Frederick

It was a strange sight to be sure, if any but the animals of the forest were there to see it. In the middle of a clearing in the dead hours of the night a small flickering flame was being fed by a child whose small demeanour masked any true guess of age. After he watched the fire for a moment, making sure it still burned, he moved a tree stump closer to it, slowly and methodically. After it had been moved he started to shuffle over another stump. A large thud and a gasping of air startled the child and he slipped in the mud...

“Frederick... I would have moved you.”

“At the way that yer movin lad!!! Not bloody likely... besides I am freezing... “ Jonah looked over to his companion and his heart filled with pain and sorrow at his poor mentor’s condition. Once he had been a proud defender of the Folk, once he had been a warrior, once he and Rickers had passed through the Mists as light through glass but now... the child turned his head to the rat and shivered... Rickers was not well. He was bound in what Frederick had called Undeath, as Frederick was as well, ever since that one horrible day...

The woodling noticed the child’s demeanour right away and cursed his own impatience. Frederick knew his plight weighed heavy on the young reagent’s heart and he knew how tenuous the child’s grip on reality was; “My lord,” Frederick addressed as properly as he could manage, “it truly was a minor inconvenience, your humble servant begs your forgiveness .”

Jonah turned back to the woodling... tears in his eyes and a smile beginning to form on his lips... “I hate it when you call he that Frederick...”

The undead woodling cracked a toothy grin of broken pebbles, “Then quit being a dolt and go find yourself some supper... and get enough for two...”

Jonah’s eyes widened... “You mean...?”

The woodling’s grin faded and he noded his head... “Yes, she is coming.”