Hours passed peacefully. Occasionally they encountered evidence of recent activity: a freshly cut tree, an old hunting blind overlooking a stream, and smoke rising faintly from a distant charcoal burner deeper within the woods.
If not for the stories they had heard in town, the forest would have seemed perfectly ordinary. That itself began troubling Atheline.
"Perhaps we're chasing superstition."
Lilith considered the possibility.
"It's possible. Generations exaggerate stories, and eventually no one remembers how they began."
He nodded.
"I suppose we'll find out soon enough."
Not long afterward, they encountered the first person they had seen since leaving the road. An elderly woodsman emerged from between the trees carrying a bundle of freshly cut firewood across one shoulder.
His beard was streaked with gray, and years of labor had bent his back slightly. He stopped upon noticing them.
"Travelers?"
Atheline smiled politely.
"For a while."
