Arrow Lake the water in my bones was running dry

It was foolish to think that strange witch would still be here. Ephraim knew that, and yet here he was, skimming stone and ice with his pointed little nose for some trace of a redhead with venomous green eyes.

Things were different for him these days. Somewhere around the time Qiao pointed out the eyes of a spirit upon him, Ephraim's luck shifted. Things occasionally happened that he could not explain, only that when they did, he always got the same sensation of fog rolling over his back and pricking miniscule fingers against his flesh.

A bear abandoning its half-eaten meal out of nowhere when he came near.

A tree falling across his path moments after he had already crossed to a safe location.

Ephraim tried not to think about these things much. Fate was not a concept he subscribed to. And yet, here he was, in the last place he had seen Qiao and the first place he had become aware of the taotaomo'na, seeking without acknowledgement, because it could not be real, after all.