“How did that happen, I wonder?”
“Sorry?”
“Everyone knows that the princess was cursed to slumber for a hundred years, but the evil fairy was never supposed to be tied to her fate. How did she succumb to it as well?”
Talia shrugged. “It was a long time ago,” she said. “I couldn’t possibly know.”
An owl hooted in the distance. Leo startled.
“That’s an–”
“An owl, I know,” he said shortly. “I’m not a complete idiot. A little late for an owl though, isn’t it?”
Talia shrugged. “I think even the creatures forget the difference between night and day, here.”
Leo’s stomach rumbled loudly.
“You’ve not eaten?” Talia asked.
“I was up very early…”
“You need to eat to keep your strength up,” she said. “There is a clearing up ahead, and water. Come.”
A few minutes later, they reached a glade. A shaft of light fell from above, directly into the path of an old well.
“What's that?” Leo asked.
“A well.”
“I worked that part out, smart ass. I meant what does it do? I highly doubt it's benign, not in these woods.”
“Hmm. You are not a fool, after all. It's a wishing well.”
“That sounds surprisingly non-evil.”
“It will grant your wish, but... it will twist it. Curse it. So, you could wish for riches, but be murdered for them. Wish for love, only to have it snatched from you.”
“So, even if I was super specific, like, 'I wish to rescue the princess and free the kingdom and live happily ever after', I'd regret it?”
Talia did not smile. “It would find a way to ruin it. Don't risk it.”
“Have you ever?”
Talia did not reply. “You can drink from it safely,” she said instead. “But do not drop a coin, no matter how tempting. I’m going to scout ahead. There’s some mushrooms by the foot of that tree you should pick for later. I’ll be back soon.”
She swept off into the woods.
Leo stared at the bottom of the well, at the unfathomable, swirling darkness beneath, trying not to think about how many coins lay at the bottom, how many wishes had been uttered and regretted. What did they wish for? Safe passage? Prosperity for their loved ones? Riches? Happiness?
How could happiness be twisted? How could ‘I wish to live a long and happy life’ be made into a regret?
He didn’t want to know. He didn't want to risk it.
Instead, he chewed some of his provisions, picked the mushrooms Talia had suggested, and drew a deep drink from the well. It made him nervous, sipping from the depths, as if a wish would be snatched from him, regardless of the lack of an offering. He took a few sips and was done.
Talia returned not long after. “The river has burst its banks,” she said. “There’s a crossing several miles uphill, or a riskier crossing a mile downhill. Which would you prefer?”
Leo did not want to wear himself out so soon into the journey. He was not used to rough travel, and he didn’t want to give Talia any more room to doubt him by watching him wheeze and huff his way upstream.
“How risky are we talking?”
“It’s a log over high-speeding rapids.”
“Wide log?”
“Wider than you.”
“I will take the wide log route.”
They proceeded onwards in silence, creeping closer to the river. It was more of a ravine, a deep cut in the rocky earth. Leo waited for it to become shallower, for the distance between bank and riverbed to shrivel. It did not. When they reached the felled tree that was to be their bridge, Leo’s stomach churned like the waters below.
He had no fear of heights, but the distance made him dizzy.
“You first,” he said.
Talia sighed. “So chivalrous…” She flew across with the speed of a squirrel and turned back to face him. “It’s best if you don’t think about it.”
Leo suspected this was true, but wondered what else he could focus on with the water rushing beneath him. He stepped out onto the log, each movement careful and precise.
“I did say don’t think about it,” Talia said.
“I’m trying!”
He inched forward. The trunk was sturdy enough, but the moss was damp and slippery underfoot. It squeaked under his boots.
“The day is waning, prince…”
“You are not helping!”
He’d made it halfway. All downhill from here, Wilheim would say. Unfortunately, the tree inclined ever-so-slightly upwards, disrupting his balance by a thin but countable margin. The unsteadiness seemed to ripple up from his toes, turning his knees to jelly.
Another step. Two, three.
His foot slipped on a patch of moss. Talia jolted forward as his legs slid out from underneath him, and he crashed into the river below.
The water sucked him under. He spluttered to the surface, spitting out water, flailing. Talia was calling from above, but he could barely hear her over the rush of the current.
It pulled him downstream. He fought against it before deciding there was little point, and let himself be dragged. He grappled for a nearby rock and clung to it, his pack smacking against his back. His sword dragged along the riverbed. He wondered if he should unbuckle it, if he should dump his equipment entirely. It would be easier to swim, but the loss of the equipment could be just as deadly as the rapids. Wilheim would have known what to do. Wilheim wouldn’t have fallen off.
“Leo!”
Talia shouted from the bank. She’d climbed down remarkably quickly.
“I’m all right!” he insisted.
“Can you swim?”
“Yes, quite well, so I’m told, although I’ve never done it in so many clothes. Should I dump–”
Talia ignored him, running on ahead, to where the bank slid into the water. She glanced onwards, her expression grim.
“Huge waterfall?” asked Leo, dreading her answer.
“I’d say ‘moderate’.”
Leo tried to crane his neck over the rock, but he couldn’t see. He glanced at the distance between himself and the bank, trying to guess his trajectory.
Talia seemed to read his thoughts. “Can you make it?”
“Do I have a choice?”
He kicked himself away from the rock, struggling against the current as it tried to drag him under. His lungs burned in his chest with every stroke, every desperate lunge. The bank was slipping away from him. He kicked harder, forcing himself back, seizing fistfuls of earth with his hands.
Talia stood far back, as if the water were lava.
He dragged himself out, collapsing in a sodden heap on the mossy bank, gasping and coughing up water. Talia crept forward, her face very white.
“Are you hurt?” she asked.
Leo struggled into a sitting position, still breathing hard, and checked himself over. A few bruises and grazes, nothing that needed attending to although they hurt like hell. He shook his head, his throat too raw to speak.
“Can you move?”
He nodded.
“Then get up.”
“Give me… a minute…”
“No. You’re too cold. You need to keep moving. Get up, take off as many layers as you’re comfortable with, and move. We can’t stop to make camp here.”