Quoted By:
If you're going to be travelling with these people, you decide, you should probably try and get to know them a little. At least then you'll be able to properly mourn them when things go horribly wrong. You're exaggerating, of course, but the possibility remains. Considering that Alina has been guiding you thus far, you should start with her. Maybe she's uncovered some wondrous insight while you've been walking.
“Miss Alina,” you begin, sitting down opposite her, “What do you think about the journey so far?”
Alina looks up, peer at you through the dancing campfire flames. “This place is good for us,” she says, her voice quiet and clipped, “Flat land, few obstacles or cover. Even with the fog, it would be hard for anyone to ambush us.”
“Oh. That's... good,” you remark, “I hadn't actually considered the possibility that anyone would put in the effort to ambush us all the way out here. I'm not even sure who WOULD ambush us. Someone with entirely too much time on their hands, I suppose.”
The Galsean woman just stares at you, as if your words had passed entirely over her head. “Maybe we won't be ambushed,” she concedes after a long silence, “But maybe we will.”
Those two possibilities do, in fact, cover things pretty well.
“Back in the home islands, I found a strange place. I was just a girl, roaming the forest. The place had been burned. It had happened a long, long time ago, but nothing grew there. I told my parents, and they ordered me to never visit that place again. It was a BAD place,” Alina continues, the words suddenly spilling from her lips, “This place, it reminded me of that. This is a bad place too.”
As you're processing these words, Alina gets up and slinks away into her tent. You watch her leave, then feel a prickle as the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Turning, you see Usik staring out at you from the outer edge of your camp. The firelight just barely reaches him, half shrouding his face in shadow.
“Do you think this is a bad place too?” you ask, moving a little closer, “Like she does?”
“Yes,” he says bluntly, “But it makes no difference. Many places are bad, haunted. Many people are bad too.”
“And haunted?”
“Haunted too,” Usik nods slowly, then falls silent.
His stillness, his silence, reminds you of some ancient statue. Looking at him now, you can almost imagine moss crawling across his impassive features as they slowly, slowly crumble away to dust. “Major Ionescu said you fought the Lliogor with him,” you state suddenly, saying the first thing that comes to mind in order to break the silence.
“I did,” Usik answers, in his usual unhurried pace, “You haven't.”
“No. The last time the Lliogor reached our shores was before I was born,” you agree, “Fortunately for me, I suppose.”
[1]
