The Promise of No Words

Chapter 7

“That’s a terrible excuse for a trail.”

The bunny looked up at the steep slope, covered in sharp rocks and thick roots, most of which was hidden by moss that shone in the rain. The slope appeared more like the backbone of a buried animal, making it slippery and hard to walk on. Every step made the shale move, clinking and sliding, ready to make us fall if we slipped.

The ground was so wet from the rain that it felt like a trap. Every step I made went deep into the mud and my boots made a wet, reluctant squelching sound. The cold made its way through the holes in my pants, reaching my socks and pulling me down.

Bunny walked beside me, making no sound as his bare feet pressed into the ground with great accuracy. There’s no pressure, no sliding—just the sound of skin touching the wet stone. His silence didn’t show grace. There was a lot of tension. With every step, he looked annoyed, his breathing was shallow and his eyes seemed to blame the hill for being there.

I reminded myself that Velk had told us to do it this way as I adjusted the straps on my pack.

“He also says shit with ghost songs and finger dances. Was it possible he was pointing to a cliff?

I didn’t answer. Each shock made my prosthetic arm feel uncomfortable. I moved my weight to the right side, this time more slowly. Bunny ran ahead, stopped, sighed and then sat down on all fours.

“Fine. I’ll scout.”

He disappeared into the bushes, leaving only a glimmer of fur and darkness. Even after he was gone, I could still make out what he was saying.

"Fucking bard magic. Fucking trees. Fucking mystery maps."

The old storeys claimed that deserters and oath-dodgers would eventually end up here.

The path, if you could even call it that, twisted westward and seemed to be deliberately made to be forgotten. Just as Velk had said it would. The paper was fragile, the ink was barely visible, yet the lines were drawn with a care that suggested the writer had learned much in the dark.

This was not a typical journey. It didn’t match the shape of the land, staying narrow at the bends and steep at the slopes. It went under branches that were too low and travelled along ridges where the ground was hard to walk on. The route was formed by those who were trying to hide from others.

Thomir referred to it as the Ghostway.

He had told me that it was more than a trail—it was a lifeline. A final opportunity. A secret promise made by those who had vanished—refugees escaping the destruction of their provinces, deserters leaving their army and identity and those who refused to keep their oaths fleeing the pressure of old traditions. They all arrived here, in some way, because of the same quiet call.

And now, we were experiencing the same thing.

I discovered the first set of papers an hour after I started looking.

Near the trunk of a dead pine, I found them partly burned, with edges that had turned black and curled like dried leaves. Some people were able to keep writing, though barely. Names, dates and signs of authority. One contract was made using blood that was still wet.

Not paper. Skin parchment. I held the object in my hands and tried not to vomit.

I could hear Bunny before I could see him.

"Found something worse than that trail," he muttered. "A camp. Abandoned. Or perhaps they were raided. Smells like old spellfire."

I carefully folded the parchment and put it into my coat. “Lead.”

He led us in the direction of the northeast. The trees were changing—there were fewer pines and more ash and birch. Some of the trees were burned. Others carved. I didn’t recognise some of the symbols, but Bunny did.

“Contract runes. Old ones. You can tell they’ve cut the trees deeply into their bark. That’s fear. That’s someone hoping their oath doesn’t turn against them.

The camp consisted only of a circle of stones and ashes. There were no bodies, only blood. A bit of cloth caught on a branch—it was indigo blue and marked with ink.

We noticed the click before we saw her.

A small silver pen dagger was aimed at us. A girl was crouching behind a tree, her eyes as sharp as glass and she was holding a leather-bound book in one hand.

She gestured for me not to move.

Bunny looked up, smiling. “She’s mute.”

Never take lightly someone who can aim well.

She lifted the book and turned over a page. Ink shimmered. Words have just appeared, written not long ago.

‘Who asked you to come?’

I lifted my hands slowly into the air.

“No one. We’re just here for a little while. We were travelling with Velk.

She paused.

I turned the page again.

‘The harp-singer?’

I nodded.

She remained cautious as she stood. She was much taller than I thought and seemed to be about seventeen. A small scar could be seen along the lower edge of her lip. It was as if she had been burned by something that left a mark that never went away.

Bunny said, “That’s a tongue brand.”

She watched his lips as he spoke. She didn’t move, but her eyes got smaller.

She sent another letter.

‘Name’s Mara. I was once responsible for writing contracts for nobles. I won’t write a lie until I can’t write anything else.’

I noticed the ink bottle on her belt—it was dark and rust-coloured and as thick as blood.

“Is that…?”

She took the cap off the bottle. She dipped her pen in the ink. Wrote:

‘Oath-ink. Not easy to find. Root-blood and venom are used to make it. Records truth on paper.’

Bunny whistled. “Dangerous stuff. Are you really sure you want to come with us?

She looked him straight in the eye. She then took care to write:

You do not have to swear an oath.

I looked straight into her eyes. “No.”

You’re not afraid of that?

I’m comfortable with not fitting in.

She smiled a little, showing she approved and then shrugged and grabbed her bag.

Bunny was watching the whole time and let out a groan. “Oh, great. Another person who is quiet and has trust problems. Why don’t we gather all the odd people and put on a circus?

She wrote quickly and showed him the page.

‘I’d rather go with a brave person than a cowardly shapeshifter with fleas.’

He recoiled. “You little—!”

“I like her,” I whispered and that made them both stop talking.

We set up our camp by a peaceful stream as the sun was setting. Thomir had been still for days, but his chest kept moving up and down. I wiped his forehead with a damp cloth as Bunny looked unhappy and Mara checked the treeline. When she got back, she had roots and bitter greens with her. We didn’t say anything while we ate.

The fire burned gently between us, not wanting to be noticed.

Bunny was the first to crack.

“You’re all damaged,” he said quietly.

I looked up for a moment. He wasn’t trying to hurt me. Just… observant. A bit bitter.

I paused for a little while, then responded.

Most things, in the end, were worth the effort to fix.

Mara didn't smile, but she dipped her pen again and wrote something I couldn’t quite make out. She ripped the page out and placed it in my lap.

I waited until she wasn’t around to cheque the letter.

There are people who don’t need to be fixed. Just a person to walk beside me.’

I folded the note, put it next to the map from Velk and relaxed to watch the stars.

It looked as if broken glass was all over the black sky.

Perhaps that was all we needed.