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He came to be from a sleep (or, perhaps, a dream?) drawn out in duration.

Long time abounds in that place. A man might get lost.

Her final words to him.

How?

She looked away. Looked out the wide window of her kitchen.

Morning now. Bright sun light filled the void between them.

After the night in her bed.

On the night before he began. To the Terminus.

Her nude body.

Golden in candlelight. Her raven hair. Wax and wick and burning. Her taste still…

She turned her head back to him. Smiled.

Don’t go. Stay here. With me.

He continued packing his pack.

She rose. Took a Charm from around her slender neck. Handed it to him.

Take this. You’ll need it.

Why?

You don’t want to know.

He nodded.

He left.

---

He remembers.

As if time stopped.

His walk to this place. Between hard steel parallel rails rusted red. Where once railroad cars went. He follows the desecrated path of those before him.

But no longer. The remembrance fades.

Now, he opens his eyes.

He’s supine. On soft grass. Running water. Nearby.

It’s day. I’ve felt like I’ve slept forever.

Overhead, low clouds, gray and fast, river past.

He shakes off the last of the dream.

And sits up.

The Charm. He involuntary checks. Still hard under his shirt.

The giants. He feels their stomps. Distant.

He knows it’s time to move. Into the deep forest. Before they’re roused fully.

He stands. Unsteady. At first.

Regains his stride and finds his pack.

And the stomping nears.

He takes a Whisperer.

Primes the device. Lets it go out of his hands.

And he goes the other way.

He doesn’t look back.

He moves.

The giants follow the Whisperer. He hears them move after it.

He moves between the cedars. Dark with secrets. Like her. Like last night.

He keeps going. Further and farther.

The stomping fades into a memory.

He stops for a moment. Takes a swig of beer from his canteen. Closes his eyes to concentrate his ears.

It’ll be night soon.

Cold pours over him. He clutches the Charm.

The sun sets and the world grows dark.

The clouds have cleared.

A solitary moon rises in the East.

Smells of wood smoke. Of cooking meat.

Her shade. She’s next to him.

Follow your nose. You’ll find a cabin. You won’t survive the night here.

Her warmth.

You’re a witch.

Does it really matter? Her voice warm as well.

And he pushes through the dark trees until…a light, distant.

There you go.

He looks back. Her shade, gone.

The cabin beckons. He makes for the light.

And it all goes dark.