As Keegan and I walked into the clearing, I saw that all had once again been prepared for our departure. There were only a few villagers milling about preparing a meal. The prisoners were still seated in the same place as they had been that morning.

  As we mounted our horses, Robert informed us that Tressa and the other injured rebels were recovering.

  “Ethan’s convinced that she’s better because of the bond between them,” he said. “He said to tell you that your mistake saved Tressa’s life.”

  The journey out of the woods took just as long as the journey in, and when we reached the edge of the forest, the sun was beginning to sink into the sky.

  “We will return the horses when we can,” Emilia said, “Thank you, Robert.”

  Robert nodded. “The Creator keep you,” he said, grasping first Keegan’s, then Donavan’s wrist in the Wendellian version of a handshake. He made the sign of respect, first to Emilia, then to me, then turned back into the forest, and rode away.

  “He is a good man,” said Donavan.

  “He is,” Keegan agreed.

  We started through the forest, Emilia leading the way.

  After a short while, the trees began to thin, but a mist seemed to be gathering across the ground, making it impossible to see more than a few feet ahead at a time.

  “We must be careful,” Emilia said. “This is how the rest of Itharan will be, covered in mist, and with boggy ground. There are only a few patches of dry area, and most of them are inhabited by people. But with the war coming, a lot of people will be hiding in the bogs.”

  Keegan chuckled.

  “What?” I asked.

  “I’m just remembering a dream I was in once. Although, it was not funny at the time.”

  “What happened?” asked Donavan.

  “It was early in my Dreamwalking days. I didn’t even realize what was happening yet, that I was really in my Dreams. I went to this really primitive world that looked a lot like this. Lots of swamps. Tiny groups of people living together on islands of dry land in little huts. They eat a lot of fish and other swamp creatures and smear bog mud on themselves to keep away the bugs. Their favorite thing to do is plan and carry out raids on each other.

  “I joined this group called the Porcupine Quills. They were pretty fierce and taught me how to fight like they did, which was a lot of wrestling and hair pulling, some biting.

  “One of the leaders from another group had a daughter who was known as a great beauty.”

  “She sounds amazing,” I interrupted.

  Keegan shrugged. “Compared to everyone else, she wasn’t that bad. Anyway, there was a tournament to win her hand in marriage, and I decided to join.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him.

  “What?” he said. “I thought it was all a dream. Besides, I didn’t do very good. The tournament was mostly wrestling and throwing things, catching fish with your bare hands. Everyone else had been doing those things their whole lives, and I’d only been there a few months. I decided to try a different approach. I started sneaking into the leader’s hut, bringing his daughter gifts, trying to win her over. She wasn’t very impressed, and her dad caught me one night sneaking out.

  “He decided the only punishment fit for me was the Mud Death.” Keegan laughed.

  It didn’t sound very funny to me. “And what exactly is the Mud Death?”

  “They tie you up, and weigh you down and chuck you into the bog, but they make sure that you don’t drown or suffocate or anything as pleasant as that. Basically you have to wait around until you die of starvation, or thirst, or your skin rots off.”

  I shivered; it sounded cold and wet, and horrible.

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  “So there I am, sitting in the mud for days. I was getting pretty frustrated at the dream. And then, to top it all off, a bird started building a nest on top of my head.” Keegan burst into laughter.

  “I don’t believe you,” I said, suppressing a giggle.

  “Oh, believe it. That bird was stubborn. I would shake my head, trying to get it to fly away, and it would peck me until I stopped.”

  By this time both Emilia and Donavan were doubled over with laughter.

  “That was the first time I ever Shifted out of a dream,” said Keegan, still grinning hugely. “I just couldn’t take it anymore. I’ll always be grateful to the leader and his daughter, and the Mud Death, and especially the bird. I couldn’t have done it without them.”

  “The best stories are the ones from when you first begin Dreamwalking,” said Donavan, laughter still in his voice. “Of course,” he added, growing serious, “so are the worst ones.”

  Keegan nodded solemnly and his hands shook on his reins, just ever so slightly.

  We traveled all of that day. The mist made it seem as though we were not moving at all. Every once in a while, I would sense someone else near to us. Emilia did everything possible to avoid them. She had several of her image-selves out scouting pathways through the marshes for us. Occasionally we would catch a glimpse of one, but she would always disappear before we got too close.

  As night approached, Emilia began looking for a place for us to set up camp for the night. Finally she found a patch of dry ground that was surrounded by deep water on all sides. We left the horses hidden in a dense thicket, and Donavan Traveled us across the water to the little island.

  Emilia was already setting up the tent that Robert had sent with us. It was a mottled green, gray, and brown color, blending in well with the landscape around us. In the darkness and the mist, it would be virtually invisible.

  We didn’t want to risk a fire, so we ate a meal of dried meat and bread. Emilia said she would try to keep a watch around the campsite for us, but that we would need to take turns watching from the tent as well.

  Donavan volunteered to take first watch, so Keegan and I climbed into the tent and lay down on our bedrolls, pulling our blankets tightly around us against the cold of the night.

  “Keegan,” I began, slowly, hesitantly, “earlier, when Donavan said something about the worst dreams being at the beginning, what were you thinking about?”

  Keegan was quiet for a long time, and I thought that he might not answer. Finally he took a shuddering breath and began, “It was at the very beginning. I still wasn’t even sure what was happening to me. I definitely didn’t know how to Shift.” He was quiet again, but I said nothing, knowing that he would continue when he was ready.

  “The best way that I can describe the world would be Medieval Europe. I lived in a little village of sheep herders by the sea. I had a couple of brothers in the dream, and a mother. Our father had been killed long before in a war.

  “One day, a raiding party came by and captured me and a couple of others, including my younger brother. They were huge men with pale skin and black hair and eyes. They took us across the sea, and sold us as slaves.”

  He paused again, and I carefully brushed my fingers against his hand. It shook for a tiny moment, and then he wrapped his fingers in mine. There were rough calluses on his palms, and I wondered if he had them in the real world.

  “It was terrible,” he continued, his voice almost a whisper.

  I could feel an overwhelming sense of despair welling up inside of him, so strong it was almost suffocating.

  “Me and my brother were sold to a type of logging company. We had to work outside chopping trees, and it was always winter there. It was always cold and wet and snowy. Most of the time, we were freezing and starving.

  “They were ruthless. You’ve seen what the Captain did to me. You didn’t see the dozens of scars I have underneath. On my back, all over my body.”

  Suddenly I realized that it had been months since I had seen Keegan in shorts or a short-sleeved shirt.

  “It went on for years. Years,” he said, and shuddered. “One day a tree fell on my younger brother and broke his leg. The people who owned us did not even try to take care of it. They just quit feeding him. I did everything I could for him, but his leg got infected and he was too weak to recover. I watched my younger brother waste away and die, screaming in agony, and there was nothing I could do about it.

  “After that I tried to escape. I only tried it once. What they did when they caught me… I never tried again.”

  I felt like I could barely breathe, and I squeezed his hand, wishing I could comfort him.

  Keegan was silent for so long that I finally asked, “How long was it before you woke up?”

  “A long time,” he replied, his voice hoarse. “Eventually, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I… finally killed myself in the dream.” Keegan started talking in a rush, like the words had been pent up inside of him for too long. “One night when there was a blizzard, I snuck out and jumped into a lake and waited until I froze to death. When I woke up, my fingers and toes and my face had frostbite. That was the dream that made me sure that I was Dreamwalking. There was just too much evidence left on my body for it not to have been real.”

  I didn’t know what to say to him when he finished. I squeezed his hand and whispered, “Thank you.”

  Keegan seemed surprised. “For what?”

  “For saving me from all of that,” I said.

  He shifted, turning towards me, and I felt his mood lighten. “I’ve enjoyed every minute of it,” he said. “Well, maybe except for getting whipped and shot. Other than that, though, it’s been great.”

  I punched his arm lightly, and he chuckled quietly. Soon we were both asleep.