After four weeks of intense preparation, Judson was ready to embark on a journey he regarded as the most important one in his life.

The week prior to his departure, he spent most of his time alone to mull over everything.

For good reason, what lay ahead frightened him now more than ever because it was the very last step. Years of effort and hard work would culminate into the result of his trip, positive or otherwise.

It felt like a bad time to leave because the Elvenhome he had come to cherish, quite surprisingly, was faced with great challenges. Having dwelled amongst them moved him to help, because they had done the same for him, proving without a doubt that friendship and loyalty meant more than anything else.

Alas, he could not stay.

Their conflict was theirs to manage alone, yet he knew they would push through.

Together.

He had witnessed the fullness of Elven strength and come to realize that it did not simply lie in their ability to wield swords, but in a sense of unity. Each was bound to another by an allegiance so strong he doubted any enemy could withstand.

Other than the brewing troubles of the Elvenhome, another bothersome thing was his intended destination.

A place called the Cleft of Rhimah.

Threya had impelled him to reach the Cleft twenty seven days before year's end. There, he would find Camar - the same primordial Gzrel told him about, who had understanding of all languages, unspoken or not.

Only the Chay had the power to show him the Chasma's next occurrence.

With all that she said, Judson felt still doubts like lashes of ice cold rainwater.

Would Camar be willing to help?

Would he even be able to find the Cleft?

Not only did he have to reach it before a deadline, it was located in what he imagined as the most dangerous parts of The Great Jungle. By nature, Wyvernwildé was not a friendly place. Going deep into it was very much like signing one's own death warrant. Since it was unmapped territory, he could not begin to guess what to expect.

Regardless, his volition to try, however unsteady, was ever present. He could not afford to shy away because he feared the unknown.

On the day of his departure, he rose before dawn, moving about sluggishly to ready the travel baggage Maraeti put together for him. In his head, he ran through the list of people he was yet to say goodbye to and confirmed none was left. Every one had wished him a good fare.

Yet he felt incomplete.

Diarmaid's house was empty. Maraeti was yet to come, and the Elf had gone out the previous night in search of his missing dogs again. Judson never pictured he would be all alone neither did he expect a goodbye party.

He slung the heavy luggage over one hand, calculating how far he would walk before his shoulder died of strain. Maraeti could have as well packed a whole house inside the bag.

As he trudged out of the swamp to make for the Eastern border – the easiest way to breech into Wyvernwildé – he took long glances around Diarmaid's abode, committing little things to memory.

The NeverEnd, albeit hot and bright, could impact the most beautiful imageries in the clouds. He liked that the weather was favourable and the skies, hopeful. The environment was awash with sunlight and beautiful greenery, twittering birds, and the honks of faraway geese. Remnants of Juniper's tampered magic still floated about in the air, spreading incandescence. The broad leaves above Diarmaid's tree cast a great shade over much of the dry marsh, allowing for growing lilies to show their faces under the sun.

Once the searing heat reached its peak, a faint breeze would come to blow away the accumulation of sweat on his nape, as if the weather itself was trying to offer him comfort.

All in all, he loved the realm and could understand why Waverly had loved it, too.

Judson walked for a long time, keeping out of sight as much as possible. The route was familiar as it was the same one Phyllis led him down when first he came into Alpgeton.

Soon enough, he reached the Eastern border.

All was dead quiet, save for the halted sounds of underbrush underfoot. After inspecting the surroundings a while, he veered rightward since that was the shortest way into the mouth of Wyvernwildé.

"Told you he would go right." A voice came with a soft snigger.

Judson spun a full circle in search, then glanced above. Up in the tall trees, two Elves were squatting side by side, and they seemed to be staring down at him.

"Diarmaid?" He was stunned, stepping back as, in clean vertical positions, both Elves jumped to the ground. "Phyllis."

She was dressed in a different kind of armor partly hidden under a mud brown cloak. Beside her, Diarmaid was also in traveling clothes. The green of his robes could have merged him with surrounding plant life to an unnoticeable extent.

"What are you doing here?" Judson questioned, feeling a spark of gladness rise in his chest.

"Ensuring that you finish the job." Phyllis replied in her signature easy tone. Her hair was braided all across her head, disallowing any strays. A sturdy bow and quiver full of arrows were strapped across her middle, altogether making her look greatly formal and appealing.

"And by that, she means making sure you don't die." Diarmaid completed.

Realization dawned on Judson. He threw his gaze for a moment. "I cannot allow you come with me."

The Elf shrugged. "It's okay to admit you're relieved, you know."

Phyllis stepped closer, staring up into his eyes. "Did you really think that we. . . that I would let you do this alone? You're greatly mistaken, then."

"But this was not agreed on before now." Judson objected, even though deep inside he wanted to dance for joy.

"Well," Diarmaid tsked, then gave a wide grin. "Surprise!"

Footsteps distracted Judson to a small group of approaching Elves. He spun and saw Maraeti, Ceylon, Grace, and Freañin behind him, all sporting solemn expressions.

"Oh, please tell me they are not coming too." He helplessly whined.

Then, Maraeti laughed. "No. We only came to bid you farewell one last time, and offer our support."

Then, she held out both hands. Judson let his bag drop and went to take them. From the corner of his eye, he caught Phyllis being swallowed up in Ceylon's embrace.

"I know you may be considered an outsider on a large scale," she began, gripping gently onto the back of his hands. "but you are family to us, as was she. When you leave, we'll spread the word to other Elvenhomes. Every Elf must know about this whether they want to or not. You'd be surprised at those that will take your side. And I hope when they do, altogether, we will stir up hope so solid and powerful and alive that it will uncover the right path for you and protect you on your perilous journey there and back again."

She brought her forehead to touch his own, and he inclined to do likewise, feeling a great sense of calm wash over him. All of a sudden, he felt sure of himself and of the journey ahead.

When Maraeti released him, Grace came to replace her. The She-Elf stood a head taller, and did not appear as sad as when he last saw her.

"Promise to be safe."

He broke a soft smile. "I promise."

"Come back in one piece, too." Ceylon admonished.

"I do not plan on losing any parts."

Just like Phyllis and Ceylon, Diarmaid went over to envelope Maraeti in a hug and kissed both sides of her cheeks. Judson looked away from them, feeling a bit of yearning gnaw at his chest.

"It's good Diarmaid is going with you." Ceylon went on, and whispered loud enough for everyone to hear, "He's a much better option for a shield."

"Such nice things you say about me behind my back." Diarmaid laughed, then went to hug Ceylon too.

Freañin extended a hand for Judson to shake warmly. "m'ia nohel treñn nael. Farewell, Karto." (may your travels be blessed)

Before letting her go, Ceylon gave Phyllis's hand a little squeeze.

As she trumped toward the fallen baggage to pick it up, Diarmaid beat her to it.

"Uh, uh, no, no." He chuckled, slinging both straps around his arms. "I can't let you carry such a heavy weight when Ceylon is still within sight. Wait til we're far away."

Judson did not hold back on the laughter that shook his shoulders when Ceylon's face turned stern. He appreciated the fact that the mood he was about to walk away from was a cheerful one. No one was sad, and it encouraged him. It meant that his journey would be fortunate.

"I thought right was wrong." He stated in disbelief when Diarmaid started off in the same direction he had been aiming to go.

"No, right wasn't wrong. Wrong was wrong."

"Can you two keep up?" Phyllis chided from far up ahead, startling Judson. How she had walked such a distance already was a marvel.

He looked back at the others that stood rooted to watch them leave, giving infrequent waves.

Soon enough, they were lost to sight.

"We really should've brought the horses." Diarmaid groaned.

"Horses will be of no good when we enter the jungle." Phyllis stated. It was as if she knew the way, and Judson believed she did.

"Do you know these parts?" He asked regardless.

They were still within the Woodlands, but the area was unfamiliar to him.

"She could scout the entirety of four and a half miles from here with both eyes closed." Diarmaid offered. Now, he did not seem at all affected by the weight of the bag. It was obvious that he often feigned exhaustion and a lot of other things just for comedic effects.

"Olwirien spends her spare time well."

"Well, what can I do? I have no dogs to worry over." Phyllis replied. Although she walked in leisurely strolls, the gap between them remained constant.

"How is she doing that?" Judson whispered, gesturing with a finger to the large space.

"She's had nonstop military training and we have not." Diarmaid replied. "If anything attacks, one of us goes down first."

Judson lifted his wrist to display Calaire. "I have protection."

"As do I."

"I see no sword belt on you."

"I am no swordsman." Diarmaid grimaced, then peered around. "I hate swords. They're too heavy."

"Bows, then?" Judson guessed further.

"Hm, no. Too curvy."

There, he laughed. "You don't fight at all?"

Diarmaid returned the chuckle. "I am great at catching things with my head."

"Incredible talent!" Judson complimented.

From up ahead, Phyllis's voice floated to their hearing. "At this pace, we'll be reaching the Cleft by next year's Pour. Hada! Pelir da!" (Hurry and keep up)

With a shared glance, Judson and Diarmaid sprinted forward to catch up.

For hours, they walked on in absolute silence.

The sun stayed up then eventually began to dim in a way that signified evening. Phyllis kept ahead, leading the way. Judson appreciated that she had chosen to tag along. In spite of them being greatly surrounded by bushes and trees, she knew which way to turn and when.

At last, she began to slow.

By then, the day had grown dimmer yet bright enough to see clearly.

When she came to a halt, she pointed to a sprinkle of trees northeast. "Look! That is where the Great Plains begin, but we are not going that way. Here," She gestured to a few tall trees before them. "is where the Woodlands end."

"So, what is beyond?" Judson questioned. There was not much of a difference between where he stood and four feet away, but Phyllis seemed to see some kind of imaginary demarcation.

"Much of Eden bleeds into these very parts, and the Oasis beyond that. A thousand leagues more from here. . ."

She turned to look at him and at Diarmaid.

"And we'll leave the realm behind." The Elf completed.

Phyllis nodded in a solemn agreement, then sighed out of relief. "Blast it! I've been wanting to do that all my life."

Judson chuckled in surprise. "Really?"

Then, their trek resumed.

"Elves live sheltered." Diarmaid explained. "Not because we fear the world outside, but because many think it has nothing to give."

"You do not think the same." Judson pointed out.

"No. In fact, it is an aged dream of mine to venture deep into Wyvernwildé. I yearn to discover her secrets and the kind of world she harbours."

"It be that your wish is come to pass, son of Runewell." Phyllis spoke in a different voice, prompting Diarmaid to laugh.

Judson squinted, though sporting a smile, unsure of the joke.

Diarmaid quickly noticed the loss on his face. "Oh! That is how Nurse Reela talks, especially about me."

"I've heard of the Nurses. Greatest of Elven healers and the oldest Elf kind alive."

"Indeed!" Phyllis gave a nod, smiling. "They were born in the reign of High King Erémel. I realize you did not get to meet them."

"Perhaps, someday I will."

Sooner than expected, the sun vanished disappeared beneath the horizon. More bushes and taller trees presented themselves, thickening the vegetation all around in a way that paths became concealed to the fullest.

Still, Phyllis was able to tell the right direction.

"She knows this place." Diarmaid piped when they stopped at last to make camp. It was a bit dark now.

Judson's gaze followed the Commander as she surveyed the perimeter. "Much of it than I expected."

The Elf gave a soft sigh. "I was talking about Waverly."

Then, Judson's attention spiked. His insides began to knot, more from anticipation than unease.

"My brother used to race her through this terrain so that she could commit it to memory." He unclasped his robe and rolled it into a neat square, then sat on a fat log. "After he died, she never came back here again."

"She did not want to?"

"Never got the chance, actually."

Just then, Phyllis came marching toward them. "We'll stay here a while. If we hope to cover enough ground before the end of the season, we have to shorten stops."

She stared at from one to the other. "Get as much rest as you can. We go on in an hour."

An hour felt like two minutes because before Judson knew it, they were traversing again. He did not mind the urgency with which Phyllis treated the quest. It was a time-sensitive journey, and he was glad she understood its importance.

Like a true born Commander, she stayed up front, guiding them through confusing jungle green so flawlessly that he suspected she had studied much of Threya's map.

The air turned faintly cool at nighttime and returned to its original humidity by morning. That was how they could separate day from night because the sun seemed to stop following the moment they crossed into Wyvernwildé.

"I hate to be the first one to bring it up," Diarmaid chirped as they trudged along in silence. "but I am starving."

At that, Phyllis came to a sudden halt. "Shh!"

Both Elves slightly bent over, prompting Judson to do likewise even though he was yet to know the reason. He watched Phyllis remove her bow in one noiseless, fluid motion and take out an arrow to notch.

"Game." Her voice was soft and unbelievably low yet audible enough.

After two quiet steps forward, she lowered to one knee, lifted the bow and took the shot. A cry, like that from a rooster, sounded for a split second before she rushed to fetch the source.

She returned, holding up a large reddish junglefowl, with a wide, satisfied grin. "Breakfast!"

Diarmaid's green was even wider. "Good thing I brought seasoning."

Again, they made a stop to feast.

Diarmaid proved culinarily efficient. He prepared enough roast chicken to last another day and also act as a treat while they walked on.

"This is the only thing he does better than I do." Phyllis admitted, biting into the tender meat in rapid succession.

"Is that your first drumstick?" Judson asked, eyebrows humourously knitting.

"Third." Diarmaid gave an answer instead. "She has developed a warrior's yearn."

"What is that?"

"It's 'if we left it to her, she would've eaten up the whole rooster'. Where do you think all of that incredible muscle power comes from? She can lift both Elisel and Thaiel at the same time."

Judson fell into easy laughter and sensed that Phyllis was doing the same because he could see her shoulders tremble. He realized that he admired the refreshing dynamic between both Elves. It could lighten his mood at whatever moment.

"Elven warriors experience a yearn in their first three terms of service." Diarmaid went on to clarify. "It originates from the long process of strenuous training to achieve a full restructure of not just the body alone, but the mind as well. After a few more years, the warrior's yearn dies off completely, and they master survival without food and water. This is when strength becomes fullest."

"What a bizarre contradiction!" Judson noted, with a hint of awe in his voice.

He also noted that they had come into a spacious portion of the jungle. Here, fallen trees and drooping plant life were more abundant. So, they had to bend or cross over dead stumps very often.

"It's what makes us Elves so. . ." Diarmaid trailed off, thinking.

"Unique?" He suggested, throwing a short glance at the Elf. Looking ahead, he saw that Phyllis had again put an even greater distance between herself and the pair of them, almost totally vanishing from sight.

"Yes, of course." Then, Diarmaid also noticed the gap. "Now, I am wondering how she really does that. Olwirien?"

He broke into light sprints, and Judson followed suit. When they closed in, the latter noticed that Phyllis was standing perfectly still. The sound of their noisy footsteps made her lift a hand.

"Aga. . ." She lowered slowly, bringing a finger to rest on her lips. "non." (Stop)

Had she not quietly drawn out her sword, Judson would have had no clue that they were in danger.

"What do you see?" He whispered, peering about the silent forestry.

The response came in form of a forceful wind that blew into his face and knocked him to the ground. A wicked sounding growl pierced his ears, and when he came to himself, he saw Phyllis brandishing her sword in the face of a strange looking beast.

"Is that a lion?" He asked, removing Calaire, which morphed into a bow.

"Worse." Diarmaid's tone was grave. He let the baggage fall and pulled out a short bronze stick from within his robe. "Rage."

Judson assessed the creature. It was built like a lion indeed, but with outstanding features to differ, especially its eyes – blue as burning sapphires. Its rough mane was dark red, with taut skin the color of sorrel. It seemed furious as it lashed a black hairy tail and roared in succession, just about ready to bite Phyllis's head off. However, the She-Elf also looked ready to do the same, glaring at the animal with unbroken focus.

"Why are you turning that way?" He asked, stunned that Diarmaid had backed Phyllis and the creature.

"Rages never hunt alone. There's another."

With that, he yanked on both sides of the bronze stick. The object gave one click and elongated into the finest bronze spear Judson ever saw. But he had very little time to admire the weapon, because true to the Elf's words, a second Rage jumped right at them out of nowhere.

The next moment was filled with hot wind and goosebumps.

Judson felt too disoriented to take aim because the creatures were too fast to pin down. However, his Elven friends were keeping up just fine.

Phyllis was able to stick the Rage twice without effort, angering it even further. She was light on her feet, moving like breeze. Her long sword drew blood each time she swung it. Every so often, the Rage took giant leaps at her, but she would lean back in a way that defied gravity and gash its underbelly. The glare she sported matched the force of her swing and kept her ahead of the animal.

On the other hand, Diarmaid was faring incredibly well, too. Watching him do battle, Judson developed an instant respect for the Elf, who was greatly skilled with his spear and his feet. He would jump over the Rage's head whenever the creature lunged and stick it in the back or behind as he came landing again. The unrelenting beast seemed to care little for the pointy end of its opponent's stick and how often it stabbed into its wrung out skin.

At last, Diarmaid removed a cap off of the blunt end of his spear. Another sharp point grew, which he stuck into a nearby tree, then tricked the Rage into chasing him. While he gracefully jumped on top of the weapon to propel himself up to a tree branch, the inbound animal - unable to control its own speed - crashed into the spear face first.

Diarmaid jumped down and heaved a small sigh. "Been a long time since I did that."

Judson, still awestruck, turned to Phyllis, who had also defeated the Rage by stabbing into it when it momentarily fell on its back.

"It's a miracle we have come this far before being attacked." She breathed, wiping her bloody sword on the dead Rage's mane, then replaced it back in its sheath.

Judson realized that she had fought with her cloak on, which did nothing to limit her movements.

That reminded him of Waverly.

"Wyvernwildé overflows with wilder things than are present any in the other realm." Diarmaid said, pushing the dead Rage off to retrieve and wipe his spear clean, too. "This is but a first of hundreds we will face."

"It is strange!" Judson exclaimed with a frown. In the calm, a distant knowledge was surfacing in his head.

"What?" Phyllis halted at the look on his face.

"I have never seen a Rage in real life, until now, but I know much about them." He stared down at the dead creatures. "There are just two."

"Clearly. But then again, Rages only seldom hunt in a pair, they. . ." Diarmaid trailed off, petrified.

Judson's eyes began to travel around. His company came to stand with their backs to his, inspecting the environs.

"Here!" Phyllis pointed out calmly.

From her vantage point, six Rages were emerging from behind the trees. Judson's insides filled with dread as searing hot as molten.

"I'll handle these." Diarmaid muttered, gesturing to the remaining four that had begun to spread out before him.

"Go for the underbelly." Phyllis advised. "Tickle til it hurts."

With that, she charged.

Judson took a hurried, aimless shot. Yet the whizzing arrow found a target. Upon contact, the creature exploded to fine ash. His jaw fell open at the sight.

"I suggest you move around and keep doing that!" Diarmaid's strained voice came.

Just when he drew back the bowstring, a Rage leaped at him and almost clawed his entire face off, its torchlike eyes glistening like death. He fell on his back, unable to replicate Phyllis's way of dodging.

This time, he was unable to watch his friends fight because he was trying to stay alive himself. The animals were overwhelming and surprisingly nimble, as young kittens.

A long time passed before he was able to take another shot.

"From the air!" Phyllis shouted.

In that instant, a Rage knocked her sword from her grip. Another pushed her down with abrupt force, allowing a third to go in for the kill.

Judson redirected his arrow and blasted that one to ash. Then, taking her advice, he lifted off to hover where the Rages could not reach no matter how high they jumped.

One by one, he shot at them, until none was left.

"It's godly metal, isn't it?" Diarmaid breathlessly voiced, extending a hand to receive Calaire when Judson was back on the ground again. The moment his grip closed around it, it elongated into a silver spear.

"It senses a wielder's touch and becomes his greatest weapon." Judson explained.

"So, then, a bow suits you, after all." The Elf chuckled. "Maraeti was right."

Soft moans interrupted them. Phyllis laid still on the ground, attempting to turn over at intervals. Her left sleeve was covered in blood, showcasing a deep wound in her arm.

The pair rushed to her aid.

Diarmaid swung her good hand over his shoulder. "I honestly believed I would be the first one to get hurt between us."

"We must make camp." Judson advised, going to retrieve the baggage. "The wound looks infected."

The battlefield was actually a small clear, so the trio made their camp in it. Phyllis seemed to weaken from her injury, and as Judson cleaned it, he watched her grow weaker.

"Do Rages have poison?" He asked, turning to Diarmaid, who had set up a fire and all.

"No, but their claws are greatly diseased."

"She has grown weak. I need to make some root tonic. What do we have?"

"Crimson eye, abelm, swamp rosemallow, cyrilla, and heartsease."

"Any lobelia?"

Diarmaid filtered through the chest of herbs and fished out a flower. "Just one."

"That will suffice. Draw bandages over the wound. I will prepare this."

In a second, they had switched places. Whilst Judson boiled the plant in hot water, he walked about in search of any helpful additives and came upon some ground cover.

"What are those?" Diarmaid asked, placing a hand onto Phyllis's face to support her limp head from drooping further.

"Chamomile. I will use them for sedating effects and to make a poultice that will help reduce any inflammations on the outside."

Diarmaid grimaced in a curious way, leading Judson to frown.

"What?"

The Elf scoffed a bit. "Nothing. I'm just impressed that you know all of this. How did you come to?"

Kneeling by the fire, Judson prepared the plant, filling the air with an odor similar to that of apples. "It is more of a talent that I nurtured into a skill with time. It is possibly the only thing I excel at."

Diarmaid watched in silence as the remedy was drained down Phyllis's throat and the poultice placed upon her arm, held together by a bandage.

Whilst she slept, he sat with Judson near the fire to eat some of their roast junglefowl.

"I think there's more to you than meets the eye." Diarmaid said out of nowhere. He appeared casual, picking at the meat in his hand.

"In what sense?" Though he knew exactly what, Judson wanted to hear it anyway.

Diarmaid observed a few moments of silence before speaking.

"The first time I met Waverly, she seemed like any other Human one would come across. My brother and I kept a close eye on her. See, she showed excellence fast. It's difficult to hide when one is talented in one way or another, but she. . .  displayed versatility I never thought could exist in a human being."

He paused, staring straight at Judson. The forest did not grow any brighter than it did when day first broke. Only the heat returned, bathing the atmosphere in apparitions of light.

"I watched her accept challenges with frightening bravery. Even I was afraid of it. She was hardly fazed by anything. And her strength, well, it was great as a mountain. In all these, I told myself she was just one of very few Humans gifted with outstanding abilities and meant to walk amongst men as their superior. Then, I witnessed her give a mouth to a Wray."

He straightened to toss the bones into the fire.

"In truth, I'd known all along what she really was since the first time we met. A god's child. Brilliant in all endeavours, yet ever humble."

His head tilted, a little smile breaking across his face. "You're the same. You're a god's child."

Judson's eyes lowered. It felt somewhat like an accusation.

"Are you ashamed of it?"

"No, but I am not proud either."

Diarmaid laughed. "Bridonis was just like that. He despised that his very existence was sourced from unhuman powers that be, which was why he strove so hard to identify as one of us, regardless of the fact that he wasn't. I won't advise you to accept who you are, deny it, or even fight against it. I can't understand what it's like for you, but I believe that when you begin to love something – no matter what it is – you start to see beauty in it and importance."

A smile lifted Judson's lips. "So, you are wiser than Ceylon claims."

Diarmaid rolled his eyes. "I am wiser than everyone claims. It's just too big a responsibility to stay that way all the time."

"You should rest a while. I will keep watch, until you wake up."

"Much appreciated."

As Diarmaid drifted off, Judson opted to stroll about, a million things plaguing his mind. When he danced around each one of them to the point of exhaustion, his mind rested on Waverly.

All of a sudden, he began to picture what she looked like now. It would be five years gone before he reached her, which meant he was possibly going to have a hard time recognizing her. He imagined just how much she would have grown and her excitement upon seeing him again. Wherever she was, his one prayer was that she remained unharmed. He did not know what he would do if she was hurt.

But then again, she was a warrior at heart. Even when her strength faded in body, it tarried in mind.

She would endure long enough.

He began to yearn to hear her voice again. The last time he had, he could not tell if it were real or just a figment of his imagination. Howsoever, he wanted it to happen a second time. The thought of her along had ignited hope in him, hearing her voice would solidify it.

On impulse, he closed his eyes.

The quiet atmosphere was ideal for concentration, and his subconscious traveled fast, allowing for his godly senses to expand in search of a similar energy to latch onto. For a long time, he went on seeking, but there was only loud silence and a hampering sensation in the back of his head.

Still, he persevered.

Hours passed before his eyes finally fluttered open, a deflated sigh escaping his nostrils.

Nothing.

However, the innate exercise did leave him revitalized. Instead of sadness, he felt like a used bowl after being washed clean with cool running water.

Just as he returned to his slumbering friends, Phyllis stirred and her eyelids flew open.

"Nice to see you awake." He smiled and went over to kneel by her side.

Her head tilted in question. "What did you give to me?"

"Something to help you sleep easy. Do you feel any pain?"

Perhaps unknowingly, she pushed herself to sit up using the injured hand, but nothing even close to a wince came out of her. On that note, she removed the bandages to inspect the gash and gave a small gasp of surprise.

"It's. . ." A small frown formed on her face though she still stared fixatedly at the wound. "healing."

"It would seem."

Then, she looked up and straight into his eyes. "Where did you learn to do that?"

He shrugged. "Nowhere in particular."

"Then how did you—"

At that moment, Diarmaid awoke as well. He inspected the environment with sweeping eyes, then settled on his companions.

"Olwirien?"

Phyllis gave several nods. "I'm alright. It's better now."

"Are you fit to travel on?"

"Of course, I am."

She rose and dusted herself off, retrieved her sword belt and cloak, and took up the baggage.

"I have no idea what he gave me, but I feel energetic enough to walk the whole day nonstop." Her eyes took in the forest. "Evening is almost upon us. We must make up for lost time. Hada."

Again, they set off.

This time, Diarmaid walked up front while Phyllis strolled beside Judson. He got the feeling she either wanted to talk about something or ask a question.

"Alright." He sighed and gestured to Diarmaid. "I suppose he has gone far beyond Elvish earshot."

She threw him a full glance, then scoffed a laugh. "You're beginning to read me. I had no clue I was that limpid."

"Does it bother you?"

Her head swayed this way and that. "It doesn't now that I understand why it happened to you and why you were so precious to her."

She came to a halt and gazed a while into his eyes, her own filling up with unspoken things that he, quite shockingly, understood fast. It marveled him that so much could be said without words, and especially from someone like Phyllis.

However, he felt relieved that she could grasp a lot simply through intuition.

Then, she gave a hearty scoff. "Lucky!"

He squinted, doubtful. "I think luckiest most unlucky."

With a little chuckle, she nudged him to continue walking.