Randall stood where he was, unsure if moving forward was the right choice.
The men worked quietly, setting up a fire and preparing a meal. No one reached for a weapon or shouted at him. Their calm made him more nervous than anger ever could.
The old man studied Randall for a long moment, then smiled faintly.
"You look like a boy who has been running for too long," he said. "Come boy, Sit. If we wished you harm, you would already be dead."
Randall hesitated.
Then his stomach betrayed him with a loud growl.
A few of the men chuckled softly.
Heat rushed to Randall's face. Still, he took slow steps forward until he stood near their small camp. A fire burned low at the center, with a pot resting above it. The smell made his mouth fill with saliva instantly.
The old man gestured to a fallen log. "Sit."
Randall sat.
Someone handed him a wooden bowl. Inside was thick stew, roots, herbs, bits of meat. It wasn't fancy, but it smelled rich and warm.
"Eat," the old man said. "Slowly."
Randall tried, really tried not to let them see how hungry he was but hunger won.
He ate too fast, barely chewing the food, his hands shaking as he lifted the bowl again and again. The warmth spread through him, chasing away the ache that had lived in his bones for days.
When Randall finally finished, he realized tears were sliding down his face.
Embarrassed, he wiped them away quickly. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" the old man asked, "For… being weak."
The old man tilted his head. "Weak men do not survive what you have survived."
That surprised Randall.
The old man sat across from him, close enough now that Randall could see the fine lines on his face, the scars on his hands.
"My name is Elder Tovan," the man said. "And you are?"
Randall swallowed. Saying his name felt dangerous.
"Randall," he said finally.
"Just Randall?" Tovan asked.
"Yes."
Tovan nodded as if that was enough. "Then, Randall, you are among the Chasers of old prophecy."
"The… what?" Randall asked.
"The ones who walk barefoot," another man said calmly. "The ones who do not kneel to crowns."
Randall's chest tightened.
He glanced at their feet. All of them were barefoot. Their feet were scarred and calloused.
"Are you soldiers?" Randall asked.
Tovan smiled. "We are not an army."
"Are you priests?"
"No."
"Hunters?"
"Sometimes."
Randall frowned. "Then what are you?"
Tovan leaned back, looking at the trees. "We are what remains when kingdoms fail."
He turned back to Randall. "You were running from something?"
Randall said nothing.
Tovan did not push. "You may rest here tonight. After that, you will decide."
"Decide what?" Randall asked.
"Whether to leave," Tovan said, "or whether to stay."
Randall's heart beat faster. "And if I stay?"
Tovan's eyes sharpened, just slightly.
"Then you will not be the same when you leave. None of us are."
That made Randall uneasy.
One of the men brought him a blanket. "Sleep near the fire," he said. "You're shaking."
Randall wrapped himself in it, the warmth sinking deep. His eyes grew heavy faster than he expected.
Before sleep took him, he asked, "Why help me?"
Tovan answered quietly, "Because we would never leave a man who is already downthrodden. Rest well."
*****
The creature sat on the fallen log across from Randall, its eyes glowing brightly, the light spreading across its scaled body like fire under skin.
Randall felt anger rise in his chest, hot and sudden. The nerve of it, to sit there calmly, as if nothing had happened. As if it had not left him alone.
"What troubles you, Randall of Glandow?" the creature asked, its voice smooth and knowing.
Randall said nothing. He turned his face away, staring into the dark trees.
The creature laughed softly. "Ahhh… so you sulk now? Like a little girl?"
Randall's head snapped back toward it. "Don't you dare call me a little girl," he said through clenched teeth. "I've survived more than you know."
"Oh, spare me," the creature snapped sharply, cutting him off. "You've survived worse than loneliness, yet this is what breaks you? Being left alone?"
Its voice grew hard. "That is the life of a leader. The life of a warrior."
Randall's chest tightened.
"You act like a child," the creature continued. "Grow up."
Randall opened his mouth, then closed it again. He couldn't find the words. He didn't even understand why he was so angry. He had always been alone. Shadows had been his companions long before exile.
Yet this felt different.
"You left," Randall said quietly at last. His voice shook despite his effort to steady it. "I thought you were my friend."
The words burned as they left his mouth.
The creature's expression softened. It stepped closer and placed its clawed, scaled hands on Randall's shoulders. They were warm and steady.
"Look at me," it said.
Randall raised his eyes.
"One path must close," the creature said gently, "for another to open. Do you understand?"
Randall blinked. The words meant nothing to him. "No," he admitted. "I don't."
The creature studied him closely. "You are sharper than you believe, Randall. If I had stayed by your side, you would never have met those you now walk among."
"They are not my friends," Randall said at once.
The creature smiled. "Oh, yes they are."
Randall frowned. "How?"
"They were meant to cross your path," the creature said. "Your destiny requires it."
Randall shook his head, confusion clouding his face. "I don't understand any of this."
"In time," the creature replied. "All things will become clear. Follow those who walk beside you now. And know this…."
It stepped back, the light around it dimming.
"I am never truly gone."
Panic surged through Randall. "Wait," he pleaded. "Please don't go."
The creature turned away.
"Please," Randall cried, his voice breaking. "Stay with me."
But the forest was suddenly empty.
"Stay," he whispered again.
Something touched his leg.
Randall gasped and jolted awake.
Cold air filled his lungs, his body was slick with sweat despite the chill. He looked down and saw Elder Tovan kneeling beside him, concern etched across his weathered face.
"What troubled you so deeply?" Tovan asked. "You cried out in your sleep."
Randall swallowed hard. His heart still pounded.
"It was… nothing," he said, though he knew that was a lie.
So this had been a dream, he thought to himself, yet the emptiness in his chest said otherwise.
He stared into the fire, its embers glowing softly, and wondered why being alone suddenly hurt more than it ever had before.