Will's dreams that night are strange ones. In them he is very tiny, and everything towers over him. He walks through the Abbey kitchens, where the noises are strange and alien, magnified to the point of deafening. Sora, with her glasses hiding her eyes and giving her face a bug-look, sweeps her paw at him, and Will, with a squeak of fright, cowers on the floor, preparing to be squashed into a paste. She must be fifty feet tall and she's moving closer.
"Don't hurt me."
"Monster!" Her voice is not like it should be, too deep and too angry.
"What?"
"Monster."
"No... I'm not... I'm just me, I'm just Will!"
"Monsters should be killed. They should not be allowed to live." She picks him up by the ear, dangling him by the sensitive skin. It feels like his scalp is going to rip away from his skull. He squirms and fights but it only makes it worse.
"Stop! That - that hurts." She drops him, and he falls and tries to scrabble away. No use.
She sings a song that she used to sing to the Dibbuns in the Abbey when they were too frightened to sleep. It is a song Sora sang to him sometimes. Her voice is wrong. It sounds too deep and it echoes. Everything about her is wrong, and he is a tiny fly pinned to the ground and all the time she is moving closer. He knows he should run but it is impossible.
She is holding a knife and she raises it and he can't move and she stabs towards him and he tries to run but his feet are frozen and she hurts him and hurts him and hurts him and his arm is on fire and-
---
"Will. Come on, you slob, wake up."
"Wha?" he asked groggily, eyes still squeezed shut. He couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming about, but the sweat on his back and face was cold, and slicked his fur down against his head. He didn't want to open his eyes, but someone slapped him lightly on the face. It wasn't really enough to merit a wince, but it was dragging him perilously towards awareness. "Piss off," he muttered.
"I'm not joking with you, kit, if you don't open your eyes, so help me, I'll pull your arm off--"
"I'm up, I'm up!" Will said, opening his eyes. He saw Oliver's face very close to his, looking worried. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Erskine said, backing away and smoothing down his unruly headfur, "I was just - well, you looked like you were going to start screaming in a minute. 'Sides, you were thrashing all over the place and that can hardly be comfortable."
"I was?"
"Indeed. Oh, and by the way, good morning."
"...Thanks..."
"We're going to have to keep moving, maybe we can find someone who can take care of your arm," Oliver said, carefully fastening the catches on his pack.
"It's fine. It doesn't hurt," Will lied.
"Tut, tut," Oliver said, "I was -raised- with stoics. I know all the tricks. If we can get someone to heal it, we will."
Will yawned. It was too much, so early in the morning. The sun was barely showing over the edge of the horizon, bathing the forest in a ghostly half-light, and the birds weren't even making noise. "What time is it?"
"I'd say four."
"In the -morning-?"
"Of course."
"Slave dri--" Will started to say, and then stopped. The memory of the actual slave drivers was sobering.
"Exactly. Let's go."
They walked through the forest with Will trying to ignore the growing uncomfortable burning in his arm, and also attempting to stave off sleep. For some reason, he was extremely tired and the walking only served to make him more narcoleptic. He found that he was nodding off where he stood and then snapping awake after bumping into a rock, or a tree, or Oliver. After the fifth time, the latter started to look at him with concern.
"I told you, I'm fine," Will insisted.
"Obviously," Oliver said blithely. "The fact that you're walking around like a child who sneaked into the ale casks, that's just, you know, a coincidence."
"Yes," he replied.
"Well, stay awake."
"I'm trying. Maybe if you hadn't woken me up so goddamn early?"
Oliver considered this, ears quirking from side to side. "You were dreaming, anyway. And it wasn't a nice dream from what I could see."
"I don't remember anything," Will said truthfully.
"You've had a busy couple of days, I suppose it's understandable..."
"Heh! 'A busy couple of days,' he says."
"Another gift of the Erskines is that of understatement."
"I--"
"Halt!" called an annoyed voice, "Who's trespassin', then?"
"A pair of weary travelers," Oliver said, arching his eyebrows comically at Will.
"Name?"
"Oliver Erskine."
"I'm Will Abbeymouse. Or Fieldmouse. Depending on which you like better?" Will said.
"We don't 'ppreciate rudeness 'round these 'ere parts. State yer business." While he spoke Will looked around for anyone visible, but the voice was hidden in the trees - wait. He saw, up in the heights of the leafy green branches, a plump form secreted. Nudging Oliver surreptitiously in the side, Will jerked his chin forward to indicate the presence of their "friend."
"The ferret told you," said Will, loudly, "We're traveling."
"A mouse an' a ferret, t'gether an' not fightin'? Odd, 'seedinly odd."
"I'm defanged," Oliver said flippantly.
"We don't 'ppreciate smart alecks, neither," said the voice.
"Oh, come off it," Will said, exasperated, "We can see you, why don't you show yourself?"
Something dropped to the ground with a thump. It was clothed in a baggy smock and pants that consisted of heavy cloth spangled in different shades of green, obviously meant for hiding in the trees. On closer inspection, the creature was not a squirrel, as Will had expected, but a remarkably chubby hedgehog. "G'day," the odd creature said.
"You have leaves stuck on your prickles," said Oliver.
"I did that on purp'se, young ferret," the hedgehog replied.
"Why?" Will asked.
"To not be seen!" the hedgehog said, voice scaling upwards, "'S camouflage, 'tis!"
"It doesn't work very well," Oliver said, kindly.
"I know that, young ferret!" the hedgehog snapped, "There's a few kinks in the system obv'ously, but I c'n work 'em out soon 'nough."
"I--" Will started, for the second time that morning, when he was interrupted again.
"Chester!" a shrill voice called, "Chester, are you in the trees ag'in?"
"No ma'am," the hedgehog, apparently named Chester, replied, instantly contrite.
"You're wearin' those silly clothes ag'in, Chester," the second voice, female, replied. A small, whip-thin female hedgehog emerged from under the bushes, wearing a respectable calico apron and solid blue dress, "You know what I think about those silly clothes," she said warningly.
"Aww, but Daisy-Mae," Chester attempted to begin, but she grabbed his ear and tugged his head downward. "If I hide I c'n shoot those pesky woodpigeons been eatin' our garden--"
"I told you once an' I'll tell you ag'in, I don't approve of 'em! An' harassin' passerby to boot? Chester, I'm disappointed in you."
"Sorry ma'am," Chester muttered. The little female hedgehog stood on tiptoes and boxed his ears. Will and Oliver watched, bemused, as the markedly larger Chester allowed miniscule Daisy-Mae to scold him like a little child.
"Are they... married?" Will whispered uncertainly to the ferret.
"Unfortunately, yes," Daisy-Mae said, "Although I don't know what motivates me to put up with this fool--"
"Now, Daisy, you know that ain't fair..."
"It's Daisy-Mae to you, and you can't even find anything by yourself--"
During this whole tirade, Will sat down on the forest floor in the cool grass, resting his feet. He felt very tired, as though all the energy had drained out of him along with the blood. He let his head loll forward, watching a small insect creeping across his shoe.
"Excuse me," Oliver broke in, arms folded across his chest. The ferret leaned casually against a tree. "If I may interrupt?"
"What is it, dear?" Daisy-Mae inquired, her attitude changing completely.
"Would either of you know someone who can stitch a wound? My friend here's been injured, and--"
"Of course I can," the tiny female hedgehog said, and rounded again on her husband. "Now would you look at that, Chester, you're keepin' me arguin' an' here's a poor wee boy with a gash on his arm."
"Me keepin' you arguin'?" Chester demanded, "You do perfectly fine on yer own."
"Excuse me?" Oliver repeated again.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Daisy-Mae said, instantly contrite, "Come, our home's not far off, and I'll have you fixed up neat as a button."
---
The two hedgehogs led them to a modest cottage in a clearing of the woods, surrounded by a white picket fence and a vegetable garden. It was built of whitewashed logs, and had billowing yellow curtains in the windows to keep out the worst of the breeze. Inside it was a riot of different colors and patterns, all as bright as possible, clashing horribly. Will didn't know where to focus first, and the combined effect gave him a bit of a headache.
It was quite cramped, only two rooms: kitchen and living area, and a smaller bedroom connected by a door with a rug covering the opening. Chester gestured for Oliver to sit at the main table with him.
Daisy-Mae seated Will on a small wicker chair with a flower-patterned cushion. It was over-stuffed, and he felt as though he was about to slide off onto the ground at any second. After making sure that he was settled as comfortably as possible, the hedgehog bustled over to the small coal burning stove in the corner, heating up a pot of water to a boil. Will slid the backpack from his shoulders and let it drop onto the clean swept dirt floor, and leaned his quarterstaff against the wall.
She dipped a sewing needle into it. Will remembered, vaguely, Brother Peter doing the same thing - to clean it, he'd said. Daisy-Mae squinted, and threaded a blue string carefully through the eye. She took a damp cloth in the other hand and stepped lightly across the floor to examine his arm. "Hmmmf... It's rather dirty."
"Sorry, we didn't really have much time to stop and clean it."
Oliver shot him a warning look over Daisy-Mae's shoulder, and Will shut his mouth. The ferret and Chester were sitting at the kitchen table, devouring slices of bread and cheese. Shaking her head and muttering "gluttony" under her breath, Daisy-Mae cleaned the dirt from his arm as carefully as possible. Will winced, squinting, knowing that his face must look quite comical indeed. Why couldn't he have been more stoic?
It took quite a while before the hedgehog was satisfied with her handiwork, and then she took up the needle, looking him sternly in the eye. "Now, this will hurt a little, don't squirm." With a practiced hand, she pinched the edge of the gash together and poked the needle through the flesh.
"Ah," Will said, "Aah. That's not good." It was very hard not to squirm, as she'd told him to. The needle moved in a looping down and up motion, meeting little resistance from the skin, though he cringed every time it pierced through the fur and downward. Finally, he just shut his eyes altogether.
"Hold still!" Daisy-Mae demanded.
"So," Oliver said, obviously trying to take Will's attention away from the sewing, "How long have you two lived here? It's rather far from any other dwellings."
"Yes, well, we always liked solitude, din't we, Daisy?"
"Hush, I'm tryin' to fix the boy's shoulder."
"Out of curiosity, have there been any other visitors around here?"
Chester thought a moment, then shook his head. "None that I seen. Why?"
Oliver shrugged expansively. "I'm just curious. Sometimes it's nice to meet other travelers on a pilgrimage. Exchange tales, and suchlike."
Will opened his eyes again as he realized that Daisy-Mae had finished. She snipped the thread neatly with a small pair of scissors, and tied a knot with fingers that were defter than they seemed at first glance. He craned his head, attempting to see the finished product. The careful, practiced stitches followed the slightly jagged line of the wound, but it was closed, and no new blood. "Thank you. Thank you very much," Will said, smiling.
"It's no problem, dear, I'm always glad to help-- Chester! That's enough for you!" Daisy-Mae snapped, hurrying over and snatching the remaining bread from her husband's hands, "You're goin' to get fat at the rate you're eatin'!"
Will rolled his eyes - to his and probably everyone else's point of view, Chester was quite plump already.
Oliver stood up, and bowed to Daisy-Mae. "Thank you for the food, Marm."
"We'd ask you boys to stay the night," Daisy-Mae said, "Only, we don't have the room."
"That's fine," Will said, getting to his feet, "I feel much better." In truth, he still felt quite tired, but well enough to continue on their trek.
---
They said their goodbyes to Chester and his wife, who gave them some extra food for the trip, and set out on the path again. They walked in relative silence for an hour or two, enjoying the calm after a rather hectic couple of days. Will found that his feet were beginning to fall into an easy loping stride, a movement that conserved energy and carried him forward with a renewed force.
There was a soft sound in the distance, and he paused, turning his head towards the noise. "D' you hear water, Oliver?"
"...Now that you mention it, yes," Oliver agreed.
"It must be the Inland Lake!" Will said, "I've read about it in the old chronicles, but I don't think anyone from the Abbey's ever been here before. Let's go off the path and take a look."
"Sure... It's not like we're hurrying anywhere, right?"
"Exactly."
They left the Southern Path and cut through the trees towards the gentle sound of lapping water. Oliver continued talking as they went. "Did you know, it's supposed to be bottomless?"
"That's rather idiotic," Will snorted, "That's like that old northern myth that there's a cavern underneath the world."
"Hm. I think that one's from even father north than -I- am. Probably a bit to the east, too."
"Well, there's supposed to be a cavern underneath the world, where the trickster god's tied by intestines to a rock... And there's a snake above him, dripping poison into his eyes. And his wife holds a bowl, but when it fills up, she has to empty it and the poison drips in his eyes, and then when he squirms, the earth shakes - but what I meant to say was, there can't -be- a cavern under the world, because then what's under the cavern?"
"I think that's the most I've heard you say this entire trip."
"I like stories."
"...I can tell," Oliver said, and squinted through the trees. "Hey! I think I can see a glint of water. We must be close."
"...Wow," Will said, when they emerged from the woods on the lakeside. The water stretched almost as far as his eye could see. It wasn't an ocean, but there was a substantially sized island in the distance, and a haze hang over the vista, adding a mysterious air. "It's beautiful."
"It's nice," said Oliver nonchalantly.
"Do you have at least one romantic bone left in that mess of cynicism?"
Oliver shrugged, and looked out at the water again. "Let me think... No."
The shoreline was rather rocky, and a peninsula of larger stones extended into the water. Will put his things down on the grass and hopped out onto one of them, moving out towards the dark loch.
"Careful, kit - if you slip, I'm not jumping in to pull you out."
"Why not?"
Oliver shuddered. "I'm not fond of water."
"But surely, you bath?"
"Fine. Fine. I'm not fond of large amounts of water."
"Really," Will said, grinning, "The fearless warrior, afraid of a bit--" here, he leaned over and splashed some water at Oliver, "Of water?"
"Stop that, that's not funny," the ferret grumbled.
"Well, I think it's lovely," said Will, looking out at the lake again. "The water's probably all cold, though... Oh well." He crawled back along the rocks, trying his best not to fall in - he'd accidentally dropped into the Abbey pond enough times to appreciate not repeating the experience. "Back to the road, or should we hang around here for a bit?"
"We can skirt around the lake if you like. As long as I don't have to go in."
"Actually... Can we stop and eat? I'm starving."
Oliver rolled his eyes. "Why do I bother trying to agree with you?"
Despite his grumbling, they were sitting down to eat when loud yells broke the quiet of the area. A group of small creatures, maybe five feet high, stampeded into the area, many of them carrying weapons, and two carrying a net weighted with rocks. "What the fuck?" Oliver exclaimed, jumping to his feet, and attempting to draw his sword. Unfortunately, he was too slow, because the net was already entangling his limbs, and he fell in a heap of twisted string and fur.
One of the creatures - a shrew - clubbed him over the head, and he stopped moving.
Will stood, shocked and somewhat surprised by the efficiency of the little animals. "What the hell did you do that for?" he demanded, as they didn't seem to be attacking him.
"We just rescued you from an evil vermin," one of them replied placidly.
"But he's not e--" Will tried to say, but the shrews formed a crew, grabbed hold of the ferret, and vanished into the trees, "--vil."
The irony of the situation was striking. He was going to have to rescue his friend, a ferret, from shrews, who were generally considered to be decent, law abiding folk, if somewhat quarrelsome. He looked around the empty clearing, and sighed. "Fuck it. Looks like I'm going to have to play hero..."
"Don't hurt me."
"Monster!" Her voice is not like it should be, too deep and too angry.
"What?"
"Monster."
"No... I'm not... I'm just me, I'm just Will!"
"Monsters should be killed. They should not be allowed to live." She picks him up by the ear, dangling him by the sensitive skin. It feels like his scalp is going to rip away from his skull. He squirms and fights but it only makes it worse.
"Stop! That - that hurts." She drops him, and he falls and tries to scrabble away. No use.
She sings a song that she used to sing to the Dibbuns in the Abbey when they were too frightened to sleep. It is a song Sora sang to him sometimes. Her voice is wrong. It sounds too deep and it echoes. Everything about her is wrong, and he is a tiny fly pinned to the ground and all the time she is moving closer. He knows he should run but it is impossible.
She is holding a knife and she raises it and he can't move and she stabs towards him and he tries to run but his feet are frozen and she hurts him and hurts him and hurts him and his arm is on fire and-
---
"Will. Come on, you slob, wake up."
"Wha?" he asked groggily, eyes still squeezed shut. He couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming about, but the sweat on his back and face was cold, and slicked his fur down against his head. He didn't want to open his eyes, but someone slapped him lightly on the face. It wasn't really enough to merit a wince, but it was dragging him perilously towards awareness. "Piss off," he muttered.
"I'm not joking with you, kit, if you don't open your eyes, so help me, I'll pull your arm off--"
"I'm up, I'm up!" Will said, opening his eyes. He saw Oliver's face very close to his, looking worried. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," Erskine said, backing away and smoothing down his unruly headfur, "I was just - well, you looked like you were going to start screaming in a minute. 'Sides, you were thrashing all over the place and that can hardly be comfortable."
"I was?"
"Indeed. Oh, and by the way, good morning."
"...Thanks..."
"We're going to have to keep moving, maybe we can find someone who can take care of your arm," Oliver said, carefully fastening the catches on his pack.
"It's fine. It doesn't hurt," Will lied.
"Tut, tut," Oliver said, "I was -raised- with stoics. I know all the tricks. If we can get someone to heal it, we will."
Will yawned. It was too much, so early in the morning. The sun was barely showing over the edge of the horizon, bathing the forest in a ghostly half-light, and the birds weren't even making noise. "What time is it?"
"I'd say four."
"In the -morning-?"
"Of course."
"Slave dri--" Will started to say, and then stopped. The memory of the actual slave drivers was sobering.
"Exactly. Let's go."
They walked through the forest with Will trying to ignore the growing uncomfortable burning in his arm, and also attempting to stave off sleep. For some reason, he was extremely tired and the walking only served to make him more narcoleptic. He found that he was nodding off where he stood and then snapping awake after bumping into a rock, or a tree, or Oliver. After the fifth time, the latter started to look at him with concern.
"I told you, I'm fine," Will insisted.
"Obviously," Oliver said blithely. "The fact that you're walking around like a child who sneaked into the ale casks, that's just, you know, a coincidence."
"Yes," he replied.
"Well, stay awake."
"I'm trying. Maybe if you hadn't woken me up so goddamn early?"
Oliver considered this, ears quirking from side to side. "You were dreaming, anyway. And it wasn't a nice dream from what I could see."
"I don't remember anything," Will said truthfully.
"You've had a busy couple of days, I suppose it's understandable..."
"Heh! 'A busy couple of days,' he says."
"Another gift of the Erskines is that of understatement."
"I--"
"Halt!" called an annoyed voice, "Who's trespassin', then?"
"A pair of weary travelers," Oliver said, arching his eyebrows comically at Will.
"Name?"
"Oliver Erskine."
"I'm Will Abbeymouse. Or Fieldmouse. Depending on which you like better?" Will said.
"We don't 'ppreciate rudeness 'round these 'ere parts. State yer business." While he spoke Will looked around for anyone visible, but the voice was hidden in the trees - wait. He saw, up in the heights of the leafy green branches, a plump form secreted. Nudging Oliver surreptitiously in the side, Will jerked his chin forward to indicate the presence of their "friend."
"The ferret told you," said Will, loudly, "We're traveling."
"A mouse an' a ferret, t'gether an' not fightin'? Odd, 'seedinly odd."
"I'm defanged," Oliver said flippantly.
"We don't 'ppreciate smart alecks, neither," said the voice.
"Oh, come off it," Will said, exasperated, "We can see you, why don't you show yourself?"
Something dropped to the ground with a thump. It was clothed in a baggy smock and pants that consisted of heavy cloth spangled in different shades of green, obviously meant for hiding in the trees. On closer inspection, the creature was not a squirrel, as Will had expected, but a remarkably chubby hedgehog. "G'day," the odd creature said.
"You have leaves stuck on your prickles," said Oliver.
"I did that on purp'se, young ferret," the hedgehog replied.
"Why?" Will asked.
"To not be seen!" the hedgehog said, voice scaling upwards, "'S camouflage, 'tis!"
"It doesn't work very well," Oliver said, kindly.
"I know that, young ferret!" the hedgehog snapped, "There's a few kinks in the system obv'ously, but I c'n work 'em out soon 'nough."
"I--" Will started, for the second time that morning, when he was interrupted again.
"Chester!" a shrill voice called, "Chester, are you in the trees ag'in?"
"No ma'am," the hedgehog, apparently named Chester, replied, instantly contrite.
"You're wearin' those silly clothes ag'in, Chester," the second voice, female, replied. A small, whip-thin female hedgehog emerged from under the bushes, wearing a respectable calico apron and solid blue dress, "You know what I think about those silly clothes," she said warningly.
"Aww, but Daisy-Mae," Chester attempted to begin, but she grabbed his ear and tugged his head downward. "If I hide I c'n shoot those pesky woodpigeons been eatin' our garden--"
"I told you once an' I'll tell you ag'in, I don't approve of 'em! An' harassin' passerby to boot? Chester, I'm disappointed in you."
"Sorry ma'am," Chester muttered. The little female hedgehog stood on tiptoes and boxed his ears. Will and Oliver watched, bemused, as the markedly larger Chester allowed miniscule Daisy-Mae to scold him like a little child.
"Are they... married?" Will whispered uncertainly to the ferret.
"Unfortunately, yes," Daisy-Mae said, "Although I don't know what motivates me to put up with this fool--"
"Now, Daisy, you know that ain't fair..."
"It's Daisy-Mae to you, and you can't even find anything by yourself--"
During this whole tirade, Will sat down on the forest floor in the cool grass, resting his feet. He felt very tired, as though all the energy had drained out of him along with the blood. He let his head loll forward, watching a small insect creeping across his shoe.
"Excuse me," Oliver broke in, arms folded across his chest. The ferret leaned casually against a tree. "If I may interrupt?"
"What is it, dear?" Daisy-Mae inquired, her attitude changing completely.
"Would either of you know someone who can stitch a wound? My friend here's been injured, and--"
"Of course I can," the tiny female hedgehog said, and rounded again on her husband. "Now would you look at that, Chester, you're keepin' me arguin' an' here's a poor wee boy with a gash on his arm."
"Me keepin' you arguin'?" Chester demanded, "You do perfectly fine on yer own."
"Excuse me?" Oliver repeated again.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Daisy-Mae said, instantly contrite, "Come, our home's not far off, and I'll have you fixed up neat as a button."
---
The two hedgehogs led them to a modest cottage in a clearing of the woods, surrounded by a white picket fence and a vegetable garden. It was built of whitewashed logs, and had billowing yellow curtains in the windows to keep out the worst of the breeze. Inside it was a riot of different colors and patterns, all as bright as possible, clashing horribly. Will didn't know where to focus first, and the combined effect gave him a bit of a headache.
It was quite cramped, only two rooms: kitchen and living area, and a smaller bedroom connected by a door with a rug covering the opening. Chester gestured for Oliver to sit at the main table with him.
Daisy-Mae seated Will on a small wicker chair with a flower-patterned cushion. It was over-stuffed, and he felt as though he was about to slide off onto the ground at any second. After making sure that he was settled as comfortably as possible, the hedgehog bustled over to the small coal burning stove in the corner, heating up a pot of water to a boil. Will slid the backpack from his shoulders and let it drop onto the clean swept dirt floor, and leaned his quarterstaff against the wall.
She dipped a sewing needle into it. Will remembered, vaguely, Brother Peter doing the same thing - to clean it, he'd said. Daisy-Mae squinted, and threaded a blue string carefully through the eye. She took a damp cloth in the other hand and stepped lightly across the floor to examine his arm. "Hmmmf... It's rather dirty."
"Sorry, we didn't really have much time to stop and clean it."
Oliver shot him a warning look over Daisy-Mae's shoulder, and Will shut his mouth. The ferret and Chester were sitting at the kitchen table, devouring slices of bread and cheese. Shaking her head and muttering "gluttony" under her breath, Daisy-Mae cleaned the dirt from his arm as carefully as possible. Will winced, squinting, knowing that his face must look quite comical indeed. Why couldn't he have been more stoic?
It took quite a while before the hedgehog was satisfied with her handiwork, and then she took up the needle, looking him sternly in the eye. "Now, this will hurt a little, don't squirm." With a practiced hand, she pinched the edge of the gash together and poked the needle through the flesh.
"Ah," Will said, "Aah. That's not good." It was very hard not to squirm, as she'd told him to. The needle moved in a looping down and up motion, meeting little resistance from the skin, though he cringed every time it pierced through the fur and downward. Finally, he just shut his eyes altogether.
"Hold still!" Daisy-Mae demanded.
"So," Oliver said, obviously trying to take Will's attention away from the sewing, "How long have you two lived here? It's rather far from any other dwellings."
"Yes, well, we always liked solitude, din't we, Daisy?"
"Hush, I'm tryin' to fix the boy's shoulder."
"Out of curiosity, have there been any other visitors around here?"
Chester thought a moment, then shook his head. "None that I seen. Why?"
Oliver shrugged expansively. "I'm just curious. Sometimes it's nice to meet other travelers on a pilgrimage. Exchange tales, and suchlike."
Will opened his eyes again as he realized that Daisy-Mae had finished. She snipped the thread neatly with a small pair of scissors, and tied a knot with fingers that were defter than they seemed at first glance. He craned his head, attempting to see the finished product. The careful, practiced stitches followed the slightly jagged line of the wound, but it was closed, and no new blood. "Thank you. Thank you very much," Will said, smiling.
"It's no problem, dear, I'm always glad to help-- Chester! That's enough for you!" Daisy-Mae snapped, hurrying over and snatching the remaining bread from her husband's hands, "You're goin' to get fat at the rate you're eatin'!"
Will rolled his eyes - to his and probably everyone else's point of view, Chester was quite plump already.
Oliver stood up, and bowed to Daisy-Mae. "Thank you for the food, Marm."
"We'd ask you boys to stay the night," Daisy-Mae said, "Only, we don't have the room."
"That's fine," Will said, getting to his feet, "I feel much better." In truth, he still felt quite tired, but well enough to continue on their trek.
---
They said their goodbyes to Chester and his wife, who gave them some extra food for the trip, and set out on the path again. They walked in relative silence for an hour or two, enjoying the calm after a rather hectic couple of days. Will found that his feet were beginning to fall into an easy loping stride, a movement that conserved energy and carried him forward with a renewed force.
There was a soft sound in the distance, and he paused, turning his head towards the noise. "D' you hear water, Oliver?"
"...Now that you mention it, yes," Oliver agreed.
"It must be the Inland Lake!" Will said, "I've read about it in the old chronicles, but I don't think anyone from the Abbey's ever been here before. Let's go off the path and take a look."
"Sure... It's not like we're hurrying anywhere, right?"
"Exactly."
They left the Southern Path and cut through the trees towards the gentle sound of lapping water. Oliver continued talking as they went. "Did you know, it's supposed to be bottomless?"
"That's rather idiotic," Will snorted, "That's like that old northern myth that there's a cavern underneath the world."
"Hm. I think that one's from even father north than -I- am. Probably a bit to the east, too."
"Well, there's supposed to be a cavern underneath the world, where the trickster god's tied by intestines to a rock... And there's a snake above him, dripping poison into his eyes. And his wife holds a bowl, but when it fills up, she has to empty it and the poison drips in his eyes, and then when he squirms, the earth shakes - but what I meant to say was, there can't -be- a cavern under the world, because then what's under the cavern?"
"I think that's the most I've heard you say this entire trip."
"I like stories."
"...I can tell," Oliver said, and squinted through the trees. "Hey! I think I can see a glint of water. We must be close."
"...Wow," Will said, when they emerged from the woods on the lakeside. The water stretched almost as far as his eye could see. It wasn't an ocean, but there was a substantially sized island in the distance, and a haze hang over the vista, adding a mysterious air. "It's beautiful."
"It's nice," said Oliver nonchalantly.
"Do you have at least one romantic bone left in that mess of cynicism?"
Oliver shrugged, and looked out at the water again. "Let me think... No."
The shoreline was rather rocky, and a peninsula of larger stones extended into the water. Will put his things down on the grass and hopped out onto one of them, moving out towards the dark loch.
"Careful, kit - if you slip, I'm not jumping in to pull you out."
"Why not?"
Oliver shuddered. "I'm not fond of water."
"But surely, you bath?"
"Fine. Fine. I'm not fond of large amounts of water."
"Really," Will said, grinning, "The fearless warrior, afraid of a bit--" here, he leaned over and splashed some water at Oliver, "Of water?"
"Stop that, that's not funny," the ferret grumbled.
"Well, I think it's lovely," said Will, looking out at the lake again. "The water's probably all cold, though... Oh well." He crawled back along the rocks, trying his best not to fall in - he'd accidentally dropped into the Abbey pond enough times to appreciate not repeating the experience. "Back to the road, or should we hang around here for a bit?"
"We can skirt around the lake if you like. As long as I don't have to go in."
"Actually... Can we stop and eat? I'm starving."
Oliver rolled his eyes. "Why do I bother trying to agree with you?"
Despite his grumbling, they were sitting down to eat when loud yells broke the quiet of the area. A group of small creatures, maybe five feet high, stampeded into the area, many of them carrying weapons, and two carrying a net weighted with rocks. "What the fuck?" Oliver exclaimed, jumping to his feet, and attempting to draw his sword. Unfortunately, he was too slow, because the net was already entangling his limbs, and he fell in a heap of twisted string and fur.
One of the creatures - a shrew - clubbed him over the head, and he stopped moving.
Will stood, shocked and somewhat surprised by the efficiency of the little animals. "What the hell did you do that for?" he demanded, as they didn't seem to be attacking him.
"We just rescued you from an evil vermin," one of them replied placidly.
"But he's not e--" Will tried to say, but the shrews formed a crew, grabbed hold of the ferret, and vanished into the trees, "--vil."
The irony of the situation was striking. He was going to have to rescue his friend, a ferret, from shrews, who were generally considered to be decent, law abiding folk, if somewhat quarrelsome. He looked around the empty clearing, and sighed. "Fuck it. Looks like I'm going to have to play hero..."