Riordan started walking again. He almost didn’t want to say anything, but that wouldn’t have been fair to Daniel. It wasn’t like the man knew why that was a sore subject.

 

We better get moving, Riordan thought, If you are right about our location, we’re better off than I thought, but we’ve still got a hike ahead of us. Are you going to be okay for that?

 

Daniel snorted, waving a hand down his floating body. “Because I’m clearly going to be the one walking it.”

 

If you weren’t looking so exhausted, I’d be less concerned. For all I know, maybe traveling is actually making you more tired. It’s not like I’m a ghost expert, Riordan grumbled, picking his way down another hill.

 

The closer they got towards the shore, the more and more he could tell that the ground had been formed as rolling dunes. It was like there couldn’t be a flat area without it having a slight rise or wave and hills were more common, even if they weren’t terribly tall. That was a slight exaggeration, but when Riordan had to haul himself up and down every rise and his shoulders were only a foot off the ground, he felt each and every one.

 

“Are there ghost experts?” Daniel asked after a moment.

 

There has to be, Riordan thought with a shrug. The problem is that they are probably either crazy death mages or the people who clean up after them. I’m not sure how much they would care about what it’s like to be a ghost rather than how to enslave or banish one.

 

“Well, that’s grim.”

 

Riordan winced, kicking up more dirt as he picked up his pace. He was going to wear himself if he kept up the badger equivalent of a fast jog, but that would both let him put more distance between trouble and himself and get rest in earlier so he could travel under the cloak of night. He actually could maintain a faster pace in his badger form than his human one. Being a honey badger always seemed to give him more endurance.

 

Still, it was helpful that he didn’t need to breathe to use badger-to-ghost telepathy, however that was working.

 

I’m hoping that the shifters have a shaman. Spirits aren’t like ghosts, but they do still exist in that same metaphysical space, invisible without magical senses but able to perceive the physical world. As you get further away from the physical world, it apparently diverges more, but at least shamanic practices encourage understanding and supporting spirits as much as controlling or banishing them.

 

“I hope so,” Daniel replied, “Real answers would help so much. I’ve never had to doubt my own body and existence like this before. Never mind how much it sucks to realize I’m dead, I don’t even know what I really am now. That’s a major kick in the proverbial nuts.”

 

I can’t imagine, Riordan mused. I mean, I was raised as a shifter, so I never had to wonder about what I was or how it worked, even if I’ve been realizing through this how much I never questioned or understood. I’ve had major changes in things that define who I am, but never what I am.

 

“Well, I can’t recommend it as an experience so far. I hope you never have to go through this.” Daniel blinked, considering what he said. “Except that I guess everyone goes through something like this when they die, so eventually you’ll have to?”

 

At the rate things have been going, that may end up happening sooner rather than later. Riordan tried to keep his mental tone to complaining rather than whining, but he wasn’t sure he succeeded. It was way harder to control his mental voice compared to a real one because it was all right there in his head.

 

Cresting yet another hill, this one also having a break in the trees, Riordan paused for a break and to survey his options. He could see part of a road towards his left, which just supported angling more north as well as west. There also looked to be a tangle of fallen trees and juniper bushes around a cluster of hills over there, which would make for poor footing for two-legged creatures. It would be a great place to make a burrow without anyone being able to sneak up on him.

 

Running downhill gained him some speed, but only the idea that he was resting soon kept Riordan from flagging entirely. It took him a moment to notice that Daniel had fallen silent again, looking spaced out. They were both in less than ideal condition. He considered trying to draw the young man back out of his haze again, but left it for now. He needed the attention for the run. He was too durable to break his neck if he tripped down the damn hill, but it would still hurt.

 

Riordan fell into a bit of a trance himself until he had almost reached the edge of the brush piles. He glanced around for Daniel again. And then froze.

 

Daniel was gone.

 

Riordan ran in a little circle of helpless frenzy before he forced himself to calm down and think about it. There were only so many options. Daniel could be gone for good. If that was the case, there was nothing Riordan could do about it. Daniel could be invisible. Again, nothing he could do about that but hope he was able to manifest again after some time had passed. Daniel could have wandered off. That seemed unlikely, given he was already zoning out when Riordan last checked. Either way, Daniel left no trail and Riordan could search indefinitely if either of the first options were the case. The ghost seemed able to find him, drawn by Riordan’s magnetic personality, so he would have to hope he’d return in that case, or if he’d just gotten left behind somehow.

 

Which left one option that Riordan could try to check. Daniel could have returned to the spell space. They weren’t sure how Daniel had ended up out of it after Riordan’s dream, after all. It could have been temporary. Or something about the statue spells might have affected him. The killing tree still had its ropes wrapped around Daniel’s soul, even if he’d been out and talking. It couldn’t have taken much to pull him back in with that kind of connection.

 

The only problem is that Riordan wasn’t sure if the dream would repeat either. Still, he was exhausted and it was worth a try. If he didn’t end up in the dream or didn’t find a trace of Daniel there, he could try searching with a more rested and alert mind.

 

Decision made, Riordan picked his way over the top of the brush pile. Several tall pines had tumbled into each other, knocking their roots out of the hillside. Their needles were all brown and dead though, so it wasn’t recent. He could smell other small animals making their homes in the piles. They sensed him as an unknown threat and kept away. Spotting a space where the ground was mostly visible in a narrow strip near the middle of the pile, Riordan worked his way over and then tried to dig a burrow.

 

He quickly ran into an issue. This hill was very sandy, which explained how the trees had all gone down so easily. His hole kept collapsing or filling with sand. He huffed at the dirt, feeling irrationally offended, like the ground had done it on purpose just to spite him. Trying at another spot made it clear that he’d have to find a whole other hill to get something different. He didn’t have the energy for that, plus there was a reason he’d chosen the pile.

 

It wasn’t like he had to be fully burrowed underground. He could make an indent under a thicker part of the brush, letting the heavily interlaced pine branches become his roof. A proper burrow just would have made him feel safer, even if it was an illusion. To be denied even that meagre comfort rankled him.

 

He didn’t have time to sulk though. With another loud grumpy huff, Riordan dug himself a nest of soft sandy dirt sheltered under the brush pile. It was dry and smelled strongly of clean sand and pine. Riordan curled up tightly and tried to will himself to sleep despite his worry and unease.

 

The tension wouldn’t ease and his mind wouldn’t stop whirling, no matter how much the only way to be productive about his anxieties was to set them aside enough to sleep. His concern over Daniel had sent another shock of adrenaline through his system, keeping him wired. His muscles had turned into giant knots. He couldn't get comfortable enough to sleep.

 

With effort, he pulled himself out his mind and off of focusing on everything that was wrong. He tried to think about the things that were okay instead. He’d shaken off active pursuit and found a place to rest with some safety. He’d found out where he was better and would be reaching shifter territory tomorrow so it wouldn’t be just him dealing with this problem. He’d gotten along with Daniel today, actually feeling less lonely for the first time in ages.

 

The ground was soft and ran gently over his fur whenever he moved. He had enough space to curl less tightly, tail still flopping over his snout once he settled. It smelled like life here, even if the trees were dead. He could smell plants and animals and hear the wind.

 

The wind seemed to chime and he slipped into it so gently that the transition surprised him.

 

Riordan once more found himself standing before the tree of light. The space seemed a little more defined than the previous night. The music in the wind sounded clearer, buoying him. Stars seemed to twinkle overhead, or perhaps it was faerie lights flickering the air. The lights flickered, hard to pin down yet beautiful. He still stood on nothingness, but closer to the tree itself, he could see the impression of grass rising from it and swaying gently in the breeze.

 

And on that not-quite-grass lay Daniel, still as the grave.