Chapter 5

Talus trudged behind Crow at a close enough distance that any observer could recognise they were travelling together. The pair sloshed through shallow water, Crow using a tall stick to test their footing before each step. Talus didn't need that tool, his sharp gaze could pierce the murky haze and see beneath the water with only minor obscuring. He waded behind Crow's cautious footsteps only to keep up pretences. 

Crow paused to wait for Talus to catch up. He saw that the grave rat was panting slightly out of breath while shielding his eyes from the setting sun, squinting to survey the area in the descending twilight. He absent-mindedly swatted at an insect that flew too close to his face, distracting his search.

"This is as good a place as any to make camp. Why do the Magi always have to hold their wars out in these faraway backwaters? It's rare to even see a shard tower," Crow complained.

"Don't be too unsure of yourself, they don't have the answer to that question either," Talus replied cryptically. He understood that the Ether could only slip through the barricade of shard towers in places with the least amount of arcane reinforcement.

"You say that like you know something the rest of us don't," Crow said, eyeing him sideways.

"Perhaps," Talus replied, offering a small, unreadable smile. 

"Yeah? Well, I'm not going to stand here and argue philosophy with you. If you're lucky, Piercing Pete will have a hammock you can string up above the water. Otherwise, I hope you're good at weaving. I give it about an hour before the sun drops below the horizon. The Magi may have temporarily scared off the snakes and other nasties but my experience tells me they'll be back in full force come nightfall," Crow said, stabbing his pole upright in the muck. He reached behind himself, feeling around to unhitch his pack, taking it off and hanging it from a specialised notch on the pole, after testing how sturdy it was. Next, he pulled a pair of rods from the pack and secured them in the ground before stringing a woven hammock between them. "Might want to get a move on, lad. Sun's not going to wait around for you to get sorted."

Talus acknowledged the prompt, smoothly lifting the pack from his back like he was double-jointed without resistance. He immediately discovered the rods and hammock similar to Crow's, imitating his efforts to set it up. Without a walking pole of his own, Talos chose to hang the laden pack at the foot of his hammock and then climbed into the makeshift bed.

"Before we go to sleep, if you see anything slithering around, leave it be. They're bad eating and have you squatting over a bush and wishing you were dead. Very well might be. Take that piece of advice, I learned that one the hard way. I suggest sticking to water chestnuts and edible reeds if rations run out. Here, lad. Take a swig of this. It'll put hair on your chest," Crow said, expertly staying balanced in his hammock as he reached out to hand over a solid flagon filled with an unknown liquid. "Bogfire, it's cleaner than drinking the water around here. Only by a smidgen, mind you. I have a strong suspicion that the merchant sold me relabeled paint stripper."

Talus accepted the flagon, he lifted the lid and held it beneath his nose, giving it a tentative sniff. His face betrayed no change in expression as he inhaled the musty odour of rotting wood and a pungent fishy smell. Without hesitation, he brought it to his lips, gulping a mouthful of the foul liquid. It had a burning and caustic sensation with a cloying and sickly sweet taste, the kind of sweetness attempting to mask something worse. It was followed by a sour aftertaste accompanied by a metallic, rusty tang reminiscent of biting into raw fish. 

Aside from the rancid taste, Talus was unsure what was expected of him. As such, he closed the flagon and handed it back to Crow with an exaggerated smile of thanks.

"It tastes delicious," Talus said. It was true in the sense that it was the only thing the simulacrum had ever tasted, he didn't know what a good or bad flavour was. He gently licked his lips, savouring the new experience. Crow stared at him in utter disbelief before bursting into laughter.

"If that's true, I don't ever want to taste your ma's cooking!" Crow exclaimed, tipping his head and taking a deep drink. He slammed it down on his lap with a loud burp. He handed it back to Talos who mirrored his action, letting out an even louder belch. Crow shook his head, watching him carefully. 

"You're a strange one," Crow said. Talus tilted his head, considering the implications of the statement. 

"Am I?" Talus asked. Something about the way he said it made Crow uneasy, like the answer was more complicated than he wanted to know. "What do Humans do after drinking the Bogfire?" 

"If it does what it's supposed to, the world will start spinning and take our minds to somewhere far away, better than here, and we'll drift off to sleep," Crow said, taking another swig. His movements became looser, causing the hammock to sway slightly. "Not too bad, eh? You haven't drunk much before, have you?"

"I don't believe I have. This would be the first time," Talus observed the subtle changes in Crow's behaviour, his expression remaining impassive. It was the truth, it was the very first thing Talus had ever drunk in his entire extensive existence.

"Well, you handle it better than most," Crow snorted. He took the flagon from Talus and 

Finishing off the remaining contents. He smacked his lips and stared blearily at the final vestiges of the sun disappearing on the horizon. "Y'know, people always say keep yer wits about in the wetlands lest a shade take yer. But sometimes, maybe it's better to just-just let 'em go for a bit."

The man's words became slurred. As he shifted, the hammock tilted beneath him. Crow made a clumsy effort to steady himself, only to overcompensate. With a surprised grunt, he swung sideways, laying himself as stiff as a board to remain inside. Crow glanced over at Talus peering at him through the growing darkness, the uncanny, handsome features watching him were completely unreadable. 

"I do believe your wits have gone," Talus said in a flat tone. Crow closed his eyes with pursed lips, suppressing his rising feeling of unease.

"Shards protect me. Or, at least make my death swift should this shade decide to take me in my sleep," Crow muttered softly, his words easily distinguished from the sound of marsh creatures coming out of hiding to Talus's ears. 

Within moments, the grave rat's breathing steadied, and his body became slack in the hammock. The sound of heavy snoring disturbed the peace beneath the stars, drink and exhaustion completing their work. Crow had fallen asleep.