Sastra moved carefully through the undergrowth. It was darker within the depths of the forest, but where the canopy was broken the light drifting through was bright. She moved towards the sound of voices, keeping her knees bent. Grateful of the soft leather boots she wore, they allowed her to move quietly through the brush. The ground dropped away into a hollow and she picked out a number of men and women gathered around a campsite. Behind them was an abandoned lodge. Made with grey stone walls that were covered in a thick layer of white lichen. It looked as though some of the roof had fallen away, some wooden boards poking through the top of the building. Cracked slates littered the ground where they’d fallen.
She sank down within the ferns, lying on her front and resting her chin on the
