They Aren’t Names. They Are Truths.

The Blue Tree Forest had become quieter.

Not because it was empty.

Because the fairies were gone.

The blue canopy still whispered overhead. Leaves drifted lazily from branch to branch. Somewhere in the distance something knocked twice against wood.

Tock.

Tock.

Tess looked toward the sound.

"What was that?"

Limbo never slowed.

"I wouldn't concern myself with it."

Clint shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked a blue stone from the path.

"I liked it better when the little psychos were around."

"They're still around," Limbo said.

Clint stopped walking.

"I don't see any."

"You weren't meant to."

They continued another few yards before Tess finally spoke.

"Where'd they go?"

"The Gallows."

Neither Tess nor Clint answered.

The name alone seemed to swallow whatever conversation had been coming next.

Clint looked over his shoulder.

“Where’s Sloane?”

The path behind them was gone. Blue trunks stood where it had been only moments before.

“She stopped,” Limbo said.

“Then we go back.”

“She left the path.”

Clint stared at him. “Then we find her.”

Limbo looked at the wall of trees behind them.

“There is no back.”

Clint remained still for another moment. Then Tess took his arm and pulled him forward.

A twig snapped somewhere off the trail.

Clint's head whipped toward the sound.

Limbo sighed.

"Did you hear that?"

"Yeah."

"That was something deciding whether it was hungry."

Clint frowned.

"For us?"

"For anything."

The three walked on.

A cool breeze drifted through the branches.

The trees answered with a thousand rattling leaves.

Limbo tilted his head.

"The Leviathan is breathing today."

Tess looked up.

"The what?"

"The Leviathan."

She laughed.

"You're joking."

"I rarely do."

Another whistle floated through the woods.

Thin.

Almost musical.

Clint smiled.

"Finally. A bird."

"No."

"What then?"

"A man."

Silence.

"...Or what remains of one."

Clint instinctively glanced toward the sound out of the corner of his eye.

Limbo smacked the back of his head.

Clint yelped.

"What the hell?"

"I said don't."

"You didn't say—"

"You were about to look."

"I wasn't—"

"You were."

Clint rubbed the back of his head.

"Have you learned nothing?"

The whistle came again.

Closer.

Then it stopped.

Limbo continued walking.

"The fairies may be at the Gallows."

He looked neither left nor right.

"But there are far worse things that move through these woods."

Neither Tess nor Clint looked into the trees again.

Several minutes passed before Clint rubbed something sticky between his fingers.

He frowned.

"What is this?"

Blue sap coated the tips of his fingers.

It smelled surprisingly sweet.

Before he realized what he was doing, he lifted them toward his mouth.

Limbo caught his wrist.

Hard.

"What are you doing?"

Clint blinked.

"I was just—"

"Have you learned nothing?"

Limbo pulled an old cloth from his pocket and shoved it into Clint's free hand.

"Wipe it off."

Clint obeyed.

The sap soaked into the cloth almost instantly.

"What would've happened?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know?"

"I never cared to find out."

That answer bothered Clint far more than if Limbo had simply said it would kill him. That answer bothered Clint far more than if Limbo had simply said it would kill him.

Tess broke the silence.

"So..."

She looked around the endless blue woods.

"How much farther to the Sanctuary?"

Limbo studied the trail ahead.

“Farther than it was.”

Tess frowned. “What does that mean?”

The thick underbrush that had crowded them since entering the Forest had begun to retreat.

Bushes leaned away from the path.

The trees stood farther apart.

The trail widened without explanation.

"The Forest would like us to reach the Gallows soon."

"What?"

"It is making the journey easier."

"You mean..."

"The Forest is ushering us."

Neither Tess nor Clint liked the sound of that.

"I thought we chose where we walked."

"You do."

Limbo stepped over an exposed root.

"The Forest chooses how difficult the walk will be.”

"I still don't understand this place," Tess admitted.

"Nothing has a proper name."

Limbo looked back.

"It does."

"The Blue Tree Forest?"

"Yes."

"The Gallows?"

"Yes."

"The Sanctuary?"

"Yes."

"The Weeping Willow?"

"Yes."

She folded her arms.

"Those aren't names."

"They are truths."

She frowned.

"They're boring."

"The truth always is."

Tess rolled her eyes.

"I suppose."

"The sky is blue."

He pointed upward.

"The ocean is blue."

He motioned ahead.

"The Forest is blue."

"The truth requires no decoration."

She considered that for a moment before shrugging.

"I still think Azul Forest sounds cooler."

Limbo snorted.

"It does."

Tess grinned.

"I knew it."

"But it wouldn't be true."

"I've been meaning to ask something."

"What?"

"Simon."

Limbo's expression remained unchanged.

"What about him?"

"Why does everyone call him Simon?"

"It isn't his name."

"It isn't?"

"No."

"Then why Simon?"

"Because of the children's game."

Understanding slowly spread across Tess's face.

"...Simon Says."

Limbo nodded.

"Everyone does as Simon says."

"Or?"

"There are consequences."

Clint scratched his chin.

"So... everybody works for Simon."

Limbo was quiet for a long moment.

"No."

"No?"

"No one works for Simon."

Tess frowned.

"Then why does everybody do what he wants?"

Limbo looked ahead.

The trees had almost completely opened into a broad avenue leading somewhere unseen.

His answer came quietly.

"That..."

he said,

"...is a much harder question."