, conscious of the danger that extended wandering in these woods would bring, especially at night. «I'm thinking…left.» I gestured with a wing towards the straight and steep path.

Arthur shrugged. «Guess that's as good as—» He cut himself off and his eyes went wide as they glanced at the space above me. «Belfry, watch out!»

I ducked away from the tree the lantern hung from on instinct. The next moment, a dark shape fell from the tree with a loud hiss, writhing as it hit the ground. It was clearly a snake, only it was grievously injured. Its body was flattened out like it had been smashed and kept crawling afterwards, and its ribs were visible from lesions where its scales were missing. When it hissed, purplish-black vapour issued from its mouth.

As soon as the thing righted itself and hissed once again, exposing its mismatched pair of broken fangs, Brand pounced like a cat, crushing the beast's head beneath her hands. Its body wriggled a few seconds more before it went still, though I kept watching it just in case. It had an odd smell, one that reminded me of the deacons and cadavers.

Griffin got a little closer, leaning their head down to sniff the corpse. «What's wrong with this thing?» they muttered. «It's like it's rotten. But it's still alive.»

«We stopped in the weald on our way to the academy,» said Arthur. «It wasn't pleasant then. Whatever happened has had weeks to fester since our visit.»

«It was the swamp part that we stopped in,» I pointed out. «That thing smells like the deacons, though.»

Griffin sniffed again and furrowed their brow. «You're right. What does that mean?»

Brand stamped her foot and jerked her head towards the path. "Doesn't matter," she said.

I nodded. «She's right. Whatever it is, we can discuss it back at the castle, but we need to keep moving if we want to make it home before sunrise.»

Leaving the snake behind us, I took the path down the hill. When we got closer, I could clearly see that the water was just as foul as the swamp, with skittering insects and bizarre centipedes creeping over rocks just shallow enough that their backs rose above the surface. At the very least, it wasn't terribly wide. I was able to jump across with a single beat of my wings, landing with enough force that I skidded several feet across the mud on the other side.

«Don't touch the pond,» I warned the others. «It might be poisonous.»

Griffin and Brand glanced at the water suspiciously, but followed instructions after Arthur took the lead. Safely across, we could continue down the path ahead, where it rose over a small bump in the terrain before continuing its descent. I stopped at the bump. It felt like the shadows ran a cold finger down my spine, giving me enough anxiety to look back.

Something splashed in the pool. Something big, but too quick for me to see what.

I hurried after the others.

The path kept on straight ahead, until it suddenly didn't. Once again it branched and branched again, only this time the branches didn't lead anywhere at all, dying out in dead ends at tree stumps or overturned lamp posts. It was clear that this was once a track that saw real traffic, but those days were long past, it seemed. The cart ruts were buried beneath several inches of mud.

Soon, the rain arrived, and the walk became even more miserable. Thankfully we hadn't brought our shifting robes, but the four of us still had bags of supplies that were thoroughly soaked as soon as the downpour started. Lightning flashed continuously overhead, and thunder held a persistent low growl until it suddenly crescendoed with a great crash as a bolt struck nearby.

As we rounded the top of a hill, lightning lanced down only a few hundred feet away, hitting the top of a dead tree so hard there was a blast of debris and sparks as the tree's bark gave way and exploded. Everyone jumped at the flash of light and sharp crack of thunder, but Griffin suddenly crouched low and let out a whimpering sound.

«Whoa, whoa, hey,» said Arthur. «It's alright. No one's hurt.»

"Hrr…" Griffin growled aloud. «Sorry. Sorry.»

«Just breathe,» Arthur assured them.

I held my hand out so they could lean on it as they slowly got to their feet. «I didn't think you were scared of thunder,» I thought out loud. I hadn't entirely realised that my thoughts projected until Arthur shot me a dirty look.

«It's not. I mean, thunder, I'm not scared—» Griffin clenched their claws into the mud and grit their teeth. «I…I…so loud….»

Brand marched up to the top of the hill next to us and scanned the land around before walking back down to us. "House ahead," she said. "We can take shelter. Rest."

«No,» protested Griffin, shakily pushing Arthur and me away. «We don't, I mean, I don't need—»

«We've been walking for a while,» I said, cutting them off before they could stammer any more. «We could use a short break out of the rain. Don't be foolish. Come on.» I went ahead without waiting for any more protest, and when I looked back, Griffin was following behind beside Arthur.

The "house" Brand had seen was more of a shack. It was barely even that; with only three walls and a tilted roof, it would have been appropriate to describe it as a "slightly fancier lean-to". Still, the mouldering wooden planks kept most of the rain out, and the space inside was just big enough that the four of us could all fit if we curled up in circles like big cats. The path led right by it before curving to the left again and going up another hill, where I could see the outline of a second shed through the shroud of rain. To our right was a much larger and deeper-looking pond, still not nearly enough to be a lake, but large enough that the rotten wooden boat next to the building and the spear and boxes of twine and metal hooks in the corner made sense, although none of them seemed to have been touched in years.

I stopped just outside the shed to stare at the pond while the others hurried in and shook themselves dry. I had a prickling feeling on the back of my neck when I looked out at the water, but with visibility limited in the weather and the raindrops stirring up the surface enough to disguise ripples that might give away the position of anything dangerous, it was a fruitless effort to try and identify whatever I was sensing. Still, I stayed close enough to the edge of the roof that I could keep an eye out in case something came for us.

«Can you talk now, Griffin?» asked Arthur.

«I, uh, I think,» they answered hesitantly. «Sorry. It's hard to focus. When I'm so anxious, it's hard to focus on talking.»

«Is that what it is?» I asked. «Anxiousness?»

«Partly…» said Griffin. They pulled their tail tighter against their body, seeming hesitant even to continue this conversation. «It's just so loud. Hard to think. And then, when I do think out here, in this weather, I just remember bad memories.»

«Memories…of a storm?» I guessed.

Arthur glared at me. «If it's bad, they probably don't want to talk about it,» he hissed.

«I can answer,» said Griffin. «I should answer, by now. You have a right to know. Because there might be people after me.»

That got Arthur's attention. «People? As in, the watch?»

Griffin sighed and buried their nose in the ground between their hands. «Maybe. Or bounty hunters. Because, before I left home, I…I ki—mmph.» They squeezed their eyes shut, struggling to get the words out. «I killed my parents.»

None of us spoke. I was too busy trying to think of something to say to even gauge what the other two might be thinking. This was Griffin, there had to be a good reason, I knew that much.

"Why?" Brand finally asked, her voice riding a razor-thin line between inquisitive and accusatory.

«I ran away,» said Griffin. «I get overwhelmed by noise. And they yelled at me, I didn't meet the quota for finished lumber that week. So I left. But it was stormy, and dark, and cold. The Rosanloc Shelf is hilly, and I fell down into a thorn patch and cut myself up really badly. I probably would have died from blood loss. But I found a box in a tree hollow. A wooden box, and there was a red gem in it. That's how I….» They weakly gestured at themself.

«I don't come from a big town. There aren't any dragons there. And, and I didn't know how to turn back. I didn't know how to talk. So when I went home, Mama and Papa, they…. I think they thought I was a monster. And they hurt me, and then, I just, I couldn't think straight. There was red. And pain. And then they were dead, and I had to leave.»

They shivered, and I couldn't tell whether it was from the chilling rain or the horrible memory they were describing. They rubbed at their eye as though tears would come, but none did. Brand loomed over them, her face a mixture of pity and hardened resolve.

"That seems like the Fiend got to you," she said. "You're lucky you didn't become a demon right there."

«Saints' blood, Brand, can't you see this isn't the time to worry about that?» I snarled, utterly shocked at her brazen flippancy.

"This is a pattern with them!" Brand retorted. "They allowed the Fiend in at the church, and they let it kill people in their home! They may not have much time left!"

«Clearly, they haven't lost control,» I snapped. «Maybe if you actually paid attention to any of us, you'd know that. Why is everything you say about the Fiend? It feels like it's all you think about!»

Brand took a few steps back, not caring much that she left the shelter of the shed. "I think often," she said. "This isn't a threat to be idle about. I've seen the damage a demon can do, to their friends, and to strangers. I don't want them to go through the pain of hurting those they love again!"

«They won't,» I insisted. «They've handled it until now, they can handle—»

«Stop! Yelling!» Griffin screamed. I glanced to see their head against the ground and their hands over their ears. Arthur leaned next to them, glaring up at the two of us.

Brand lowered her wings that had begun to arch up in an aggressive pose, and I did the same. "Sorry," she said.

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«I'm sorry, too,» I echoed. I was suddenly conscious of my anger, and fought hard to push it away. «But you shouldn't have to still be berating yourself over this. You didn't have any control.»

«I should have,» Griffin mumbled. «I should have been used to it by then.»

Arthur's face immediately screwed up with dread. «What do you mean "used to it"? You said you were attacked.»

Griffin squirmed in sudden discomfort. «Well. I mean, they owned the lumber mill. So they were in charge of making sure we met the quota. And I lived with them. So I didn't have any excuses like the other workers. I guess I was more used to the birch than the knife Mama got that night. But still, I wish I had known better.»

I almost snarled again out of the anger that description stirred up in me. «Maybe they deserved it,» I spat.

Griffin looked horrified. «I don't think anyone deserves it,» they said. They rubbed at their eye again and let out a plaintive sigh. «I wish I could just cry for it….»

"Dragons don't cry," said Brand. "But we are still here with you."

She stretched her wing over Griffin's back, and Arthur and I followed suit until Griffin was completely sheltered beneath our wings. It was our version of a hug, and it seemed to help calm them down just as well as a human one.

«Thanks,» they whispered. «So that's it. Storms make me remember. And I hate to remember.» They pushed us away and got to their feet. «I should have told you all before. If they put a bounty on me for the murder, it's my fault if you get tied up in it.»

«If there's a bounty, we'll make sure you're safe,» said Arthur. «None of us would feel good if we let you get dragged off by hunters. Besides, you of all people don't deserve that. You're the nicest person in the whole flight.»

«But I—» Griffin started.

Brand nudged them with her wing. "They're right. You didn't know the Fiend existed then. You couldn't have known to fight it."

Griffin nodded, visibly struggling to accept that sentiment. «I guess.»

I stepped out of the shed, glancing up at the clouds. If anything, the rain had only grown heavier. It shrouded any hope of seeing moonlight, leaving us in pitch black darkness. «I hate to say this,» I said, «but I don't think the storm is letting up any time soon. We should go before it gets any later.»

«You're right,» said Griffin. They took a shuddering breath and walked out to join me, with the other two only a few steps behind. I could see them all shivering already. None of us were built for cold weather, and the Vale was getting colder every day. I found myself wishing I had fur rather than scales. At least then I would be warm.

Right before we set off on the track once again, there was a sound from the pond. A splash, then a series of grunts. I saw everyone else's ears prick up at the noise too. It came from the shore, less than a hundred feet away. I made sure the others saw the alarm in my face.

«I know we can see a little more than humans out here, but should we get some kind of light?» I said, concentrating my thoughts only on the group. «I'd rather risk being spotted than give whatever that was free reign in the dark.»

«Yeah. One second.» Griffin's mouth hung open before a small electric spark ignited a scarlet flame that trailed from the corners of their mouth, continuously burning without blowing out into the air. The fire shed as much light as a torch, casting the surrounding woods in dark reds and violets.

«Can you keep that up?» I asked. Griffin nodded confidently.

«Nice trick,» said Arthur. «Good enough to keep us from falling into a lake, too. Let's go.»

I could only see a little bit beyond the boundary of the light as we headed up the path once more. The next fishing shed looked as vacant as the first, but then there were more buildings. A handful of more residential-looking shacks flanked the trail as we climbed up a small hill towards the ruin of a windmill that loomed high overhead, steadfastly refusing to turn despite the weather.

As we neared the top, we heard more grunting ahead. I held my arm up to stop the others and squinted. I could see vague silhouettes in the darkness, but nothing concrete. They were certainly big, and they were moving about fifty feet away.

"What's 'at, Gob?" a voice said, barely audible over the storm. "Ya found somethin'?"

«A person?» whispered Arthur. «This place is abandoned!»

There was a loud creak of heavy metal moving. "Hey, 'ere's somethin' too," the voice said. "Filchers'll make good eatin'."

We only had a fraction of a second to figure out that the loud crack that came after wasn't another rumble of thunder. I leaped to the side, and Arthur and Griffin followed my lead. Only Brand was too slow. An iron cannonball flew out of the darkness and collided with Brand in the chest, toppling her over backwards and sending her rolling back down the hill.

«Gideon's breath, a cannon!?» Arthur shouted, no longer trying to be subtle.

There was a growl from up the hill, then whoever was talking shouted, "Quit your witchin' and die!" A clank of metal against metal signalled another cannonball sliding into place.

The first shot hadn't been fast enough to kill us on impact, but if we all ended up with broken bones in the woods in a storm, we'd be free food for any monster that came our way. I dashed forward towards the talking, lowering my head and then swinging it like a club, letting my horns contact the solid iron cannon. It was attached directly to the ground by wooden stakes, which my strike had no trouble snapping in two, flipping the gun over before it smacked into the muddy ground, the ball inside rolling out before sinking into a mud puddle.

I shook my head to clear the slight ringing in my ears from the impact and looked up at our attacker. The darkness hid his features, but when I closed the distance, he lit an oil lantern at his belt. It was a man, dressed in rural peasant's clothes, but with a distinct bestial cast to his features. His teeth were long and pointed as he growled back at me, and though his rumpled hat hid his eyes, his face was sallow and scaly. His hands were slightly too long, and his nails were partway through transforming into claws. He had a few tools attached to his belt, from which he grabbed a long iron cleaver and stood ready.

More frightening, though, was the monster behind him. It resembled a pig, only as big as me, and bulging with muscle like the most combative of bull cattle. Something in my blood recognised it as a predator the moment it laid eyes on me. The thing let out a loud, menacing squeal before lunging forward and bashing its head into my flank just as I had done to the cannon. The force was like a sledgehammer-wielding giant, forcing the air from my lungs and painfully wrenching all of my limbs as I was sent flying. I lifted my wings and managed to control my landing, skidding several feet across the mud.

«Hunting pig!» Arthur shouted. «We need to run!»

I retreated to where he and Griffin had run to help Brand up. «Where?» I said. «It's dark, and we're blocked on one side by water!»

«We need to get past it,» said Griffin. «Can we kill it?»

«Not without weapons or magic,» said Arthur. «Those things can fight two bears at once and win. Even if we did, we'd get badly hurt just trying.»

I watched the pig as it slipped into the gap of shadows between the man's lantern light and the light of Griffin's fire. My legs tensed, ready to try and dodge this time. «We don't need to kill it, we just need to avoid it,» I said. «I have a plan. Griffin, you're good with fire. Can you just do smoke?»

«I think so?» they said nervously.

«Good enough. You three stand to the side. I'll bait it and dodge. When it misses me, you need to blind it with smoke, Griffin.» I pushed towards the middle of the trail, preparing to leap into the air as the easiest way to dodge the incoming giant pig.

"No," said Brand. She shoved me out of the way. "I have a better plan. You can't dodge it."

I was about to retort, but decided that it wasn't the time and stepped away towards Arthur. As soon as the charging beast hit the light, Brand was on her hind legs, rearing up like a goat. As the pig threw its head, Brand's came down, smacking her bony crown against the beast's skull with a resounding crack. The force of the impact shoved Brand back several feet but the pig's charge was stopped dead as it fell to the ground, blood pouring from its forehead as it tried and failed to stand.

"It's stopped," said Brand, shaking her head. "Go now!"

The light of the fire died as it was replaced by thick black smoke with a hiss. The pig squealed as the hot fumes blew over its face, and all four of us took that as the sign to run. The man at the top was still holding his cleaver, squinting down at where our light had vanished. As we hurtled past him, I swung my tail, bashing him to the ground and smashing his lantern. I felt some of my poisonous spines come loose in the blow, and was sure he'd die soon.

The trail led directly to the door of the ruined windmill as though it was expected for visitors to walk through the building on there way to the road's destination. The millstone was on a half-rotten wooden floor above us, as we crowded into the large circular basement and slammed the door behind us. The room was empty, save for some extremely unnerving shed snake skins and another door opposite the one we entered through.

«Okay, what in the Pits was that?» I shouted once I was sure we were safe.

«It's a hunting pig,» said Arthur. «Uh, giant breed of pig, obviously. They use them to hunt burrowing monsters on the moor, and I've heard some people have them as guard animals. They're vicious. I'm surprised you're strong enough to take one down in a single hit like that, Brand.»

For once, a hint of a prideful smile crossed her face, though it quickly turned back to pain as she felt her chest. "I haven't met anything I can't hit until it falls," she said, the barely distinguishable vowels of her Draconic speech slurring together as she fought to keep the pain in.

«Let me take a look at that,» I said, hurrying to her side. «You might have broken ribs.»

She grunted, leaning away. "I'm fine."

«Not if you have broken ribs, you're not,» I said. «Our wing muscles attach at the chest. If you've got a broken rib, flying might hurt you even more. At least let me check.» Brand grunted in annoyance, but moved her hand away, letting me feel for her injury.

Arthur tilted his head. «Did any of you notice how weak the cannonball was?» he asked.

"I did," said Brand.

«Yeah,» I agreed. «I think they were only using half powder, and thank the saints for that, otherwise you'd have had a hole in your chest, Brand, and not just injured ribs.»

«Where did that man come from?» Griffin whispered aloud. They crept back towards the door, putting their ear against the wood as though the man's dying breaths would answer their question.

«No idea,» I said. «But he had the same curse as those people in the Old Quarter. He was already growing claws.» I patted Brand's shoulder. «I think you're good,» I said. «Feels like you might have a small fracture, but not enough that it's too serious. Your muscles took most of the damage, but that'll heal. Which is good, because I don't have any tonic.»

Brand nodded, managing to avoid seeming smug. "I thought so."

Where they stood next to the door, Griffin's brow furrowed. «Uh, I think the pig is—» Their eyes suddenly went wide and they leaped away from the door. «Run!»

They barely had time to get that out before the entire wall behind them came crashing down. The form of the pig, still bleeding and clearly running on pure rage, burst through the shattered bits of rubble, squealing a shrill sound I never thought I would find so terrifying. I didn't know who screamed first, but none of the four of us could hold it in once the others started.

Griffin planted their feet and took a deep breath. Their gills flexed and emitted sparks before a cacophonous blast of lightning shot from their mouth, striking the remaining door and blasting it into splinters. «Come on!» they insisted as the pig scraped the ground, making ready for another charge. «Move!»

We followed with the monster right on our tails. It didn't stop for the wall again, the stones barely slowing it down as it plowed right into them. It breathed hard, staring at us. I looked back at the path, seeing more shacks ahead as it sloped back down the hill. The pond was still to our left when we faced the mill, as far as I could tell in the dark.

"Where!?" Brand demanded.

The pig thrashed its head as it pulled itself through the stone wall of the mill, breaking even more stones loose. Then stones began to fall from above it, where it didn't even touch. The impacts irritated the enraged pig enough that it bucked, smashing another hole in the wall, and the mill visibly listed towards us.

«Ah!» I shouted. «Left! This way, hurry!»

I darted to the side, and thankfully the others followed. Off the path, we were immediately met with uneven stones, thicker mud, and tangled brambles that thankfully couldn't pierce our scales.

The pig squealed again, kicking its legs back before charging again. Just as it began to move, some key piece of the mill gave way, and the colossal wood and cloth sails overhead plummeted as it collapsed, burying the pig in the rubble right before it could escape. The huge cloud of dust was immediately dispersed by the storm, and the debris settled almost as quickly as it took it to fall, stopping less than twenty feet away from where we now stood.

«Do you think that did it?» Griffin asked nervously.

Snorts and grunts came from under the rocks, and my jaw dropped as I saw them begin to shift. «That's impossible!»

«I told you, they're tough!» said Arthur. «What now? Do we stop and fight?»

I shook my head frantically. «I didn't bring weapons or tonic! And with the rain, your fire breath won't be as useful!»

"Lightning!" said Brand, jerking her head at Griffin.

Griffin looked strained, and for a brief second more sparks flickered out of their gills before they let out a heavy breath, and the slits closed, the glow fading. «I feel like I'm out,» they said.

«So fly!» I shouted urgently as the pig finally pulled itself free of the rocks. I beat my wings hard to get into the air as fast as possible. They smacked into every single branch on the way up, but I made it, and angled towards the pond. «Over the water! It can't swim as fast as it runs!»

Despite the cramped conditions, the others were able to follow. The pig barely missed Brand's tail as she climbed, but once we were all airborne, all it could do was angrily squeal into the stormy night as we flew away.

The icy rain lashed my wings with every flap, and I still couldn't shake the fear that had taken hold of me as long as I heard that thing's noises. The black, murky water of the pond below us didn't help either. All it did was make it feel like we were flying through a ceaseless void. Soon, though, we reached the other shore. Out of caution, I pressed on, leading the others higher over the treetops, and kept flying. We went for a good ten minutes more, until the pig's enraged cries were long gone behind us. I saw a gap in the canopy, and took the opportunity, dipping down to settle on a knoll covered in the remains of a wooden fence.

«Did we make it?» asked Griffin, out of breath. «Are we safe?»

I glanced behind us, and saw nothing out of the ordinary in the dark expanse of forest. «I think so,» I said. «I doubt it'll be able to find us here.»

Griffin followed my gaze, worry coming over their face. «That's good. But can we find us here? We went off the path.»

«Well we have a landmark,» said Arthur. I went to look at him quizzically, but instead my eyes found what he was pointing at. There before us, in a little tree-less valley between the hills, where little rain-fed creeks washed into a great well, was a tiny hamlet, lit by a multitude of flames. It would have been a quaint sight, a piece of peace in the contaminated, scornful marshlands, if only the flames were welcoming.

But the fires weren't flames of celebration, or even of guidance. They were flames of sacrifice. At the lowest point of the village, in a small field, a pile of wood was ignited, letting off great clouds of steam. The fire burned fast and hot, and it reached up towards a large stake was embedded in the pile, with a person tied to it, all while the frightful silhouettes of villagers danced around the pyre, casting demonic shadows on the hills and buildings around them.

Griffin looked sick at the sight. «What in the holy name…» they muttered.

I tried to keep the fear off my face as I stared at the fire. «Looks like we found the thieves.»

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