Neptune did not remember much of the journey through the woods. The movement of the masked man’s gait was steady, but the world was a blur of leaves and dark branches. Eventually, his eyes grew too heavy to hold open, and he blacked out entirely.
When he finally woke, he was lying on a soft bed made of furs and dried moss. The air smelled of woodsmoke and bitter herbs. It was a natural, gentle warmth.
He tried to sit up, but a sharp pain in his ribs forced him back down.
“Stay still,” a muffled voice said.
The masked man was standing by a small stone hearth, stirring a pot. He brought a wooden bowl to Neptune’s bedside. It was a thick broth of roots and dried meat. Without a word, the man helped him sit up and guided the spoon to his mouth.
Over the next few days, Neptune moved in an
