Author's Note: I have realized that I never actually said when this story took place. So, it would be sometime between The Siege of Macindaw and The Kings of Clonmel.

"What is it?"

"I'm entirely sure but I've got a suspicion."

"Mind sharing yer suspicion?"

"I'd rather not. At least not until I'm completely sure."

Will set down the green rock on the table in front of him. The inn was surprisingly quiet that night though he was grateful for it. His thoughts were racing as to what the discovery meant. He wasn't sure if it was like the Stellatite rock but he was going to find out. The next day, he planned to ride out of Dynephous to Macindaw and stop in on Malcolm to see if he knew about this odd little stone.

"Jeez Will, you bin starin' at that thing fer hours," Kensy said after he had given one of the patrons their drink and meal.

Will just grunted, not wanting to reveal to Kensy how important this could be in case it turned out to be nothing at all. He didn't want to get the man's hopes up, or his own. Even though the fragment of rock looked similar to the Stellatite, it wasn't the same, making Will wonder if the properties would be the same or different.

He retired early that night, determined to get an early start the next morning. He didn't want to be tired for the ride to Macindaw.

As he lay in his bed, Will's mind wandered back to Castle Araluen and Castle Redmont. Had Halt arrived back home safely? Had Alyss gone back yet? Was she safe? Did she miss him? He knew, for certain, that he missed her. Does Caleb ever miss Tahlee? The question came so suddenly that Will was shocked. He hadn't even considered the possibility. Did Caleb miss Tahlee? Did he miss his fiancée? Will assumed that he would but Caleb was not someone whose thoughts and motives were easily guessed.

Will did not sleep well that night and he woke up late instead of early. When he awoke to the sound of chatter and clatter downstairs, he mentally lectured himself. He had trained long enough under Halt to be able to wake up early and to go for days without sleep, though he always ended up cranky towards the end.

Deciding that there was nothing he could do about the crowds or his sleeping in, he got up and prepared himself to leave.

The inn was indeed very busy that morning as Will descended the stairs. Perhaps, with the crowds, he could sneak past Kensy and any questions the man might have. He didn't want to leave Kensy in the dark, nor desert the man, but he needed to get to Macindaw as soon as possible. Besides, there was still the risk of false hope. He didn't want to bring Kensy's hopes up only for them to come crashing down again.

Well, he'd been wrong. Kensy must have been an inn keeper for far longer than he let on because, even with the crowds, he still managed to spot Will as the ranger made his way to the door.

"'ey Will!" Will grimaced. His plans for sneaking out unnoticed were ruined.

Will stopped and turned away from the door, towards Kensy who, after a stern look at the regulars seated at the door, walked out from behind the bar and crossed the crowded room to Will.

"Where ya off to?" Kensy asked him, looking down at the smaller man.

"Macindaw," Will told him. He saw no point in lying now that he'd been caught. "I have a friend there who may be able to tell me about that rock I found."

"Good luck." Will looked at the man in surprise. He'd been convinced that Kensy would want to come along, desperate for anything that could tell him what had happened to his son. Kensy must have read the look on his face because he explained, "I've got too much ta do 'ere, manning the inn. I want ta go with ya but I can't just up n' leave."

Will nodded slowly, feeling guilty that he'd tried to purposely leave the man behind. "I'll come back once I've found out about it," he promised.

"You think yer friend will be able ta tell us anything?"

"I don't know," Will confessed. "but he's the only one I can think of or know of that would be able to."

The ride to Macindaw seemed to take longer than the ride to Dynephous had been. Maybe it was because Will was hopeful, yet dreading. What if Malcolm was unable to tell him anything? What if this was all a waste? What if he didn't get enough evidence in time to save Caleb's life? Or what if he'd already been convicted?

Those thoughts bounced around in his head the whole way to Grimsdell Wood. He slept little, only for a few hours when he set up camp that evening. As he lay watching the flames, he could have sworn that he saw figures dancing in the flames. Tiny figures, yet powerful all the same. When he awoke hours later and remembered the scene, he blamed it on his exhaustion, a trick of the light. Something, anything. But, even as he approached Grimsdell Wood the following day, he knew something was wrong.

It was quiet. Too quiet. It was autumn, but early autumn. He should have seen squirrels and there should have still been a trace of birdlife. But it was positively silent. Dismounting from Tug, he looked around, searching for any sign of any life at all but seeing nothing. He patted Tug's neck, though trying to reassure himself more than his companion. With one last look around, Will grabbed his bow and quiver –his knives already hidden away beneath his cloak- and headed off into the shadows of Grimsdell wood.

As Will made his slow way into the wood, skirting around brambles and bushes, he tried to remember the way to Malcolm's clearing. Occasionally, he would let out a whistle, hoping Shadow would hear.

He couldn't even begin to wonder how long he'd been trudging through the woods. Nothing looked familiar and the sun was starting to descend. He considered going back but, when he started to head back, nothing seemed familiar. He couldn't see anything that he remembered, even from a few minutes ago. Starting to get worried, he let out a couple more whistles hoping someone, anyone, would hear. Maybe one of the disfigured –though he hated to think of them as that- people Malcolm cared for would hear him.

Casting anxious glances up at the sky, he quickened his pace as much as possible, trying to find his way out of the woods. If he got out, he would spend the night at Macindaw and try again tomorrow. If he got out.

As the light started to die from the sky, Will found himself more and more often tripping over fallen branches and getting his cloak stuck on bushes. He hated to admit it, but he was starting to panic. He couldn't spend the night in Grimsdell. It wasn't that he was scared of the dark and he knew that the wood wasn't haunted but it still made him more nervous than he cared to think about.

He shouldn't have panicked. He knew he shouldn't have. At the crack of a branch behind him, a noise that sounded disturbingly like an insane laugh, he burst into a run. He ran, praying that he was running in the right direction. He wasn't.

He ran and ran, stumbling over roots and branches, unseen things tugging at his cloak. It was only a matter of time. A particularly high root caught his foot and he fell forward. He saw the rock coming at him as he fell. The last thing he was aware of before everything went dark was the sound of footsteps coming towards him. Then nothing.