A Touch Of Darkness

23 || Katamen

This part of the forest is darker than the rest. Even at the height of the day, the shadows stretch long and deep. Every needle is dipped into shade. It's like a storm permanently hangs overhead, a blanket of ominous grey strung between the knife-like tips to the trees.

Shivering, I bunch up a fistful of my tunic. It is still saturated, water oozing between my fingers. The drizzle is easing off now, but the remnants of the previous day's downpour sits in murky pools and rises up out of the muddied grass with every step. My boots squeak. I sigh, running a hand through my hair, wincing at the further dampness clinging in droplets there.

Cold is pleasant. Snow is a dream come true. But I hate rain.

Something shifts in the undergrowth. Flinching upright, I whip around, hand flying to the hilt of my dagger. Yet all that reveals itself is a flash of brown feathers, quickly vanishing as the bird flutters away.

With a shake of my head, I continue, though I keep stroking the hilt. I'd managed to shake off much of my jumpiness over yesterday's journey as I left Threlkeld behind, but now it clutches at me again, the branches tearing at my tunic like claws. I quicken my pace, throwing another glance over my shoulder.

Behind me and a little to the left, Mount Vasim looms over the land. Having bent away from it, I now pass under its shadow in my journey southwards. Perhaps it is the sight of it that leaves me so on edge. After all, it was on one of those distant ledges high above that I sat with Fiesi, another the location he almost stole my life.

Shoving back the memory, I refocus on the forest ahead. The trees are thinning, if only slightly, which brings an intertwined twist of relief and anxiety. It means I can escape this uncomfortable section of forest, but it is also a subtle sign of what lies ahead.

It isn't long until I reach the trees' edge. As I duck under a tangled arch, needles prickling my shoulders, I catch my first sight of Katamen.

The village is tiny on Rovena's map, tucked away amongst woodland and mountains, and its reality mirrors that image. Rocky peaks climb high either side, shielding what little sunlight trickles through the clouds and darkening the place in a similar way to the forest that surrounds it. The rush of a stream tinkles in my ear, water cascading from a slope and settling in a craggy pool beside the closest settlement. As I watch it ripple and splash, disturbed by the gentle rain, a pair of children dart out from behind a wall and crouch down, cupping clear water in their palms.

Panic seizing me, I stagger backwards, throwing myself in amongst the brambles. These trees may be large, but their trunks are thin, not enough to hide me. I stare at the black flame winding around my arm and sigh.

"If only you'd behave," I mutter as I fling my bag around. "It would make my life so much easier."

My flame hisses and splutters. It isn't keen on the idea.

A few seconds of sifting through my bag, pushing aside the rolled-up map, and my fingers close over cool leather. At least I've managed to keep them dry, through some miracle. I take a moment to support myself fully against the tree before tugging the gloves on, leaning my head into the bark until the dizziness subsides.

Next is the mask. I draw it out and turn it over in my hand, rubbing the thick fabric between my fingers. It is a greyish white, like snow dappled by dust, with dangling ties and two eye-shaped holes. As I poke a finger through one, fire streaks through me with stinging force, and I draw in a sharp breath, retracting my hand. It must be magically enchanted.

Thankfully, it doesn't produce the same reaction as I place it over my face. Knotting the ties takes a few tries, but I persist, despite how my fingers start to ache at the difficulty. Perhaps I should have practiced this before coming close to a town.