She berated herself for the thousandth time. Of course walking into an unfamiliar forest alone was a bad idea.
She dared not speak to any mercenary bands she encountered, in case they would force her back to the village.
So, she wandered alone. Surely she would have found him after four months of wandering, right? As she thought that bitterly, she smelled something. Roasting meat. Her stomach growled at the smell, though the usual hollowness of hunger eluded her.
She carefully approached the smell. It had been months since she had eaten, and the smell was reminding her of that odd fact.
She was approaching, when she suddenly froze.
A group of scavenger creatures - with gleaming claws, dull shells, and hidden mouths - scuttled over a rotting human corpse. By her estimate, it was fresh, having died within they day. She came closer, and the scuttlers scattered. The corpse was torn and nibbled at, but one prominent wound stood out: a gaping hole in the man's neck. It looked like someone had stabbed him with a giant pitchfork.
Done with the autopsy, she rose shakily, not sure she wanted to continue. But, on the other hand, if scavengers had shown up, it probably meant that whoever or whatever killed this man had left.
She continued to follow the food smell, and stumbled into a clearing. It looked trampled and well lived-in. Two huts of stone rose from the ground, and a quenched cooking fire lay between them.
She approached the center of the camp, scattering more shelled scavengers from a familiar body and a mess of raw gore.
All thoughts of eating disappeared immediately at the sight of the crimson pulp. She turned away from the nauseating mess and instead to the blue-haired girl.
Mayliam had apparently grown out her hair since the Follower had last seen her. It was now past her shoulders. And besides the scratch and bite marks from the scavengers, she seemed unharmed. Four bloody arrows nearby probably said that shouldn't be the case.
"What happened here?"
She probably wouldn't ever really know. The survivor, probably Argolex, might know, if he was willing to share.
And if she had put the clues together, he would be less than a day away. But which direction?
"Where did you go?"
"North," a faint voice answered. Gentle, timid, quiet. Mayliam.
"Thank you. Now, I should give your body proper rest before moving on."
She picked up Mayliam's body, princess-style. She brought the corpse into one of the huts, where she found a cot and a deflated bag. Random possessions were scattered around the room.
Gently, she rested Mayliam on the cot, and left, closing the thin wooden door behind her.
"North, eh? I can do that. That is, if I knew which direction was North."
Instinct pointed her in a direction, and she went for it.
She went east.