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Without making a sign that he has heard me, he stumbles off the track and starts heading through the woods. After a while, I realize we are following a narrower path that winds between the looming trees.
Does he know where he’s going?
Suddenly, he drops to his knees. I rush to his side. “Oh, Zephiro,” I sob, trying to drag him to his feet.
He shrugs me off. “Follow,” he growls.
Could he be delirious? The path has ended. There is no way forward, and neither of us are in any state to climb.
As my eyes adjust to the encroaching night, I suddenly see it. There’s a dark hole in the rock wall ahead of us.
Clawing his way forward using his good arm, Zephiro enters the gap and disappears.
With a final glimmer of hope in my heart, I enter the aperture behind him. Maybe we will be safe here until Zephiro’s wounds heal.
The hard rock floor scrapes my knees, and it feels as if the darkness will swallow me whole. All I can do is follow the noise of Zephiro crawling ahead of me.
Eventually, he stops with a grunt. Inching forward, I find his bulk lying sprawled on the floor.
“Zephiro?” I hiss as quietly as I can. There is something about the velvety blackness that surrounds us that I do not want to disturb. “Zephiro?”
But there is no answer. The only reason I know he is alive is because his breath still leaves his body in ragged gasps.
Exhaustion overwhelms me. Curling myself into a ball beside him, I close my eyes.
When I awake, I am stiff and aching. I open my eyes and watch the light of the flames play across the wall of the cave. Then it dawns on me. There is the crackle of a fire and the smell of smoke.
Turning over, I see Zephiro hunched beside a small fire. He smiles when he sees I am awake.
“Zephiro,” I say. “I was so worried about you.”
“Don’t worry, I heal fast,” he replies, although the sight of his arm hanging limp at his side tells another story.
He holds out the waterskin with his good arm. Gratefully, I drink from it, even though the water tastes stale.
“There is an underground spring close by,” he tells me. “I will fill it with fresh water in a minute. I didn’t want to leave you alone while you slept.”
“Thank you,” I reply. “What is this place?”
The walls of the small cave are covered in strange pictograms of mythical beasts and magical battles.
“It is the place of the ancestors,” he tells me. “My people were once numerous and populated the surrounding area in their thousands. These caves were sacred to them. The scenes on the walls are of the battle that all but destroyed our once-powerful race.”
The sorrow in his voice moves me. As I study the walls, I notice that what I had assumed were hills, are in fact the bodies of the dead piled up in mounds. I guess they were no match for the powerful dark elf invaders with their deadly magic. The abuse they hand out without thought makes me sick to my stomach.
Turning to speak to Zephiro of my loathing, I am shocked to find him slumped over. I get up and help him to lie down properly. “You are far from well,” I scold him. “Tell me where I can find fresh water.”
“No, I’ll go,” he says, trying to rise.
“You will do no such thing,” I tell him sternly. “It is my turn to look after you.”
Reluctantly, he explains how to get to the spring.
Taking a torch from the fire and hardening my resolve, I leave the relative safety of the cave.
I follow his directions until I hear the blessed sound of running water. The water pours from the spring into a crystal-clear pool. On my hands and knees, I slake my thirst, relishing the chill as the water slides down my parched throat.
It feels wonderful washing the filth and grime of our flight through the forest from my face and arms. The water is freezing, and by the time I have finished my cleaning, my teeth are chattering. But it’s worth it. I come away from the water feeling refreshed and with a water bottle full of fresh clean water to tend Zephiro’s wounds.
