"Now that that's over with, we really do need to find a place to take refuge. With how hard it's raining, its only a matter of time before you become sick."
Osyras returned his gaze to their surroundings, squinting to see through the heavy downpour.
Eventually, he spotted a small building off in the distance, with both its slanted roof and crumbiling walls still mostly intact.
"There, that should do for the night."
Without another word, Osyras made his way to the building, his boots trudging through the mud.
Lucas glanced one final time at the corpses, whose frail bodies huddle together beneath the pouring rain. Although he wished to bury them, he knew it would be pointless without a proper coffin.
Pulling back his gaze, he followed Osyras to the building, which was supported by two cobblestone pillars. In the middle sat a crooked door, above of which hung a smoldering wooden sign.
'The Guilded Cloak? I haven't been here since...'
Lucas's thought trailed off, as the memory was too painful. With a heavy breath, he ducked through the crooked door and into the dimly lit building.
Behind him, Osyras yanked the door back into place, before scanning the dust covered room.
The light of a flickering lamp reflected off the smooth sunbirch shelves lining the walls, each of which was filled with sheets of cloth and layers of fabric.
Overhead, several tapestries hung from the rafters, their threads speckled with ash.
Finished surveying the room, Osyras motioned towards the far back wall, where a row of shelves displayed a variety of clothes and cloaks.
"You should look for something to wear. The path we'll be taking is fraught with danger, and not one you can travel so poorly equipped."
Lucas examined his singed cloak and tattered clothes, all of which were soaked by the rain. Held together by a mere thread, even a light breeze would be enough to tear it apart.
Lucas sighed and pulled off his cloak, careful not to aggrevate the wounds beneath. Draping it over a beam, he approached the wall and began to rummage through the shelves.
After a few minutes, he found himself dressed in a new set of clothes, while a dark blue cloak made from Hollowing silk hung from his shoulders.
"You'll need these as well," Osyras said, handing Lucas a pair of boots and a dagger carved from amber.
"A dagger? Wouldn't a sword be better?" Lucas asked, slipping the boots on over his feet. They were a few sizes too big, but provided him with the protection his previous pair lacked.
"You're fortunate I found anything at all. The Orks are experts when it comes to scavenging," Osyras said.
He looked pointedly out the window, where several bodies laid bare, stripped of anything worth value.
Lucas averted his gaze, and sheathed the dagger. "Thanks, this weapon shall do. At least until I find something better."
Osyras stared blankly at Lucas for a moment, before turning and walking towards the door.
"Get some rest. We'll be heading out first thing in the morning."
"Where are you going?" Lucas asked, furrowing his brows.
"There's something I need to check, but I'll be back within the hour."
With that, Osyras pushed open the door and slipped into the storm outside. His figure soon vanished, leaving the door to creak shut behind him.
Lucas shivered as a gust of wind whistled through the cracks, causing the building to shift.
Pulling his new cloak tighter, he turned and examined the room. A pile of cloth in the corner caught his eye, appearing more inviting than the hard cold floor beneath him.
Lucas sighed and made his way over. Gathering the cloth, he spread it out across the floor and laid down.
Tears slid down his face as he watched the tapestries sway overhead, while the rhythmic patter of rain beat against the roof.
Stifling a sob, he turned to his side and shut his eyes, allowing his exhaustion to take over.
Only a moment passed before he fell into a deep slumber, lulled to sleep by the howling winds and tapping rain.
...
'Shing... shing...'
Lucas awoke to the sound of a whetstone being scrapped along the edge of a blade. Rubbing his blurry eyes, he sat up and looked around.
"Ah, you've awoken. That's good. Saves me a bit of trouble."
Lucas turned to find Osyras with his back to the wall, sharpening a blade beneath the morning light. Sweat dripped from the side of his face as he set the sword down and pulled out a leather pouch.
"Here, eat this. It will help you regain your strength." He said, tossing the pouch towards Lucas.
Catching it, Lucas pulled back the strings a glanced inside. A bundle of jerky laid within, accompanied by the scent of salted meat.
"Thanks," Lucas said, pulling out a piece. Althoug it wasn't much, it at least helped to lessen the hunger gnawing at his stomach.
Returning the pouch to Osyras, he glanced out the window. By now, the rain had stopped, and only a few puddles remained behind.
"When will we be leaving?"
"Soon. If there's anything you need to do, now would be the time," Osyras said, sheathing his sword.
Lucas shook his head. "There's not."
"In that case," Osyras stood with a grunt and gathered his things, "we can go now."
Pushing open the door, he led Lucas out and towards the edge of the village. A faint mist still clung to the ground, swirling beneath their feet.
"Were you able to find the item you were searching for last night?" Lucas asked.
"No, not yet," Osyras said, pausing to glance at the sun.
By now, they stood at the edge of the Dawnhollow forest, staring out at a golden field of wheat for as far as the eye could see.
Lucas looked back, examining the burnt land behind him.
'This is it... The last time I'll ever see this place.'
As Lucas looked at the place his home once stood, a memory flitted through his mind. It had been a warm summer afternoon, and he and his sister were playing out in a clearing.
Overhead, the birds chirped as they hopped from branch to branch, while his parents sat nearby by, enjoying the breeze.
Letting out a deep sigh, Lucas pulled back his gaze and glanced at Osyras. It appeared he had finished whatever it was he was doing, as he motioned for Lucas to follow.
"Come on, the border is this way."
...
It took the two of them a little over four hours to pass through field, by which time the sun had made its way high into the sky.
Lucas wiped the sweat from his forehead, and studied the wall of trees in front of them.
With roots as hard as rock, and bark that was a dark shade of grey, the trees appeared to have been carved from stone.
"Where are we?" Lucas asked, running his hand over over one of the tree's trunks. It was cold to the touch, and surprisingly smooth.
"The Stoneoak Jungle. It's one of the few places we have to pass through in order to reach the border," Osyras said, pulling out his sword. "Watch out for the vines. They're more dangerous than they appear."
Lucas glanced up at the vines dangling from the Stoneoak's branches. They were dark green in color, and covered in thorns, while a collection of pale twigs protruded from their grasp.
Lucas squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look at one of the twigs hanging above his head. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn it resembled a finger bone...
'No way! That really is a finger bone!' Lucas thought, hastily backing away from the tree.
"Don't worry. They won't attack you unless they sense blood," Osyras said, patting Lucas's shoulder. "That being said, their thorns are as sharp as razors, and a single cut is enough to spell your death."
"Is it possible to go around? Maybe we can find a path or something..." Lucas said, glancing in either direction.
He hoped to spot a road, but the jungle stood firm for miles around.
"There's not enough time. The longer we take to get to the village, the more difficult it will be to expel your curse."
As if on cue, Lucas felt a jolt run through his body, causing him to grimace. Rubbing his chest, he turned back to the trees in front of him.
'It should be fine as long as I'm careful, right?' Lucas thought, eyeing the narrow gaps between the trunks.
Gritting his teeth, he turned back to Osyras. "Alright, straight ahead it is then."
Osyras nodded and raised his sword. "Make sure to follow the path I take. Any deviations, and we might end up wandering the Halls of Mildune."
With the threat of death hanging above their heads like a guillotine blade, the two adventurers made their way into the silent jungle, all the while doing their best to avoid the countless thorns.