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”Looking suitably admonished she replied, “I apologise, Sir Donald. As my husband has already told you, the only armed men we’ve seen, are those out to rob us. You can understand that I am naturally wary. Of course you are welcome to join us, if it is your wish.”“If it would be no trouble then we would be glad to accompany you.”“Good, well that’s settled then. Let’s get going, we’ve lost enough time as it is,” Paul said.The two boys looked at each other and smiled. They were about the same size and assumed they were about the same age, which they were.It was starting to get towards evening when thoughts turned towards making camp. Paul turned the wagon into a likely looking camp site.“This should do us for this evening.”Donald smiled and shook his head. “You’re not serious, are you?”“Why? What’s wrong with it?”“Well for starters it’s visible from the road, also if you look, there are several trails leading off into the trees. This tells me, without really checking, that this is what. .He stammers, catching himself. Now there is nothing. No bodies, not even shadows.He must proceed. He wills himself to proceed, wills the procession of his body into darkness; although his mind has no part in it. Reason--the same woman he now pursues wrested his years ago. Before the many.Tristan edges himself to the other side of the narrow path, where there is space to move. Now the lamp rests in the center. He surveys what little he can. There are many paths from here. Many places to hide.He knows she is here, among many. He feels them. He feels the one. Her. He feels her, inside the many. Which of the bodies are hers and which are her own body—divided—this is harder to discern. The half dead break apart and halves of the one come together in mutilated form.A voice beckons from where hung the spider:...Come to me…That voice...was it her? Was that really... her? No echo follows her voice. The power of that voice swallows itself.Tristan looks back. At the entrance.
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