Miro’s directions had been imprecise at best. "Just keep going due north from Mallorin. Don’t worry, they will find you."
A bird with a red crest burst from the bushes in front her, shrieking. Amber screamed, her hand clutched to her breast. After a moment, realising she was in no danger, she calmed herself.
With her thoughts fixed on her ailing friend, Amber deactivated the seeker and put it away, setting as best a pace as she could through the heavy undergrowth.
~
SOMETHING in the character of the forest had changed. If anything, it felt even more ancient, wilder. The trees were much bigger, their trunks so massive that a single slice from them would make a round table big enough for a hundred men. A hundred big men, Amber estimated, walking past a particularly large specimen.
The sheer immensity of the growth around her was startling. Even frightening. At least there was less moisture and thick undergrowth to push through. The trees were spaced far apart and Amber was able to make much better headway, her posture more erect as she forged her way ahead, occasionally checking her direction with the seeker.
She saw a game trail to her left running in the same direction as she wanted to go. With a shrug she joined the trail. It grew larger, more defined as she walked. About the same time she realised she was on a path made by humans, she heard a voice behind her.
"Holy Eternal, what do we have here? Are you lost, young lady?"
Amber jumped and screamed, whirling about, holding her hands close to her mouth. She saw nothing but the rich dark green of the forest.
"The little deer startles easily," another voice spoke, this time from her left.
They sounded so close, but she still couldn’t see them!
"Where are you? Come out."
"Why should we, my little deer?" the first voice spoke.
"A fine jest," said the second one. "Dear deer. Why are you not laughing, my doe-eyed beauty?"
"Show yourselves at once!" Amber said, stamping her foot.
"My dear, you have a temper," laughed the first voice.
"Do you bring a gift, little doe?" said the second.
"I… I don’t know anything about a gift."
"Then we will have to shoot you full of arrows!" the first voice said, still light and playful.
Amber had heard of the things called arrows. Some boys at the Academy had told her stories of the Dunfolk, the primitive people who lived in the forest and kept to themselves so long as they were left alone.
She hadn’t believed the stories at the time. They had said the Dunfolk tied a piece of string to a flexible stick. They put sharp sticks against the string, and when pulled back, the string released the sharp stick to penetrate and hopefully kill an animal. It had seemed strange and far-fetched; she had been sure the boys had been laughing at her.
"Arrows? What are arrows?" she said, hoping to bring them out.
She heard a sharp twang. Something whistled past her ear, so fast it was just a blur. The breath of it startled her; she flinched, closing her eyes. Amber heard a thunk behind her.
Opening her eyes, she turned and looked. A beautifully crafted piece of wood, perfectly straight, stood quivering in the trunk of one of the great trees. It had been spliced with small red feathers at its base, and she could just make out the steel of its sharpened head, stuck deep into the tree.
"That, little doe, is an arrow," the second voice said.
Amber reached up and touched a finger to her ear. She felt wetness, and inspecting her finger, saw red blood.
"Just a little nick," the first voice said. "I take it you have not been invited to Loralayalana?"
"If she had, she would have said," the second voice responded. "She does not bring a gift, she has not been invited. We should kill her now."
"Wait!" said Amber. "I… I did bring a gift."
She thought frantically, what did she carry on her?
"Here!" she said. She reached under the neck of her dress, withdrawing an emerald pendant. It sparkled on its silver chain.
There was a rustle in the undergrowth, then, one moment there was nobody there, the next a small man stood in front of her, facing Amber with a look of suspicion on his face.
He was perhaps a foot shorter than Amber, with a ruddy glow to his cheeks and small, wizened features. Amber’s breath caught; it was the first time she had seen one of the elusive Dunfolk.
He wore clothing of brown and green, dark like the forest they were in, and soft shoes of deerskin.
And he carried a bent weapon — a bow, Amber remembered it was called. It was arched with restrained power, an arrow fitted to the string, pointed at her. Her breath quickened; Amber hoped he wouldn’t release the string, either by accident or intent.
"What is it?" he said. He was the owner of the first voice.
"It’s a necklace."
"What does it do?"
Amber thought she had best get creative. "Well, it shines in sunlight, starlight or moonlight. Given as a gift to a woman, it can cause her to fall in love with you."
"Good, good," the hunter said. He relaxed his pressure on the string and, walking forward, took the necklace from her hands.