No Turning Back
Part 2
The knight’s trail had been easy enough to find; the man had apparently paid little mind to covering his tracks. Menzo followed it at a rapid pace as far as he dared before slowing, acutely aware of the creature’s uncanny sensitivity to those who tread upon his land. Avoiding visible signs of roots, a feat in the tortuous woods, he followed in the footprints left by the knight’s nail studded soles. Menzo’s own boots were of soft leather that did far less to spare him the discomforts of the sticks and stones under his feet, but left little behind to indicate disturbance, something that he felt requisite when penetrating the tenebrous forest’s depths.
Menzo followed farther into the forest than he had ever dared to venture. He felt the press of the gloom close in upon him with such weight that he had to remind himself of just why he was coming this far, right into the jaws of the greatest danger he had ever known. “Fool”, the archer thought intently, as though the young man might hear and turn back. He himself knew these parts best and even he had never been so foolhardy.
For a moment, he stopped and stared into the murk, breathing evenly. Only his eyes moved as he evaluated his next move. Shouldn’t he simply double back and leave the youth to his reckless enterprise? The thought of dying made him frown. He feared death. Yet what did he have to live for that superseded other lives? He had seen the teenager, observed him from afar. He had seen the potential that poured out of the knight’s every pore. Menzo’s frown deepened and his surging emotions steadied. That boy would not die if he could help it. They were likely to be both doomed, but so be it. He would not stand idly by.
Just as Menzo steeled himself to keep moving, the darkness somehow fell apart before his eyes and sunlight plunged from every opening in the ceiling of leaves. Menzo looked up and around him in confusion until a piercing screech resounded a moment later. Taken aback, the bowman first shrank backwards, then his eyes widened and he broke into a run. This time he paid no attention to the roots underfoot.
He ran as fast as he could in this new light. Though he paid close attention to following the knight’s trail despite his speed, he could not help but recognize how badly the forest had been disfigured, scars that had only grown deeper with each passing year. Vast areas of ground were unnaturally soft with thick black moss and the archer had to begin watching his step lest he slip and fall into the diseased undergrowth.