The morning was wet with mist that stuck to your hair and skin, pressing more heavily upon you. Ashen went first, his boots sinking into the yielding earth as the others followed him in silence. The woods were thinning, being replaced by low grass and the steady sound of rushing water from somewhere beyond the hill.
Maric went first. "You did not like that old man last night, did you?
Ashen continued on. "I don't like people staring at me like they already know my name."
"Older folks are like that. They pretend to be smarter than they are," Maric said with a playful attempt at humor.
No, Ashen said, looking over her shoulder. "He wasn't faking.".
Lysa spoke for the first time that morning. "Then perhaps he knows something you should.".
Ashen remained silent.
They topped the hill, and the river lay below them wide and sluggish, its surface shining softly like dull glass. It wasn't noisy, but there was a low, insistent drone under the sound of the water.
Do you hear that?" Lysa inquired, cocking her head.
Maric scowled. "Listen to what? It's water.".
Ashen was at the riverbank, letting the water run through his fingers. It was cold enough to numb his skin, but there was something else — a gentle hum, a beat in the distance that he couldn't quite place.
It's not water alone," he added.
Maric smiled to himself in silence. "What, now the river will share stories too?
Lysa took a step forward and knelt beside Ashen. She listened intently, her eyes contracting as if the noise held words she was unable to hear. "It sounds sort of like. voices."
The mist thickened beyond, rolling low over the water until it appeared as if something was moving beneath. Dark and indistinct shapes were moving beneath it without breaching the surface.
Ashen rose and watched. "We cross here."
"Oh my god." Maric cried out, his grin faltering. "That is not cold water. There is something in it."
"I know," Ashen replied. "That's why we cross."
The water moved slowly, but the river was deep enough to make every step uncertain. The chill bit their legs, up to their waists before they reached the middle. Ashen gazed forward, but the forms below shifted, always keeping pace with them, never drawing closer or further away.
Halfway across, a voice cut through the murmur — not a loud voice, but one that was clear enough to listen to. It used a language that none of them knew, and yet Ashen felt the meaning thrust against his mind like a hand on his chest.
Lysa was frozen. "Did you hear—
Yes," said Ashen, but his voice was weaker than he would have liked.
The words once more, soft now, plunged beneath the surface as the shapes disappeared from view.
When they crossed over to the other side, the fog cleared and the clamor stopped except for the river.
Maric shook the water from his hair and growled, "Remind me why we didn't just cross the bridge that time?"
"Because," Ashen said, shaking water from his sleeve, "that's where they'd be looking for us to cross."
"They?" Maric inquired, but Ashen was already in motion.
Lysa remained at the bank for a moment, gazing back out across the water. "It wasn't warning us," she whispered, as if to herself. "It was asking for something." Ashen overheard her, but he didn't turn back. Some questions were best left unspoken, at least for now.