I worry about Rigi. His wound doesn’t appear serious—he’s been flying out every night and catching food for himself without issue—but it also doesn’t seem to be healing properly. I’m afraid I might have offended Nakata, too. I didn’t mean to; she came by to look at me once when Rigi was with me, and I asked her to look at his wound. In my defense, I was feeling especially anxious about him at the time, so when Nakata insisted that she check my wounds first, I…um…might have gotten a bit impatient with her.

She doesn’t come by anymore, which only means she sends Giliana to check on me instead. I think we both like that arrangement. Giliana has looked at Rigi, but she admits she doesn’t know anything about avian anatomy, and so can’t say what might be the issue.

I try not to worry; I know there are some wounds, like the bites of certain venomous spiders or snakes, that can take months or even years to heal properly. Perhaps there is something like that about Rigi’s wound, too? As long as he’s eating and staying active, I suppose I shouldn’t borrow trouble over it.

My strength is nearly fully returned now, and I’m starting to wonder more about what to do and where to go next. It still galls me to leave the bonewalkers, but I just have no idea how to clean them out, short of arming the villagers and going in as a small army.

Those bonewalkers! The one with a dress, and the smaller, child-sized one… could it have been a family, once? I ask Makari, and he shrugs uncomfortably.

“That’s not how bonewalkers are,” he says, but he doesn’t sound particularly confident.

I think of the flowers placed around the ruins, and the remains of other dead posed around the village green, and I wonder.

The next day Makari presents me with a new staff. It’s not much—he claims it was a spare from the village armory—but it is stout, and straight, and the right size. He gives it to me, and then apologizes, saying that the village is particularly low on stores until the harvest comes, and he won’t be able to help provision Delkash or me. I think of the incident with Nakata and Rigi, and while I don’t want to ascribe any kind of malice to the situation, the timing of it does make me wonder if perhaps Nakata has spoken with Makari. At any rate, I have a staff again. Wherever we go next, we’ll just have to forage for food.

It’s four days after the bonewalker incident that I’m sitting at the table in Makari’s cabin, having graduated from bedrest just the day before, when Makari comes in quietly. I see him glance out the door behind him before closing it, and glance around the house as well, as if to make sure we’re alone.

“Makari?” I ask, unsure what to make of his behavior.

He nods quickly to me and joins me at the table. “I’ve been uncertain whether to say anything to you about this,” he says. “Nakata would say it’s all just superstition, but… Well, you remind me of myself a bit, when I was your age. I still say you should forswear that oath and be done with it—“

“Makari, I can’t—“

“I know, I know.” He holds his hands up in surrender. “Like I said, you remind me of myself when you do that. I’d be reluctant, too, same as you. Which is why… there might be another way to take care of those bonewalkers.”

He has my attention now. “What is it?”

“About a week’s travel north of here, just at the edge of the Tempest Hills, there’s an old ruin. Leastwise, they say there’s a ruin. No one around here will admit to having been there, you see—it’s old. Firstfolk stuff. People call it ‘Greywick.’ But supposedly there’s a pond there, blessed by the gods, you know, and—as my mother used to say—‘sovereign for the dark’.” He blinks at me. He seems jittery, nervous.

“That’s…great?” I say, unsure what to make of his hesitancy.

“Now, I know it doesn’t seem like much. And Nakata would kill me if she knew I was spreading this rumor: she insists that if such a pond existed, we’d have people from all over the Ironlands flocking through Raven Hill on a pilgrimage to the Hills.” He sighs. “She probably has the right of it, and she’s probably wiser than either of us. Best thing would still be for you to forswear the oath, but—“ he holds up his hands defensively, staving off my objections, “—barring that, it might be best to send you off after a wild hare, so to speak. Mind you, I’m not saying it’ll work. Only that it’s probably worth investigating, if you’re determined to root out those bonewalkers.”

“Nakata would probably be glad to see me gone, regardless of which way I go,” I say.

Makari smiles. “No question, you ruffled her feathers a bit. But she’s as fond of you as any of us. She certainly doesn’t want to see you hurt, and goodness knows there’s danger of all sorts to the north. But I say the danger up there is less than the danger in Foxhollow, and if braving the one increases your odds for facing the other, well, it seems like no decision at all, really.”

I nod slowly, trying not to jump up and run out the door right now. Information. I need information. “What can you tell me about these ruins? This Greywick?” I ask him. “Where can I find it?”

Makari’s information is second- or even third-hand at best, but he’s confident that the legends of Greywick tell of it being almost due north of the village, nestled in a small valley between two ridges. There’s a road, he says—more of a path, really, though he can’t vouch for how well-tended it will be beyond a few days from Raven Hill. Some travelers come through each year heading that way, though none ever admit to looking for the ruins.

As Makari speaks, I feel more strongly than ever that I need to go find those ruins. I certainly have no hope of fulfilling my vow with a blind frontal assault on Foxhollow. Perhaps a longer, more roundabout route will be the answer, instead.