As We Go Along - Ch. 5

 We rode all night and never left the woods. After hours of silence and darkness, I began to nod off. (I hadn't worried about nodding off, because who could nod off in an all-new world? But I did. It's amazing how fast the foreign can become the familiar.) My grip on Colin's waist slipped, and I tilted sideways, forgetting there was no bed to support me.

Someone caught my shoulder and shoved me upright. "Look sharp," Braydon grunted.

I blinked. What? Where was I?

Colin started. He hadn't fallen asleep, but he'd definitely been on autopilot for a while.

"We'd best set up camp for the night," Carrington said.

"In the Darkwood?" Colin asked.

"That's where we are, isn't it?" Braydon replied. He halted, and the other horses halted, too.

Colin helped me dismount, and I was propped against a tree like a piece of luggage while they removed real luggage from the horses, set up tents, and started a fire. I didn't do much. For one, I was tired. For another, I was hearing voices.

They were airy whispers as loud as shouts. I couldn't make out a word of it, despite the volume, but they freaked me out, mostly because it was clear the others weren't hearing them. They just went about their business, unperturbed. Even the horses seemed relaxed.

All except Braydon's horse. Its ears had pricked up, and it was staring at me as I quietly had a panic attack. The horse's master noticed. He followed his beast's gaze to my face. He frowned. "What's the matter?" His hand went for the hilt of his sword.

"I hear something," I said, which was an understatement. The whispers grew louder and louder. I could barely hear Braydon, and he wasn't a quiet talker.

"Not you, too," he grumbled. "Just what we need - another Colin."

Colin looked up at me, and I realized he looked as terrified as I did. He did hear the voices, but he was hiding it. Why?

"Maybe it's nothing," I said. The whopper of the year. It was deafening now, a constant chant so loud it threatened to knock me over.

"What does it sound like?" Vesperzo asked.

"Whispers," I said. "Loud ones."

He raised his eyebrows. "I see. And what are they saying?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's in another language."

Colin straightened up (he'd been hammering in tent pegs) and stared at me appraisingly. He didn't say anything.

"Perhaps you're overtired," Carrington said kindly. "The wind can play strange tricks on the ears."

"There is no wind," Colin whispered. He went back to hammering.

I sat down, but the whispers didn't stop. What was going on?