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“You sure?”
Daemona nodded as she tossed a few more twigs on the fire. “I couldn’t possibly fall asleep just yet. Dead spiders stink.”
Chapter 8:
They traipsed through the Swamp as fast as their sloshing wet boots would allow, for the wet earth seemed to forever be sucking and grasping at their feet to try and hold them in place a little longer. Daemona wondered if it was her imagination or if the Swamp was truly that malevolent and desired to keep them prisoner forever. Thankfully, the next day they reached relatively firm ground and followed a trail that ran alongside the bank of a swamp while trees made a gloomy roof overhead.
“At least my feet may dry a bit,” remarked Daemona to the others, breaking the silence of what had seemed hours.
Ghul Lykos pointed ahead, saying, “We’ll be crossing to the other side soon enough and your boots will get wet again. I try to dry them out every time we stop to keep off the swamp rot.”
“Off your boots?”
Ghul Lykos chuckled to himself. “No. My feet. Having them be this wet all the time will cripple a man, or Succubus, for that matter.”
She snorted at that, but the next time they stopped, she too took off her boots and socks and tried to dry her feet thoroughly.
“Time to get moving again,” said Harlin.
“We just barely stopped for a rest,” complained Daemona.
“We need to hurry. We only have a few hours of daylight left and need to find a good camp, not to mention travel as far as we can—time is of the essence, and the Swamp is doing its best to slow us down.”
“You talk like it’s a person.”
“Not a person,” said Ghul Lykos, “but it is like a living thing, aware, hungry, and like many other living things—evil. It would harm us whenever it can and slow our progress. We need to hurry for the princess’s sake”
“What kind of princess goes and gets captured?”
“A brave one,” Ghul Lykos said.
Daemona scowled, but got to her feet and followed the others along the misty path. She was of the opinion that any princess who was silly enough to get captured wasn’t likely to be a very great warrior. And prophecy? Who needs it? Just another way to control people as far as I’m concerned.
She was grateful that they stayed on dry land for the next hour, but the fog and trees gathered closer, making it near impossible to see more than a few yards in any direction.
“Wait,” said Ghul Lykos, holding his arm up as a gesture of silence.
“What is it?” asked Harlin in a whisper.
“I don’t recognize this wood,” he said softly.
“How can you tell?” asked Daemona.
“Look, ahead in those ash trees, a campfire and thatch dwellings.”
“A town?”
“Maybe, but I think it might be worse.”
Daemona chuckled. “Worse than a town? A hovel of huts?”
“We may have wandered into the middle of a witch weald.”
“What’s that?”
“A witch’s wood, their abode. We might even be surrounded by them already. We should backtrack and get away from here swiftly as we can.”
Harlin grabbed Ghul Lykos’s shoulder. “No, we can’t waste time going back. We should attack. It would be a surprise. Daemona?”
