A Threat of Shadows by JA Andrews

still see no sign that Ayda had noticed the wizard’s attempts, nor was there any change in her attitude. Had the wizard even cast a spell?
    “That makes no sense, blacksmith. You all will find your treasure, and I will find a forest with better trees than these. How could that feel wrong?”
    Brandson looked around at the others for support, then turned back to Ayda and said, “We might need you. What if we need to talk to the trees? They might know where to look. They might remember a treasure… or someone digging… a really long time ago… or something,” he finished lamely.
    A small smile crept across Ayda’s face. “I need to teach you a little bit about trees.” But she nodded. “All right, I’ll go over the hill with you.”
    She met Alaric’s gaze and beamed. Alaric grinned back before he realized that the fog had returned. His grin turned to a scowl.
    Maybe he should have encouraged her to leave.
    They continued up, slipping on wet rocks in a dull grey mist. All around him, the endless grey was punctuated with thumps and curses and the skittering of rocks down behind them.
    Reaching the top of the ridge in clouds so thick the group could barely see ahead of them, they hurried over, glad that no one in Kordan’s Blight could have seen them leave and glad that the other side, although steep, was more grass and low brush than rocks. Brandson, after a short nervous glance toward the greyness filling Bone Valley and an encouraging nod from Milly, led them down the slope.
    Alaric brought up the rear of their group, focused on each step, concentrating on the slope before him.
    With a shriek, Gustav tripped and tumbled down the hill, a blur of skinny limbs and a pointy hat. He fell a good way before his foot caught, yanking him to a stop with a yelp. He lay there stunned, his head lower on the hill than the white legs sticking out from beneath his robe. Gustav didn’t move and Alaric peered down past the rest of them at the old man.
    “Are you all right, Gustav?” Brandson asked.
    “If he’s dead, I get his share of the treasure,” Douglon called out.
    “Shut up,” Gustav groaned, and Ayda let out a peal of laughter that echoed through the fog.
    Gustav cursed and floundered, trying to right himself. As Alaric made his way down toward the old man, his own foot slipped, and he barely caught himself.
    It was Milly who got to the wizard first, slipping and sliding down to reach him.
    Gustav waved her away, scolding and complaining. Patiently, she ignored his protests and helped him untangle his foot, then retrieved his pointy, star-swirled hat, which had tumbled a bit farther down the hill.
    He smoothed out his muddy robe.
    “Thank you,” he muttered to Milly as he crammed on his bent hat. “I’m fine,” and he marched down the hill.
    Milly waited while the others made their way down to her.
    “You’re too good, Milly,” Ayda said. “Your kindness is wasted on that old man.”
    “Kindness can’t be wasted,” Milly replied. “If it needs gratitude, it isn’t really kindness.”
    “It might not be wasted, but it’s certainly unappreciated.” Ayda glanced at Brandson who was watching Milly with bright eyes. “Or at least unappreciated by the wizard.”
    When the rain started, it came with huge drops that plopped onto Alaric’s head and shoulders with irritating force. He pulled his cloak tight against his neck, but drop after drop found their way through, dribbling down his back. It took close to an hour before the ground leveled off and they reached the edge of a pine forest. Sunset was still hours away, but between the rain and the trees, they walked through a deep gloom.
    With the pattering of rain sounding distant on the branches high above them, Alaric noticed the unnatural silence for the first time. There were no birds, no squirrels, not even many bugs. The forest smelled stale and forgotten.
    Brandson caught his eye. “Creepy, isn’t it?”
    Alaric cast out a thin, subtle wave,