After getting enough distance to feel safe from followers, Marhawet found a deep crevasse in the forest. The forests were full of them here, if you weren’t careful with your footing you could find yourself plunging down a ledge the height of a municipal building, completely concealed in deep forest brush. This one, however, was about ten feet deep and narrow enough to easily climb in and out of. It was already partially covered by the root system of a long-ago upturned cedar.

  It had to be late morning now, but little light spilled through the canopy. She had no idea how long she had been walking with the man strapped to her back. She was thankful for the coolness of the shade, but the insects in the forest seemed particularly drawn to Patsik and his weeks of sweat. The sound around her ears was maddening. She kicked herself for not thinking to ask Kesta for insect repellent. Smoke usually helped, but they were too early out to start a fire. Too close to the city still.

  She got a better look at the man, who was still mostly unconscious beside her. He had a narrow squared jaw and a long straight nose, both which seemed a bit too large for his scrawny body. She assumed he looked a bit more in balance two months ago when he was eating a humane diet. His hair was black and wiry, a bit shaggy, like it once looked neat, but now has the appearance of a beggar. He had a few wiry hairs sticking out of his chin, that looked so horrendous Marhawet almost wanted to pluck them out herself. An altogether pitiful creature.

  She peeked her head out of the crevasse and listened. If they were searching, they were not heading this direction. They would know she would head north, she figured. Best to head east out of the farmland that serviced the city and then double back to Kesta’s village before heading north. She could help them lose the trail. The detour would only be an extra day of travel, even with the former captive weighing her down.

  She heard movement from the councilor behind her, it seemed he was stirring. She had barely even turned to speak when she felt a wave of blazing green force coming towards her. Instinctively, she blocked it with the flat of her macana as it shot off towards the trunk of the upturned tree covering them.

  “For fucks sake!” she spat reflexively before realizing what kind of salty language was escaping her mouth in front of a high ranking government official. She gave a steadying breath and composed herself, “calm down!”

  The man’s eyes glittered with magic he released. “Who are you?” The words escaped his mouth as if they were intended to be a mighty roar, but his breath was unable to carry them that far. He collapsed again when his air ran out.

  “My name is Marhawet, I’m a member of the Enzalli.”

  “...what?” he muttered, shielding his vision from the searing streak of late morning sun that cut through the forest canopy.

  “The Enzalli?” she spoke a bit louder and more enunciated, as if talking to someone elderly. “I’m from Waracan. I’m here to take you home to the crescent kingdom.”

  She watched as a smile slowly stretched across his face, his eyes still hidden under his forearm, “Oh.”

  “Shit,” convinced he wasn’t going to attack her again, she turned her attention to the trunk he had struck with his magic, “that smoke must have done some job on you. You’re going to have to take care of that, you can’t just leave it festering here.” She inspected the wood, now molten at the contact point. She could see small tendrils of magic slowly seeping their way out through the fibers. Magic like theirs wasn’t supposed to leave a mark, she knew what would happen if it did. It could grow. She looked back and he appeared to be asleep again.

  She allowed him to sleep for another hour, but by the time the noon sun spilled into the canopy, she decided it was time to get moving.

  “Patsik,” she shot. He didn’t stir. She wondered briefly if she ought to be calling him by his official title, but that seemed overly formal for a man barely conscious. “Patsik,” she barked again, giving his shoulder a push this time. He jolted up. She didn’t wait for his response, “time to go. We need to keep moving.”

  He gave a small nod and began to slowly stir from the pile of yellowed pine needles he was sleeping in.

  “I’ll scout ahead a bit- make sure no ones in the direction we’re going. You take care of that corruption,” she motioned to the log, “and come up when I give the signal- okay?” She brought her fingers to her lips and gave a light fluttering bird call as a model. He nodded again, but she didn’t wait for his response before lifting herself out of the crevasse.

  She glided through the forest, trying to keep as low as she could, with her macana at her side in anticipation of a fight. But she heard no sounds other than the chittering of the forest. After a few minutes of running ahead, she turned back and made the signal. There was a moment of dread as the forest behind her remained as still as in front. But after a few minutes she saw Patsik pushing his way through. She gave a short sigh of relief and signaled him to follow.

  He was almost entirely silent the first few hours of their journey. She couldn't be surprised really, after the endeavor he went through. She wasn't even sure if he was fully aware of what was happening. They had yet to hold a full conversation. Selfishly, she wondered if she would get into some kind of trouble for dragging back an invalid instead of a powerful highborn. He seemed alert enough though, when she looked back, his eyes were darting around the forest floor, as if searching the ground for unseen enemies. Kesta had said he was gloomy, maybe this was just his disposition. She noted he was surprisingly nimble for his condition. Marhawet found herself constantly lumbering through spiderwebs and stumbling over roots, but he was able to dodge them all. She was the one forging the path, though. She was glad that it seemed, at least physically, he didn't need too much rehabilitation.

  She wanted terribly to ask him about what had happened, the circumstances which brought him there, but she waited for this to speak first. Soldiers didn't initiate small talk with high ranking officials. She knew that much at least.

  "Where are we going?" He asked finally, after a few hours of walking in silence.

  "They'll be expecting us to head north into the mountains. We're going east first and ascending from there." He didn't respond, so she took it as an opportunity to press further, "do you think there will be many after us? How many guarded you? We don't quite know the specs of the Tanetzlan military." She looked back at him.

  "Perhaps many," he responded with an air of hesitation.

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  "I feared as much." She turned back to the path she had been forging, "we'll have to move quickly then."

  She didn't expect him to say anything more, so it came as a surprise to her when she heard the voice speak up behind her, "they sent only one soldier?"

  Marhawet smirked, "a bit insulted they didn't break you out with a battalion?"

  “Honestly? Yes.”

  “No one wanted a whole political incident, not for one mage who went rogue.” She realized the last bit came out a bit harsher than she intended. She slowed her gate and looked back at him with a bit of an apologetic look. She couldn’t read the source of his scowl.

  “Was I...so disposable?” His expression seemed like a broad sort of confusion, as if he found the information enlightening rather than damning.

  “Not so disposable that they would just leave you here to fend for yourself.”

  “Right,” he muttered, again seeming to take no comfort in the words, as comfort did not appear to be needed. “We… were fools,” he muttered under his breath.

  She chuckled to herself, “I’m relieved that you’re such a pragmatist about it.”

  “How do you mean?”

  She shrugged. “Mages always seem to have their heads in the clouds. People say it makes them a bit…self involved.”

  “What people?” he shot.

  “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to offend,” Marhawet responded, realizing how insulting the comment came off and trying to quickly move past it.

  During the exchange, he had actually caught up with her, and was keeping pace beside her in the forest. She was glad to see him getting his energy back. She passed him her waterskin, and he took a long drink.

  “Are you a mage?” he asked, passing the flask back.

  “Do I look like a mage to you?” she snorted. He smiled sheepishly.

  “I didn’t know there was any particular way a mage should look.” He stated this flatly, as if earnest. She fought the urge to roll her eyes. Politicians, especially mages, always talked like this. Magic was supposed to be welcome to all people of the crescent moon, regardless of circumstance.

  “You’re right, I'm sorry.”

  He seemed puzzled by her response.

  “You’re a soldier?”

  “Yes…” she responded hesitantly. She resisted the urge to add ‘obviously.’

  “So tell me about that,” he shot, oddly brusque for a request at conversation.

  She looked at him a bit suspiciously.

  “Please," he sighed, "it’s been weeks since I’ve heard a familiar voice. Or any voice really. Talk about…home.”

  She replied with a soft smirk and obliged in the request. For another hour they walked. Marhawet was both surprised and pleased at the ease with which he was willing to talk with her. The conversation was focused squarely on her. So few people expressed interest in her work, her life, especially those in higher positions.

  After an entire afternoon of talking, she didn’t even realize that at the end she knew entirely less about him than he did of her.

  “Your parents seem…trying.”

  She snorted, “Well, you know, they mean well. It's just law enforcement is so different from the government, you know? But my mom always talks like she knows exactly what's going on. Like, my job is so different from tracking down some farmer making homebrew magic components…”

  “Sure.”

  The conversation lulled. She looked over at him with an encouraging smirk.

  “You know, you’re quite different than I expected.”

  By late afternoon they were already through the forest separating Taneztlan from the east, and were now walking through brush and farmland. The land opened up enough to be clearly visible from the north, a little longer and they would hook back in that direction, stopping in Kesta’s village at its base. They had earlier passed by a stream and Patsik had attempted to clean himself up. He washed his face and hair. Throughout the remainder of their afternoon walk, he seemed to be at constant war with the direction his hair was going. Everytime she looked back at him, he was pushing his hair back, but only a few moments of movement and at least half would come loose and fall forward again. Slicked back with spring water, he was believable as a mage councilor, but it seemed its natural state was to shoot forward and to the side and every direction except the one he wanted.

  “What were you expecting?” he responded, fighting with the fringe around his eyes.

  “Well first of all, you’re supposed to be the youngest councilor, right?”

  “Okay, ouch.”

  Marhawet laughed. “I’m just saying, I guess I was expecting…”

  “A waif?”

  She gave a sheepish shrug.

  “Well,” he sighed, “youngest is not as impressive a title as it sounds on paper.” he paused for a moment, “And my guess is you’ve seen the rest of the council.”

  She snorted in response.

  “There's that too.”

  “What?”

  “You have a sense of humor.”

  He gave an expression of feigned insult, “I didn’t think soldiers had a sense of humor either. They never did in my experience.” Marhawet just smirked. They were silent for a moment.

  “Mages don’t spend much time with regular people, I imagine. But you seem surprisingly down to earth.”

  “You certainly seem to think you know a lot about mages,” he hissed, not altogether spitefully.

  “Forgive me for presuming,” she said with a smirk. “My partner is a guard for the mage council. Pirul?”

  He gave a thoughtful nod. “Of course, he’s a fine warrior.”

  She tipped her head to the side, “she.”

  The color drained from his face.

  “It's fine,” she laughed, “I wouldn't expect a councilor to know their guards that well anyways.” He smiled sheepishly, but his expression still looked cagey. “It's obviously a woman's name though,” she added with a smirk.

  “Of course, I apologize.” He still seemed nervous, but she couldn’t figure out the cause. It would be silly for a councilor to be this broken up about simply forgetting the name of his guard. There was another beat of silence. Marhawet could feel his eyes shift to her and away again. “Well…” he started again, “I may not be entirely myself right now…please excuse me if I act...strangely.”

  She nodded. In the past few hours of chatting, it was easy to forget the ordeal he had just escaped. In fact she felt a pang of guilt that she had forgotten. It suddenly felt strange to her that someone could speak so easily after all that had happened.

  “What…did they do to you?” she asked finally, “Why did they capture you?” She looked back at him. He didn’t seem surprised by the question, but his expression was difficult to read.

  “It’s...ah…” he mouth made several movements as if to continue, but hesitated each time. “Well...”

  “Why did they lure you out just to capture you? And why didn’t they make any demands?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said finally.

  She watched him a moment before responding. “But you know,” she started softly, “you’re going to have to talk about it when you get back to Waracan.”

  “Are you a member of the mage council?” he barked, in a stronger volume than they had been talking previously.

  “No...”

  “Then I don't have to tell you anything.” His expression quickly changed from soft to severe. There's that mage attitude she was expecting.

  “Of course, I apologize.”

  After that they walked mostly in silence until the sun was low on the distant canopy.