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With the low-lying silhouette of Oldcastle sprawling out before them in the distance, Zharkov could not help but feel some relief that their journey was almost over. The weeks previous hadn't held much change for the foreigner, except that he had made the decision to remain in the capitol, for a variety of reasons. The amount of work to be found in the city was just as good as in Northport, and though he was removed from many friendly faces, the assurance from one of his partners that his new placement would be both useful and lucrative had caused him to make up his mind to stay. The weather was also much more bearable, he thought, with fewer of those fierce ocean fronts to put up with, though the whole damnable country seemed to be drenched with rain at times, anyway. With that decision made, he had remained in the dingy little inn, content to rent a cheap room and set up shop there, as it were.

He spent his days as he had in Northport, quickly picking up work on the docks of the Thrithing and returning to the Fox and Hounds after the sun set. His situation was made bearable by the friendship he had struck up with one of the servants there, and despite their uneasy start, Zharkov found the man to be good company. Kozel was such an industrious little creature, but he always seemed to find a good time to kick back and share a cup of tea. Zharkov would share news he'd heard from their respective homelands, or they would gossip about the goings on at the inn, all of which was as juicy as you'd expect from a dirty little establishment west of the river. Best of all, though, were Kozel's surprising cooking abilities, which Zharkov had had the pleasure of sampling several times. There was no doubt in his mind that his existence in Palisade would not have been nearly as pleasant if he had not chanced to meet Kozel, and he was glad for it.

Which was why the man was sitting next to him in the little cart they had been driving for nearly a day, headed to the rural town of Oldcastle. Kozel knew the country better than Zharkov did, and by the Okrainan's reasoning, he had needed a vacation anyway. Though it wasn't truly much of a vacation, Zharkov was glad to be able to see more of Sunderland himself, even if his reasons were more crooked than he'd ever say; he needed to make a 'delivery' to one of the customers that had bought into his boss's latest venture, and with the forged tax papers in his breast pocket, he would set out under the guise of a normal laborer charged with getting the goods to their destination, and nothing more. It wasn't hard to keep the shadier aspects of it from Kozel, who seemed just as content to take in the scenery and keep a lookout for others on the road.

As their luck held out, they were bothered by almost no one at all, and as the town came into view, Zharkov could not help but be distracted by the forest looming off to the north. "Almost there. Probably there by dark. We made good time today, I think." He commented, looking pleased as he tore his eyes from the distant, darkened treeline to look at his companion.

The word "vacation" was not a word often used in Kozel's vocabulary, in Common or otherwise, and although Zharkov might not have known it, he had performed quite the feat in convincing the, yes, very industrious little creature to tag along so far from his post. Kozel had put up a fight about it at first, naturally, though a rather weak one as he remembered their previous spat. Even as the two men go to know each other better over the course of Zharkov's extended stay, that particular incident had never quite left the back of Kozel's mind. All the same, he had allowed himself to strike up as much of a friendship as he knew how, growing steadily more bold in what he shared (oh, how he had gossip) and in how much he spoiled the Okrainan with his cooking (because finally, someone could appreciate him!). In the end, that may very well have been what convinced the skittish servant to join his fellow foreigner on the trip to Oldcastle: friends spent time together, right?, so maybe a change of scenery for Zharkov's sake wouldn't be completely terrible.

How embarrassing. He'd never admit as much, because why try so hard to be friend to a guest? Really, if you asked Kozel, what truly set the decision for his little vacation was just how dismissive his boss had been about it once he had mustered up the courage to ask. Kozel might have harbored some secret hope that Mr. Varick would harshly decline and tell him to get back to work, and in turn the absolutely heartbroken servant would have to relay the just devastating news to Zharkov that he'd have to take the vacation alone, but... Mr. Varick had been so lax about letting Kozel go that at first he wasn't sure his boss had heard him right. But he had, and then he told him to get out, so, stinging and betrayed, Kozel in fact got out.

Well! Let's see how Fox and Hounds did without its best and most humble servant! He expected it to be in complete shambles once he returned, in the meantime all set to enjoy himself as much as possible out in the country with his new comrade, Zharkov. Hopefully, the actual enjoying part would happen soon.

"Yes, good time, I agree," was the flat, distracted response Zharkov received as Kozel attempted to appreciate the scenery, which only had him recalling why he never left the bustle of Palisade in the first place. Oldcastle didn't seem very welcoming, with those horrid, crumbling ruins that gave the town its name towering over all else, and don't think Kozel missed the forest, either—one look at it and he felt his heart skip a beat as if in warning. Enough of that; he should be better company for the man who invited him along. Flicking his gaze to Zharkov for a moment, then back to the town, Kozel tried to sound more enthusiastic and still only managed to sound grumbling, as usual.

"Oldcastle looks... quaint. Very different from Palisade." There was no missing that wary look he cast to the forest again, but a curious note did sneak into his words. "Is this more to your tastes, Zharkov?" Actually, it was hard to imagine the Okrainan living somewhere like this, but maybe that was just because he fit right into the loud, smoky tavern scene.

Zharkov's eyes shaded at the tone of the response he received, though his grin didn't fade in the least, still too pleased by their progress to be concerned with Kozel's apprehension. The Okrainan still felt that he'd performed a miracle by prying the flighty man from his job at the inn, and with the knowledge that what they were doing was a very rare thing (Kozel would be able to go on working once he returned, right?), he planned to enjoy as much of the travel as humanly possible. "At least we are not stuck on some reeking, tossing boat." He had mumbled, looking fondly at the horse he'd been given to make their journey and delivery. Zharkov interacted as naturally with the beast as breathing, and he couldn't have been happier to leave the noisy city for a time, especially to tame his curiosity of what it looked like beyond the city gates. Well...that part hadn't been too much of a surprised. It was fairly similar to the stretch between Northport and Palisade, in the end.

"Da, it is different." Zharkov agreed, lacking any hint of the caution that Kozel seemed to have. "Mmm...maybe. Quiet is nice, but living in the city has grown on me in the past years." He admitted, urging the horse to pick up her pace a bit. It was no lie that Zharkov was an adaptive fellow, though there were times he missed the simpler life he'd had, long ago. There was a lot of solace to be found in working so closely with the earth, but he was sure he would never get the chance to do such a thing again. He did not despair; his current situation was favorable enough, and he had friends at his back. "How about you? You have always seemed like the type who would appreciate a less hectic atmosphere than the one back at the inn." The Okrainan teased, knowing how absolutely flustered Kozel could get. As their cart drew nearer and nearer to the town, though, Zharkov's gaze hardened just a bit, and he found himself hoping that the inhabitants of the town weren't too unwelcoming, as they could often be in smaller settlements.

True, true, Kozel couldn't grumble too much once being reminded how much worse things could be. Nothing could be worse than travelling by boat, anyway. As the Katchian was coming to learn, how enjoyable travel could be depended largely on one's companions, and that particular travel by sea was not one he reminisced often on, for good reason. It hadn't occurred to Kozel until now that Zharkov would have had to have gone through the same sort of trip, and he wondered if the hardier Okrainan had been just as alone and... Frightened? No, he couldn't see that at all. Anyway, being thrown into such thoughts wasn't helping Kozel's mood, but it's not like his companion much helped.

Zharkov knew him too well already, or at least knew how easily he could rile Kozel up, as his teasing had Kozel huffing and shrinking back into tensed shoulders, immediately on the defensive. "It is not so much hectic as being -kept busy-, which I prefer. Towns like these are -too- quiet, but cities..." His griping dropped off as he wondered suddenly if he had said something odd, but it was not as if the simpler man next to him were so perceptive. Anyway, the change in Zharkov's expression hadn't gone unnoticed by Kozel who, fearing it was his unpleasant tone, tried to switch gears again.

"Well, I am sure Whitecastle will show us her charms," he muttered quickly, messing up the name as well as his prediction, if only he knew.

Zharkov had indeed suffered through the same sort of trip, though he had been lucky enough to have had several traveling partners at his side. Still, he wasn't keen on discussing it; there were things about sea travel that he simply didn't like, such as the fact that he often became seasick. That was a trivial fact that no one needed to know. With the town growing closer by the minute, it was easy to dismiss such unsavory thoughts, smirking at Kozel's indignant reaction to his little tease. "Don't let the quiet get to you too much. A little change in pace might help you to relax." Zharkov simply met Kozel's unusual observation with yet another quip, and chuckled to himself.

"I think it is Oldcastle, Kozel. Learn the name or they will likely run us out of town." Zharkov scolded halfheartedly, and before either could say another word, they were entering the streets of the little town. The guards at their posts didn't even care to do more than wave them past, and Zharkov quieted as he focused on driving, dull eyes peeled for the inn his cargo was meant for. It did not take long to reach their destination, and after the cart was parked, Zharkov went inside for a few moments after asking his companion to wait. He didn't take long, and after exchanging words, papers, and a small purse full of coins (which was quickly tucked away), two men came to relieve the cart of the barrels in the back and Zharkov emerged as well to begin to unhitch their horse. "The business is all taken care of, Kozel. We'll spend a night or two here. There is no rush, I don't think, unless you think they'll miss you back in Palisade." He was chuckling under his breath as he helped to stable their horse and find a place to put the cart. He seemed eager to get it over with, and by the time they were finished the sun was low in the sky.

"A shame it is late. I would have liked to take a look around. How far off do you suppose the wood is? I have heard strange stories about it once or twice, back when I was living in Northport."

A little change in pace was more liable to ruffle Kozel's feathers, honestly, and it showed in the silent sulking he quickly returned to after Zharkov caught his mistake and corrected him—white, old, they practically meant the same thing but he did not argue it, stuck on the idea that they could be run out of Oldcastle for it. So he remained sullen, apparently giving up on being better company, casting a wary gaze about the town they entered. It wasn't the quiet ghost town he had imagined with the gutted castle reigning, still a lively and active place in its own right, but compared to bustle and mingle on Palisade's streets, he felt more of an outsider than usual.

So Kozel was hesitant, but obediently waited at the cart, perfectly oblivious to exactly what kind of business Zharkov was taking care of, just trying to get used to the idea of staying at an inn and not pacing around looking for things that needed doing (well, he might still pace around). As soon as the Okrainan returned, cheery as ever, he gave a scoff. "Oh, they will definitley be missing me. Let them! No rush at all!" Big words for how small he felt, shadowing Zharkov closely then on, the one familiarity left as he missed Palisade.

After all, Palisade had no wood looming in the distance, and when the topic came up Kozel did not disguise his disgust. "Please, do not tell me you wish to visit that," he wrinkled his nose as though offended by the idea, because he was, maybe even a little fear showing on his face, too. "Leave the stories in Northport. It is just trees." Just the idea of stories being attached to these just-trees was enough to put Kozel on edge, and he hoped his quick dismissal would prompt Zharkov not to share, please.

Zharkov looked incredibly pleased when all was said and done, with Kozel none the wiser. He'd worried about it some on the way, wondering what the uptight Katchian's reaction might be if he found out about his other jobs, and Zharkov could only assume that it wouldn't be very positive. Kozel worried too much himself anyway, too straight-edged to be dragged into the dirty business of smuggling goods into the country, as lucrative as it could be. But with the hard part out of the way, they could actually relax for once, and enjoy the scenery. Once more, his thoughts meandered off towards the wood, and even he could not place why he felt so introgued.

"Oh, come on, Kozel. Just a peek. It has been too long since I have seen a forest like this one. Up close, anyway." He added, and began to walk, meandering along the street until he found a little alleyway that lead back towards some smaller houses, and a field. The inn was relatively close to the front end of the town, and the Okrainan was sure it wouldn't be a very long walk. "You have been here so long, and have not even approached the wood? Where is your adventurous spirit? Have you heard what they say of this place? Do you know if any of it is true?" Zharkov questioned, incredulous that Kozel had been in Sunderland a good two years without even venturing out of Palisade, or so he assumed.

Wasn't it enough that Kozel should leave his stable, predictable life in Palisade for an unknown town with a man he didn't even know the first name of? He'd followed him this far, thinking they would only stay at an inn (because Kozel could deal with inns), and now Zharkov had the bizarre notion of visiting a forest, clearly asking too much. He would follow him no longer, Kozel decided, scuttling after him with an exasperated sputter. "What is there to peek at?"

He could only imagine how suspicious they looked, two outsiders skulking about, and he was about ready to point out as much with another desparate plea to turn back when Zharkov bombarded him with questions that only served to alarm him further. "What do stories matter? There is nothing there for us! Just trees!" Kozel was at his side, tone as hurried as his gestures, not yet daring to touch him but tempted, very tempted, to try dragging him back, not like the sound of adventurous spirit when suddenly a thought occurred to him: Perhaps the oaf was doing this on purpose, just to see Kozel get flustered, and he was playing right into it now, wasn't he?

Looking hurt and willing Zharkov to look at him, moving to stand in his way, he lifted his chin and tried for a serious tone he had not dared since his first blunder with the man. "There is no adventure to be had," he said not in command, but like he was catching onto a joke. "I would appreciate if we stopped this, now."

Zharkov was about to answer Kozel's question with a little grin, but no sooner had he taken a breath to do so than Kozel was placing himself in his path, which prompted the hulking Okrainan to come to a halt. His brow furrowed as he listened, noting the unhappy look on Kozel's face as he wilted slightly himself. "I did not mean anything by it. It just reminds me of home, is all. Do you not remember the great forests back in our homelands?" He smiled a little again, thinking back on it. That was exactly what the Wardwood reminded him of, anyway...just, with a lot less snow. For once, it seemed that Zharkov's words had been sincere, and that he hadn't been attempting to toy with the poor man.

"But if it really bothers you all that much, I suppose I could look tomorrow. You can stay in town, if you prefer." Zharkov heaved a wistful sigh, not bothering to hold back the rather crestfallen look on his face at Kozel's plea. "I thought you would be more open to learning about this country. It is our home now, more or less." He tacked on, sincerity replaced with a less than subtle ploy to try to get Kozel to continue along with him. It was partially true though, was it not? It would be good to familiarize themselves with Sunderland's geography.

Kozel decided, then and there, that such a disappointed look did not fit on the Okrainan's face. It rather made him look like a scolded child, and with some annoyance, he was only reminded how often he was placed in the role of parent. That's what he thought of when he was reminded of home, anyway, finally looking away and frowning at the wood Zharkov was seemingly sincerely keen on seeing. Yes, maybe he could see a little bit of the old country in it, but Kozel had never been one to venture where he wasn't needed and that wasn't about to change.

So when Zharkov actually relented, Kozel's brows lifted in surprise as he looked to him again, catching that crestfallen look and wishing he hadn't. What was this feeling, guilt for being sensible? With a mingling of concern at being left in town while this old fool wandered off, he scowled and meant to argue the compromise when his companion brought up a point he hadn't considered. It was enough to make him forget his irritation, heart sinking to consider this their home. It was a good ploy.

"Well, yes, it is always good to learn about your country..." His words were hollow, as though he was trying to convince himself, but the spark had been ignited. "It is just a forest with false stories, but it is a bit of a landmark. I suppose it would be considered odd to come all the way to Whitecastle and not at least... take a look." He murmured that last part quietly, still uncertain, but even he couldn't deny something of a strange curiosity.

Zharkov had to put in a huge effort to keep himself from grinning a sharkish, triumphant grin, as Kozel inevitably gave in to his underhanded tactics. It was almost too easy, but over the weeks he had come to know Kozel, one quirk had made itself apparent; Kozel still clung to some odd sense of patriotism, even though Sunderland was not his true home. This misplaced loyalty didn't apply solely to country, but it suited the situation and Zharkov had no qualms in taking advantage of it. What was the harm, anyway? They were merely taking a stroll into a forest that everyone in town no doubt interacted with, and there was surely no harm in that.

"Da! You wish to know the lay of the land better, do you not? If we become more knowledgable, it might make us look a bit more respectable, too." He heaped on the excuses, merely eager to give into what was turning into an unignorable urge to get to the forest. It might have been a bit unsettling, but now it had turned into a sort of game to see how far he could get Kozel to go. It certainly wasn't as if he truly expected the native population to care whether or not two foreign bums went traipsing through their little enchanted wood. If only it were so easy.

"That's the spirit Kozel! You will come with me, then?" He was offering up a hopeful grin then, an innocent mask to cover up his wilier (but harmless) baser intentions.

It was truly the tragedy of Kozel that he should be so oblivious to his own exploitable sense of duty (you'd think he'd have learned), but there he was, eating up Zharkov's pitch, nodding along and sounding more sure now. No, not just sure, but like the idea had been his own from the beginning, puffing up and even indulging in some bold teasing that was usually the Okrainan's shtick. "You could certainly use any chance to appear more respectable. I have been around longer, after all. This could be a good learning experience."

And as he looked to the wood in the distance, he felt a prickle of fear despite his words. Or, perhaps fear was the wrong word, for fear was meant to keep Kozel in check, avoiding situations just like wandering into spooky forests they had no business in, especially as the sun sunk lower in the sky — but instead, this prickle of something edged him on, perhaps more than Zharkov's words and stupid faces, making it feel like the right course of action. Normally, he'd question such a thing, but resolution settled in his mind. Mostly.

"...This will be quick, I hope."

"Exactly." Zharkov gave a snort at Kozel's tease, humoring him and taking the joke in stride. He was getting his way, afterall, and while a part of him felt bad for taking advantage, he felt it would be a nice diversion. How many years had he been confined in a city, with little chance to get away? Even being out in a more wide open space was a nice change, and the presence of the wood was a bonus. Zharkov could only imagine how impressive it would look in a couple of months, when the snow began to fall.

"Of course. It is not as if I want to spend the night." Zharkov joked, and began lead the way once more. He knew it would probably be best to keep his mouth shut, but he couldn't resist trying to make conversation on it again. "How much of this country's history do you know of, anyway, Kozel?" He glanced to his friend, burying his hands in the pockets of the thick wool coat he'd brought for their journey. Topics of their everyday lives and (more seldomly) their homelands often dominated their conversations, but now Zharkov was eager to see exactly which of these stories Kozel was aware of. It would be prudent not to blurt them out, he decided, not wanting to risk scaring Kozel back out of their little field trip.

What a relief that the eager Okrainan wasn't going to try to push a spooky forest funtime sleepover after getting Kozel to tag along in the first place. He simply made a face at that joke, but obediently followed Zharkov's lead, hoping their definitions of quick were close enough. How long had it been since he had ventured in the wilderness? Unable to place it, at the very least he hoped it didn't show through too obviously with how disdainfully he picked through the field. Conversation was a good distraction from thinking about, ugh, how dirty the outside was.

...On second thought, Kozel wasn't sure this was a conversation he wanted to have. He glanced at his companion self-consciously, unwilling to admit how ignorant he was on the history of the country. What he had learned, he'd rather forget, or didn't completely understand, but he had to wonder what Zharkov would make of it. "The people of Sunderland seem somewhat convinced in..." He paused, trying to remember the word, then "...spirits? Their history seems more to be made up of fairy tales."

Fairy tales, yes, which is why he tried to tell himself it was silly to believe in what he'd overheard. Only the backwards people of a town like Oldcastle would really believe in things like spirits, but he tried not to think about the talk of wolves...

"It is not so unusual, I think. I know many who prescribed to such beliefs, back home." Zharkov countered, his boots crunching over the dry fall grass, enjoying every moment of their little outing. He seemed more at ease than ever, then, as a cool breeze blew through and rustled through the leaves of the trees before them. "It is like that for most religious followings, though, when you think about it." He added on in a low, conspiratory voice, his eyes shining with the scandal of his words. He was curious to see Kozel's reaction, if any, and hardly paused when they seemed to reach the end of the grassy expanse they'd been moving across.

The trees loomed up and around them, once they'd crossed the field. Zharkov reached a hand out to touch one of them, picking his way through the brush that littered the forest floor. "I doubt there is anything of harm here, to close to town. Animals would never venture so close." He observed, before burying his hand in his pocket again before trudging onward. "Which means we have nothing to worry about!" His words were reassuring, as if making a good excuse for continuing their trek. His dull green eyes darted about as he took in their surroundings, ever drawn by odd curiosity.

Shrugging further into his jacket more to hide than for warmth, Kozel wondered suddenly if he had said the wrong thing, not having considered that Zharkov himself might be one who prescribed to "fairy tales," but, well, the man's next comment quickly buried that fear. Startled by the radical idea, coming from the Okrainan he always figured simple rather than a skeptical thinker, Kozel's eyes went round, then shifted around, as though looking for anyone who might have overheard. "That is... that is different, I think," he uttered a token argument quickly, already another topic he wasn't keen on pursuing.

How nice that Zharkov was pleased. Kozel only stood and peered about nervously, as rigid as the trees surrounding them, trees he had no interest in touching because he had seen them before, and felt them before, and despite agreeing that it was good to learn more about the country, so far he wasn't seeing anything too different from this forest that set it apart from any other forest with trees and rocks and dirt and...

Animals. Beasts, really, just lurking for an opportunity to get the jump on them, and Zharkov's reassurance only served to make him indignant as he started again, nearly stumbling over a tree root as he scuttled after. "Perhaps they would not venture close, so why venture farther in?" Not one who would understand the purpose of a nature hike, he added, "What else is there to see?" But, unlike a hiking trail, there was no real path to guide them, and his thoughts immediately flew to their getting lost as he stepped over more perilous roots, eyeing the occasional mushroom and moss he did not recognize. No, he saw no point in this, and still he walked right along.

Zharkov found the talk of spirits vaguely fascinating, and was almost inclined to believe some of the tales, with how fervently they were discussed amongst the locals. Still, jaded by city life and past experiences, his skeptical side made it difficult. The Old Ways were very similar to some of the superstitions held by the people in his old country, though they had never really been given a collective title. It was only a wide array of stories and practices, and it all varied wildly from community to community. He could only give a short laugh at Kozel's comment, and let the subject drop altogether.

What he was much more interested in was, of course, Kozel's biggest fear. "We are not even close to being that far in yet." He argued, smirking at the sight of a little group of birds singing overhead. "Don't be silly, Kozel. There is plenty to see here! Some of these trees look so old, too. Maybe we will see a raccoon or a squirrel." He suggested, some nice, safe, small animals. With dusk approaching, he wouldn't be surprised to see the former, or maybe even a fox or skunk. "At least we are not in old country. These people think the wolves are bad, they have not dealt with wolverines." Zharkov said in an almost-joking sort of way, though there was an underlying sense of truth to it.

Zharkov's pace was careful and measured, and he did not trip as Kozel did, picking his way around lowlying bushes and trying his best not to disturb their surroundings too horribly. He enjoyed the sound of the crunch beneath his boots, and scanned the area repeatedly, watching for any signs of movement. He almost wished that they could go hunting, and the thought of prepositioning such a thing to Kozel nearly made him laugh out loud. "Of course, neither live here, most likely. Everyone says the wolves are long gone." And there, he'd finally said it.

With yet another rebuttal from Zharkov, the warier of the two fell into a silence that all but declared his reluctant surrender. It wasn't quite a sulk, at least, as he allowed himself to continue listening to the Okrainan prattle on, glancing up at the birds with some interest (though he dared not show it, moving right along on the tour), and he even could have smiled at the mention of their shared country. In a way, he was reminded of their talks back at the inn; though there was no tea to be had here, Zharkov's enthusiam warmed him all the same.

But then, Zharkov had to go and finally say it, and Kozel almost stumbled again despite the surer step he had learned watching him. Visibly paling, not that he wasn't already rather wan in countenance, he turned a fearful gaze to his misguided companion and spoke low. "I have heard otherwise. There is a forest full of them, in fact—" and did he really need to say more about that? Finally stopping, holding himself and trying to suppress a shudder, he raised his voice to something, hopefully, more sure. "I think we should head back now."

"Oh come now. That forest is not this forest, Kozel..." Zharkov heaved an exaggerated sigh, though he was grinning to himself, facing away from his friend so he couldn't see. "Because if it were, I am sure they would have found us already." He teased, lifting his feet to step over a bush. "I have not heard anything like that, myself. Only that there was a war a long, long time ago, and that they are all gone now." He informed in a matter-of-fact way. Even that notion seemed like rubbish, but it also sounded like a good story all the same, so the Okrainan didn't dismiss it completely.

At Kozel's declaration, he scoffed, and turned to look back at him as they walked. "There is nothing to fear in this place, Kozel...just a bit further. There is still light, and---" Zharkov's words were cut off suddenly as he stumbled, just about disappearing from view as he slipped down a leafy decline in the forest floor. "GUH!" He yelped, clipping several bushes and catching himself halfway down the slopped expanse. After cursing a few times, he called out. "I am alright!"

As if wolves weren't chilling enough, the mention of war set Kozel further on edge, his muscles tensing as though ready for fight or flight—and hadn't it always been flight for him? Not in this case, as the servant did not move just yet, only glowering at Zharkov's dimissive and carefree manner; he had assumed the Okrainan a brute and found him a brat instead. Despite Kozel's fears of getting on his bad side again, he was prepared to argue his position, both literal and otherwise, adamantly rooted to the spot even as the irrational urge to keep going goaded him on, a strange undercurrent of almost-urgency that only served to heighten his unease.

He snapped, "You cannot possibly know—" and didn't even get to finish, jaws clapping shut as he jolted back in alarm, blue eyes going wide to catch the scene he did not at first understand, Zharkov seemingly disappearing and making a sound he'd never expect to hear from the man, then scrabbling after as realization came to him. "Zharkov! Zharkov are, are you..." He stopped where the other man had slipped and peered down the slope, anger replaced with concern, though even he could not resist a worried I-told-you-so. "You see! This place is treacherous."

"Oh, hush your mouth!" He retorted at being called out. He flailed around for a moment, leaves russtling noisily, before righting himself. There was still a good amount of the slope left, and it got even steeper before leveling out again. Luckily his fall had been stopped by a small clump of bushes. He held his arms out for balance and peered up uncertainly, unsure if he would be able to make the climb back up. "I was just not looking where I was going. It was stupid of me, I will admit. Not the forest's fault, though." The little grin on his face was almost audible.

"I think perhaps I cannot get back up though, the leaves make it slippery. I will have to go down, and around, perhaps..." He said it loud enough so Kozel could hear, mostly thinking aloud to himself. He'd gotten himself into a predicament, hadn't he? He began to try to step upwards, easing himself up slowly. His appearance was quite ridiculous then, with leaves and plant matter clinging to his rumpled clothes. He only got a few steps before he lost his footing again and went sliding back down. "Dammit."

"That sounds like an excellent idea. Drinks on me when we get back, too." He smirked, moving to the edge of the ring of light in search of more wood. "We can mix them together. That should be interesting." Zharkov snorted as he shuffled about, a few good-sized sticks and branches in the crook of his arm already.

"It is alright Kozel, I think I have all we'll need." Zharkov set the extra fuel with the rest before taking his seat again, and sighing as he got comfortable. "I am going to tend the fire for tonight, Kozel, and keep watch. If you can get comfortable, you should rest a while." The Okrainan looked quite sleepy himself, and merely prayed he would be able to keep his eyes open. He was sure if anything caught Kozel's attention that he would know quickly, at least.

For once, Kozel was inclined to agree with one of Zharkov's ideas, considering the possibilities of mixing tea and spirits with a thoughtful hum. It was a good excuse to try more teas, anyway, but it seemed so far away as he watched the other man gathering fuel.

"You have done enough already," Kozel chided, too out of his element to even think about sleep, whereas his companion, poor old man that he was, cearly needed it. "I would be a far better lookout. You are too lax about this." Sounding more unsure than his words would suggest, he only moved to sit against a tree like it was a shelter, crossing his arms and looking about with a wary eye."There should not be too much to watch for, anyway."

Zharkov wondered what Kozel could possibly have thought of him expecting them to sleep out in the woods, but really, he had slept in far worse conditions. The forest seemed quiet, peaceful even, and though the air hummed softly with nocturnal life, he had heard no howls or growling, nothing to indicate that they were in any danger at all. "It is just lucky that I had matches. Would have been much harder if I hadn't." He said with a tired smile, and lifted one hand to cover a yawn. Perhaps it wouldn't be a bad idea to accept the offer.

"If you are certain, Kozel. We will take turns, so when you become tired, just wake me up." He moved to shift some of the thicker branches to where the Katchian could reach. "If the fire gets too small, just add some wood, but be careful not to smother it." He advised tiredly, before leaning back against the tree and crossing his arms, tucking his hands under for warmth. He was surprised to feel how heavy his eyes were, how easy it was to let them shut as he rested his head back against the rough bark. "Thank you, Kozel."

"That sounds like a fair arrangement," said Kozel, nodding, not at all intending to wake his companion if he could help it. "It is no problem at all." He was pleased by the gratitude, even if he wasn't entirely confident in himself—what if he did smother the fire—but he tried to make no outward show of it, coolly watching the fire for even the slightest variation in size, keeping his ears trained for even the softest sound amiss. He had played sentinel before; it was nothing.

But he found himself pacing restlessly all the same, once stolen glances over to Zharkov confirmed he was asleep, a long shadow marching across the trunks of the trees surrounding them. He had not heard anything in however long he'd been up, long enough at least that the fire had needed stoking (with no smothering on his part; success), but to Kozel, the night seemed eternal, and he almost found himself wondering why they had stopped at all.

Well. Another look at the Okrainan reminded him why, but the familiar glum, born from the indignity of being overlooked, set in. If he was tired, it was not tired enough to sleep, but only the fatigue that came with such prolonged anxiety. So it was a bit surprising that he should have finally drifted off himself, when he had only meant to rest for a moment, honest.

Despite the fact that he had 'resolved' to keep watch and tend the fire, Zharkov's weariness had got the better of him and he'd drifted off minutes after Kozel had agreed to keep watch, evidenced by the occasional soft snore. Not even Kozel's pacing disturbed him, and he would remain slumped against the tree for the remainder of the night. Imagine his surprise, then, when he opeened his eyes to the soft light of morning breaking through the treetops, rather than the warm glow of their fire, which was still smoking quietly. It gave the Okrainan a bit of a start, but a quick glance around revealed that Kozel was still present, safe but asleep. Had he tried to stay up all night? It was Zharkov's assumption, as he stood to stretch himself, working out the soreness brought on by sleeping upright.

As he moved, he looked about. There was their mark on the tree, yes. It would be a simple job to get back now, but...his attention was drawn the opposite direction, deeper into the woods. With Kozel asleep, it would be a simple thing to go just a bit further. He unsheathed his knife, and began to walk, planning to mark the trees as he went. With his mind still hazy from sleep, he couldn't help but to heed that familiar urge. He'd marked about three trees along his path, when he stumbled out into a clearing, and a chill went down his spine.

Could it be that he was dreaming? He blinked hard, and wiped blearily at his eyes. In the middle of the clearing stood the strangest sight he had ever seen in all his years. A bizarre tree, much larger than the rest, though its size was certainly not its defining feature. Zharkov's eyes were drawn more towards the glow emanating from the trunk, seeming to swell and ebb, and he staggered back at once, almost dropping his knife. He wanted to turn, to leave, but it seemed that he could hardly tear his eyes from the towering giant.

For the first time in a long time, Kozel woke up disoriented. He woke with the knowledge that he had dreamed, though all he could remember was a soft rain, and his dreams had never dealt with such poetic imagery before. But he would take it over the usual resurfacing memories, blinking blearily and trying to make sense of where he was, if it wasn't the inn and it wasn't raining and—"Zharkov!"

He jolted upright immediately, comprehension flooding back at the sight of their empty little camp. It was morning, yes, much less dangerous but there was a note of panic in his voice anyway as he called out again, scrambling to his feet as his mind whirled with guesses at where his friend could have gone, some of them reasonable and most of them not. Heedless of the stiffness that had settled in him after an uncomfortable night spent on the forest floor, he paced the clearing again, though with a more frantic fervor than before, alternating between cursing himself for falling asleep and cursing Zharkov for wherever he had gone, whatever had happened to him, searching for any sign of explanation and finding none, until he turned tail and plunged deeper into the forest, though whether it was to find his friend himself or finally leave this wretched wood behind even he wasn't sure.

As it was, Kozel did find a sign in a mark on a tree. Remembering how the Okrainan had done the very same last night, he followed, less worried but more insulted, until he caught sight of the man himself, heart skipping a beat first as he was startled, then pounding like his steps as he rushed over. "Zharkov, you idiot!" He hissed, relief washing over him as he grabbed his arm in a harsh, shaky grip. "Why did you—" But the accusations in mind died along with the words in his throat as he, too, caught sight of unnatural growth looming before them.

Zharkov did not hear the first exclamation of his name back at the camp, as Kozel woke, far too engrossed with what he had stumbled upon. It didn't really seem like an accident though. The sight of the tree brought strange relief, and before he'd heard the footsteps moving behind him he'd begun to step into the clearing again, eyes glued on the mystical sight. He startled as Kozel grabbed him from behind, finally managing to tear his eyes away to look at his friend instead.

"Are you alright?" He asked, letting out a shaky sigh. "I am sorry for frightening you. Didn't think you would wake up so soon." He looked back to the tree as if he were fixated on it. The Okrainan started to move again, despite Kozel's hold on him, drawn in by the magnificent sight and wishing for a closer look. "Have you ever seen a thing like this before?" He asked in a hushed voice, squinting for a moment at the strange objects that seemed to cover the branches of the massive plant.

It took a moment for Kozel to realize Zharkov had answered, and another moment to find his voice, as he had also become engrossed in trying to understand exactly what they had just stumbled upon. "I am fine," he answered weakly, though he wasn't really thinking of himself. At odds with what he had been griping about the whole trip in, he felt suddenly right to be here, despite the voice in the back of his mind—really more like a shout desperate to be heard—telling him this could not be real. He kept his hold on the other man but did not, as he might have done had he kept his senses, try to restrain him, in fact keeping in step with him.

"Of course I have never seen a thing like this before." Kozel, sounding a bit more like himself, tracing the eerily vivid runes on the trunk with wondering eyes. Abruptly, he pulled away from Zharkov, though he could not bring himself to retreat from the tree completely. "Because such a thing should not exist. Zharkov, I think we have seen enough," he pled even as his own gaze was drawn upwards to the sprawl of branches thick with a most nonsensical harvest.

As Kozel pulled away and came to a halt, Zharkov strode forth slowly, only stopping once he had reached the tree. Of course, he could not resist the urge to touch it, laying his hand on a section of glowing bark in an almost reverent fashion. He craned his neck to peer up into the branches, and his brow furrowed at what he saw. Some of the branches hung very low, but the one thing they all had in common was that they were absolutely laden with funny little figures. He could not even begin to guess what it all meant, or how they had come to cover the tree.

"Speak for yourself." Zharkov retorted in a rather snarky tone, as he hoisted himself up to get a closer look. "What are these things. They are some sort of little animal." He murmured, and reached out to touch one of them. Before he could grab onto it though, his hand recoiled, and he glanced around, realizing that it didn't feel quite right. There were so many of them, too, and no two had the same colors. He looked around again before starting to climb higher, feeling as if he were on a hunt for something specific.

Kozel's eyes snapped back down to shoot Zharkov a nasty glare for that backtalk, though the man was turned away and hardly paying attention, too enthralled with the tree and who could blame him? Easing a bit, and perhaps encouraged by the Okrainan touching the bark with no apparent ill-effect, he approached the immense tree also, curious in spite of his reservations.

"Be careful," he said anxiously, not even bothering to argue with Zharkov's latest stunt. If the man wanted to do something, he'd do it, it seemed to Kozel. Cautiously, he placed his own palm on the glowing trunk of the tree, as though needing to touch it himself to confirm it really was there. With Zharkov going up, he was going around, hand steadied on the tree as he circled it, stepping slowly over roots as he tried to puzzle for himself what the objects on the branches could possibly be.

"...A kind of fruit, perhaps?" He guessed lamely, because trees were only ever meant to have leaves, and fruit, and bird nests, he supposed. Stepping onto a root (and, for a fleeting moment, hoping it wasn't disrespectful to trample it before dismissing such a silly thought), he reached for one of the lower branches, if only for a closer look...

"Da, do not worry." Zharkov had not meant it in a nasty way, but he certainly had not wanted to simply turn and leave. What they had found was too amazing to forego exploration, and explore he did, unaware of Kozel's glaring as he ascended carefully. He was a good six feet up from the first major branch before he laid eyes on one of the little figures and felt a strange resonance with it. Without hesitation he reached forward to pick it up, turning it over and over in his hands and stopping to rest against the trunk. The figure was dark, with vibrant blue swirls, and orange on its feet that made him think of fire.

At Kozel's suggestion, he belted out a laugh, with the belief that the Katchian was joking. "Fruit! They are not even connected to the tree. They may as well be, though." He commented, before stopping to take a good look around. He wasn't high enough to see over the tree line, and though it was tempting, he wasn't going to attempt to go any higher for risk of a fall. Now that would be bad.

With the burst of laughter from somewhere above, Kozel turned a vibrant red, burning with the humiliation of having his suggestion laughed at and hastily fumbling for a save. "N-no, I did not mean fruit, I meant—damn this language, I meant something else." He saw well enough for himself how wrong he was, and dropped off the root he was using as a boost, bringing a hand up to his face, willing the color to go down and glad, at least, that Zharkov could not see him.

"Get down before you hurt yourself, you fool." Indignation rang clear in Kozel's voice as he looked up, trying to find where the other man had ended up. If the clumsy Okrainan fell, he was not sure he would be able to catch him, and more importantly, he was not sure he'd want to. After a moment, he tried again. "Clearly, they are dogs. I have heard of dogwood."

"What? It was funny!" Zharkov called down, still smiling as he continued to look over the little object in his hands. He figured they were carvings or sculptures of some sort, and idley wondered how there had come to be so many in a single strange tree. He was still a bit too hazy from their restless night to look into it too much, and suddenly yawned, wearily tracing the sworls with one finger.

"Dogs...yes, I can see it. Little toy dogs." The shape was vague, but hey, they had four legs and little tails, right? He snorted and rolled his eyes as Kozel scolded, and did not move right away, taking his sweet time. "Do not worry yourself so much Kozel. The view is good from up here." He smirked, suddenly tempted to play another joke, but then thought better of it, remembering that he had given Kozel more than enough excitement as it was. No, he would save it for another time, humming a sigh as he jammed the figurine into his jacket pocket and turning to begin his gradual descent.

Glad, at least, that his latest suggestion hadn't struck Zharkov as funny, Kozel looked over to where they had come from, observing the forest anew, as though the mundane trees around might also start dropping dogs, or cats, or who knew what else. But no, they were the same just-trees he had criticized. Impatient, he looked up again, adam's apple bobbing in a hard swallow as he tried not to consider what the view was like. "I am not worried," he lied, "but I would appreciate it if you would hurry up."

It would be easier to discuss what they had found without him having to yell up at Zharkov, anyway. Kozel couldn't help but want to speculate, though already, paranoia was taking hold. Rather abruptly, shoving his hands into his coat pockets, he added, "I hope you did not take one of the dogs for yourself." Their investigation could do just fine without need for evidence, surely.

"I am coming." Zharkov replied, resisting the urge to make comments about the Katchian's patience. Kozel had been plenty patient with him so far, he supposed, and figured it would be best not to give him any more lip if it could be helped. His climb was slow, slower than it had been going up, but he only did so with the interest of avoiding injury. He finally got the rest of the way down, and snorted softly in response to Kozel's comment, displaying the prize he had retrieved from higher up.

"There are so many, no one will miss just one. Look at the colors on it." He marveled at the toy again, holding it on the flat of his palm. It would be a nice little souvenir of their trip, a funny little bauble from a long forgotten place in the middle of a foreign forest. There was still that strange, puzzling sort of connection he felt with it, but he pushed that to the back of his mind, blaming it on tiredness and sleeping in a strange position.

Kozel could have sighed in relief once Zharkov made it down safely, but instead, he hissed a sharp intake of breath at the sight of the toy dog in his hand. "Zharkov! You cannot just steal it because there are so many others!" He would have snatched it from him, but only stepped back, eyes flicking back and forth from the branches covered to the pilfered pup. "Put it back at once. We will not be leaving the forest as thieves."

He was emphatic enough about it, but his eyes were imploring Zharkov, for once, not to argue. The spell had been broken, if he wanted to be so whimsical about it—no longer so taken by the oddity of the tree, he was repelled by how out of place it was, feeling it safer to discuss away from its puzzling existence, say, maybe even over drinks, remember?

"What! How is it stealing? It is not as if someone owns the tree. I do not see anyone around." He argued immediately, quickly closing his hand around his prize and drawing it closer to his body, afraid that Kozel would attempt to take it away. "No one will care. If they did, someone would be guarding it." He rationalized further, suddenly irate over the the thought of leaving the little toy behind. He couldn't explain it for the life of him, but it was his, and he was leaving with it.

"We should get going, anyway. It will be easy to get back now that there is light." He said, trying to chane the subject as he took a few steps towards his friend.

There it was. The argument he had known would come. Though Kozel knew very well he was outmatched, he hoped the gesture of it enough would get through to Zharkov, moving to stand in front of him and clapping a hand on his shoulder as though he meant to firmly turn him around and point to him where to return the stupid thing, as though he were a child that needed scolding and guidance. Kozel was being uncharacteristically bold, he knew; the result of suddenly-apparent exhaustion hitting him despite the quickly rising tempo of his heart, coming to the worst possible conclusion as he considered Zharkov's argument.

"This tree could be owned if the land it is on is owned, and—" his mouth suddenly dry with fear, he levelled a grave look at the larger man, "—and it could very well be royalty we—you are stealing from, Zharkov."

Zharkov looked bewhildered for a moment as Kozel reached out to grab his shoulder, eyes darting from his face, to the hand, and then back again. With his brow furrowing, his listened to Kozel's argument, only to roll his eyes and firmly pocket the wooden dog.

"Oooh da, that would just be the most horrible thing, wouldn't it? I am sure the queen will miss her little toy dog. Next I will sneak into the castle and steal her doilies. Is that what you are afraid of!?" Zharkov sneered obnoxiously, overwhelmingly agitated over Kozel's attempts to get him to ditch what he had allegedly 'stolen'. So much for not giving him any more lip.

Perhaps it was rage returned from last night's minor meltdown, or maybe a panicked, desperate bid to get Zharkov to cease speaking—he could hardly think of it—treason against the Queen. Really, what it most came down to: Kozel's frayed nerves could take no more of the Okrainan's constant deviance, and he finally snapped. The hand at Zharkov's shoulder clenched tight enough to turn his knuckles bone-white, his other hand balling up into a fist and reeling back before Kozel could even realize it for himself. If Zharkov insisted on giving him lip, he would just have to split it, apparently, the sudden impact of his fist crashing against teeth jarring up his arm as he screamed something, he wasn't really sure what, but he was panting for breath once he disconnected.

Kozel realized his mistake immediately. Without even a pause to see if Zharkov might be a little more open to reconsidering the theft, he turned and ran.

Zharkov was about to tack on a few more choice words, and didn't even notice what he'd set in motion until it was too late. As the Katchian's fist collided with his face, it caused a burst of pain that garnered a loud yell, as he staggered back a few steps, a bit of blood dripping down his chin. The little b*****d had busted his lip! With a snarl, he shook himself, angry and dizzy all at once, and stumbled after his so-called companion in an attempt to catch him.

"GET BACK HERE! What in the hell is wrong with you!!" He called out as Kozel fled, panting raggedly as he stomped past the marked trees. After a moment, his eyes narrowed, and he stopped suddenly to lean against a tree. "AHH! My leg! Dammit all..." He called out in mock-pain, growling to himself to enhance the effect. He could not see where Kozel had fled to, and was interested to see if he was gullible enough to fall for his ploy.

Kozel was left wondering the very same thing; there had to have been something very wrong with him to think he could have possibly changed the miscreant's course, and now he had earned his wrath by trying to stop him. He'd finally made an enemy of the Okrainan, and worse, having so foolishly plunged into the forest he knew nothing about, stumbling and nearly crashing in his retreat, he had assured his own wandering demise if he wasn't killed first.

Ducking behind a particularly large, but fortunately dog-less tree, Kozel stopped to catch his breath, trying and failing to keep his breathless gasps, nearly sobs, as quiet as possible as he listened to Zharkov's pursuit. The shouting, yes, he had earned—he glanced down at his throbbing hand, bruising already and bloodied also and shoved it into his coat with a pitiful whine—but he had not expected to hear the other man sounding, suddenly, pitiful too.

Of course, Kozel should have remembered Zharkov's old injury. He was usually too conscious of it, even if he didn't always try to reign him back from over-exertion, and he'd likely never get the chance. For the moment, his terror was buried under a mountain of guilt, guilt and shame for running from an old man with an injured leg, bad enough he had attacked him in the first place.

Trembling with adrenaline and terror both, Kozel pushed himself from his hiding place and slowly followed where he had heard the struggling wretch, finally revealing himself, or at least his head poked out from behind the shield of another trunk, at a safe distance away. "Zharkov," he said softly, concern lining his face as he struggled to think of what to say, what to do. "I-I am sorry, Zharkov, are you alright?"

He wasn't, that much was obvious by the blood on his face, but Kozel was too afraid to come any nearer and wasn't even sure if Zharkov wanted him to. But, it seemed wrong to leave him in such a state, and so he watched anxiously.

With his own adrenaline pumping, Zharkov stood huddled against the tree, breathing heavily, one hand clutching his false injury as he waited. He was ready to call out again, thinking perhaps that Kozel had not heard, when the telltale rustle of footsteps eached his ears. And there he finally was, peering over at him like a frightened child, from behind a nearby tree. Zharkov tried to play up the lie, banishing the anger from his face and knitting his brows in a look pain instead.

"Aah, Kozel, I do not know. I need help. Please, I am sorry." He whimpered afterwards, hoping the act would be convincing enough, Unbeknownst to Kozel his rage still boiled beneath the surface, and he yearned to teach the youger b*****d a lesson for suckerpunching him. His lip had already begun to swell, and there was still blood, too, but Zharkov paid it no mind. He could hardly believe that Kozel had had the balls to do such a thing, but as he stood there panting, he remembered exactly what he'd said and realized that it hadn't exactly been unprovoked.

There was a brief moment of hesitation from Kozel as he considered striking a bargain first: that he'd only come near and help if Zharkov promised not to beat him senseless, as he was sure he had earned, but the man seemed so vulnerable in a way he never could have imagined him looking, and he even said sorry, so... Stepping out, Kozel began to stride carefully over, no sudden movements, hands where he could see them open in a peaceful gesture. Much like approaching a wounded animal, really.

"There is no need to—" he was going to say 'apologize' there, but really, Zharkov had a lot to apologize for, so he changed gears, "—worry, Zharkov, I am here." And he was indeed, close enough now to offer his hand in truce. Privately, Kozel hoped now the Okrainan would be more open to listening to him, both in his explanation for what he had done wrong (aka a lecture), and in general guidance. They were, after all, even. Right?

Zharkov couldn't blame him for hesitating, but his patience finally paid off as Kozel relented and began to come closer. He kept up the illusion the entire time, as tempted as he was to jump the gun, and only moved as Kozel extended a hand to him. Without saying a word, he reached out to take the man's hand...and quickly yanked Kozel closer. With a snarl, he used the momentum to spin them around and shove Kozel up against the tree he had been leaning against, pinning the poor Katchian by his shoulders.

"I'm not so much worried as I am curious, Kozel, as to why you would strike me like you did." He growled, gripping the man's upper arms tightly and keeping close so that he wouldn't kick or struggle. He had no intentions of physically harming Kozel, but he certainly wanted to shake him up a bit, cross over being struck in such a way. Did Kozel really care that much about something so inane? He glowered down at the Katchian, waiting for a response.

Zharkov would indeed be left waiting a moment, as Kozel fought for posession of his voice, left stunned and stammering by the sudden reversal. He'd been tricked, his kindness taken advantage of by that cowardly cur, and he'd be enraged if he weren't so terrified. The Katchian shook in his attacker's grasp, watery eyes wide and pleading. "I-I-I—Zharkov I am sorry, I only—It was—"

He wanted to say everything at once while having nothing good to say, most of his struggling words lost as he began to hyperventilate, chest rising and falling as rapidly as all rational thought fled, leaving him only with that familiar animal instinct for survival. Only, how unfortuante! There was no fight in him now. "Please don't kill me!" Kozel pled desperately between gasps, sure he had finally gone too far tangling with ruthless Okrainans.

If there was any one thing that amused Zharkov most about Kozel, it was how amazingly flustered he became when he felt threatened. He could feel the anger slowly drain from his system, replaced by grim satisfaction as he watched the Katchian stammer his way through several attempts at excuses for his behavior. He felt it would be good revenge to make the man squirm, just a bit, knowing that returning Kozel's violence had the liability of destroying their friendship completely. No, he didn't want to hurt, Kozel...

He was about to ask another question when Kozel made his plea, and that was when he lost it. He barked a laugh, and shook him roughly, and offering a strained smirk. "Kozel, I would never hurt you." He squeezed his arms, the smirk melting back into a bit of a sneer, the look of which wasn't improved at all by his swollen lip. "But, do not do that sort of thing unless it is absolutely necessary. Idiot."

It took a moment for Kozel to realize what Zharkov said. He didn't completely understand why the man was laughing, but he wasn't being pummeled, so he would take it, blinking dumbly as his mind caught up with the meaning of the words. Unable to speak just yet, still fighting to get his breathing under control, he went with nodding vigorously, not really wanting to look at what he had done to Zharkov's face but unable to look away. He was still restrained, after all, and with panic giving way he could feel just how dangerous the larger man's grip was.

"D-Da. Of course. I am sorry, Zharkov." he managed to say, breath still hitching but at least more coherent. Kozel hardly even registered that he'd been called idiot, what would have been a massive offense any other time, more bewildered by the idea that he was the one being scolded.

"I am sorry too." He murmured quietly, and finally loosed his grip on Kozel's shoulders, half afraid he would attempt to run again. He patted him on the shoulder before taking a step back, noting that he had pinned Kozel right up against one of the trees he had marked.

"We should head back. I am starved." Zharkov rather wanted to skip over the entire business about stealing. He was almost certain that Kozel had an earful for him, but he wasn't interested in taking it at the moment, far too sore and cold and hungry for a lecture. "We need to stop and make sure the fire is completely out, as well." He added on, and turned to head that way, glancing back to make sure Kozel would follow.

Interesting, how simply the mind of a criminal worked. For a brief flash, an appalled look crossed Kozel's face—but he dropped it, feeling for himself how poorly their time in the forest had been spent. He brought his hands up to where Zharkov had gripped him so tightly, holding himself and slumping as he looked down, properly ashamed. "Lead the way," still something of a tremor in his voice, but admission enough.

So Kozel followed, a bit confused about where they stood with each other, but it wasn't as though he'd known before, either. He just followed because he had no one else to follow.

Feeling a pang of guilt himself, Zharkov quickly looked away from his companion, and turned to do exactly as Kozel told him, for once. The way back to their makeshift camp didn't take long at all, and Zharkov thoroughly extinguished the firepit with a good amount of dirt. The marking on the first tree he had cut pointed the way, and he gestured for Kozel to follow, simply praying that they hadn't wandered in any circles in their journey from the slope. It took longer than he'd thought, too, but he was relieved when it finally came into view, able to see the evidence of their scuffling about.

It took a couple of sturdy branches and a bit of coordinated teamwork, but they made it after a while, and Zharkov was panting softly as they finally climbed back to the top. "Not long now." He'd muttered to his friend before taking the lead again, pace fast despite how weary he still was.

Not long indeed. It didn't long at all to reach the forests edge, and the Okrainan nearly broke into a run afterwards. The innkeeper gave them both odd looks as they entered the building, but forked over the key to their room once Zharkov had paid for it, as well as the stable for their horse. Finally settled in, it was Zharkov who would pour the tea he had ordered as they rested in their room, pushing toward his friend before serving himself.

"I truly am sorry for dragging you through that, Kozel, but...thank you. For putting up with me." He offered, sitting down to sip the hot drink, which tasted wonderful after their chilly night.

Uncharacteristically quiet for the course of their journey back, probably for the better, Kozel took the opportunity to mentally grapple with the situation. He'd had more to be guilty for than just attacking Zharkov, but even then, a part of him felt he should have done more. He should have gone through with the scolding the thief soundly deserved, at least. But no, no, he trudged along with not quite amity, not quite emnity, taking last looks of the forest they had gone through because, he vowed silently to himself, he would never set foot in this troublesome, corrupting wood again. He would definitely fight Zharkov about that.

Though Kozel had not quite cheered up by the time they had made it to the inn, his manner was not so distant — though still rather changed, as he sank down in the chair and drank deeply of the tea with a grateful sigh, a far cry from his usual rigid perch and pickiness. He was too tired to be surprised by Zharkov's apology, even, but there was a touch of suspicion as he regarded the Okrainan... who had turned out to be a fine actor.

He was sorely tempted to reject the apology, or throw it back in Zharkov's face that if he had just listened to the Katchian's sensibility in the first place, he wouldn't have ended up with that busted lip, a point he would not let go. And yet: "It was not so bad," he found himself saying, and he wondered if he was just putting on a brave face. Still, he continued. "It almost feels... It almost feels as though..." Here, Kozel had to pause to give it some thought. He wasn't quite sure how to put it, almost frustrated by the feeling, and it wasn't just a limitation of the language. He tried thinking in Katchian and Okrainan still could not find how to explain.

"...As though it was right to go," he finished, and hated himself immediately for saying it, quickly adding on, "But do not think that means I condone your stealing. It was right to go, but nothing went right." He looked away, agitated all over again despite wanting to forget and enjoy civilization at last. "...So I am sorry for contributing to that disaster."

"Da." Zharkov looked pleasantly surprised, almost amazed, at what Kozel had to say about their fateful little expedition. Had the forest given Kozel that strange feeling he'd had, too? He could see that it troubled his friend, and so decided not to try to articulate it any further, only giving a quiet not in agreement. It had felt right to go, but then, he disagreed about the tree, and the little toy he had taken.

"Kozel, please...it is not stealing! It is more like...how do they say it. Finders keepers." He grinned stupidly to say something so childish, and knew Kozel would probably think of it that way himself. "Did you not see how very many there were? There were no signs, no one guarding it. It will not be missed." He tried to reason with him, though deep down, he felt it was a bit of a lost cause.

"Ugh!" That was Kozel's immediate reponse to the logic of finders, keepers, and he was provoked to sit up, tensed and leaning forward, launching immediately into an argument that seemed so unnecessary when it seemed so obvious to himself. "Of couse I saw how very many there were—probably because no one else would dare steal." That was assuming anyone else had found the tree before, a bit of a frightening thought in itself, but he went on with his points, only growing more heated and abruptly switching to Okrainan to better debate it.

"It should not take signs or guards to deter theft. It should take common decency. Have you no morals at all?" Ah, an old favorite point of discussion back home; Kozel was getting off-track now, sounding like his old self, the old self Zharkov never got to know. "Measures such as signs or guards would point to a failing in the subjects to adhere to what should be an inherent respect—failings you have illustrated in your conduct—"

He stopped himself, realizing he was monopolizing the discussion, and impatiently tapped the table, ripples disturbing the surface of their drinks as he tried to get back on point. "You still have the toy. Let me see it."

Zharkov's brow lifted a little as Kozel switched to their native tongue, and he leaned back to let the man make his argument, seeming content enough to sit quietly and allow himself to be scolded as he drank his tea. He could understand Kozel's point of view well enough, but it wasn't as if the little toys were some sort of food or precious material. It wasn't as if anyone would be harmed (to his knowledge) from one tiny missing trinket, and he sighed softly as Kozel went on.

"You speak as if I have stolen some grand treasure. I am not a thief Kozel." He grumped. "What if we are the only onesw who even know of this thing? I am telling you, no one would care." He argued with a sigh, and then squinted a little. He could feel the lump in his pocket, where he had jammed it earlier.

"Only if you promise not to break it." He said, and set his cup down before digging the little thing out. He inspected it himself first, and peered over at Kozel, keen on getting an answer.

"We do not know for sure what they are. Perhaps they are grand treasures, and stealing is taking without permission. You took the dog from the forest: you are a thief." Kozel retorted quickly, though he felt silly for arguing so strongly over what appeared be just bizarre little toys... that were on a masive tree in the middle of a spooky forest. Right. He didn't really have an answer for Zharkov's hypothesis, not really wanting to consider that they were the sole finders of such a seemingly large discovery, and it was obvious he was unsure.

"With how near the forest is to White—ah, Oldcastle, others must surely know of it."But he hadn't hear a thing, had he? And neither had Zharkov, it seemed. Never would Kozel have imagined 'learning the lay of the land' meant potentially running into such a perplexing situation. Sighing in exasperation, he reached out for Zharkov's dog, palm flat and demanding. "Of course I will not break it. I only wish to see."

Zharkov sighed softly, seeming to deflate in his seat, expression wilting in a similar fashion. He felt like a scolded child almost, and wished his friend would see reason. It was no use to argue it any further, though he wondered if Kozel had permanently branded him that way. Certainly he had his dealings on the shadier side, but he was no common thief or pickpocket.

He sulkily reached to set the little thing in Kozel's palm before resting back into his chair, picking his cup up again and yawning tiredly. "Perhaps we should ask. I don't know what else you want me to do."

Kozel did not immediately answer at first, drawing back with trinket in hand, picking it up primly between thumb and index like any further contact would infect him with the stench of thief and looking it over with a critical eye. Its marks were like fire, and he felt uneasy holding it when it almost seemed like it would burn him, so he set it down to balance on the table, other hand moving to reach into his own pocket.

"Asking would only be an admission of guilt, Zharkov," he said with a hint of paranoia, "What if we are not even meant to know? What if we were not meant to have gone into the wood?" And, as casually as if he had not just been berating the Okrainan criminal the past whole day for what he had done, Kozel withdrew a totem of his own, a dark figure with pale blue whorls that seemed to match his own shifty glance.

"We should return them," he muttered sheepishly, setting the toy down next to Zharkov's. With its head held proudly high, it almost looked like the other was bowing to it, and he took a moment to appreciate the fitting image, very deliberately avoiding meeting the other man's gaze.

Zharkov watched him quietly before reaching to pour himself more tea, spooning a bit of sugar into his fresh cup. He half expected Kozel to confiscate the little thing, which he would have vehemently opposed. It was his afterall...why did he feel so protective of it already? His brow furrowed as he gazed over at the strange little object, knowing that it was just that, a silly souvenir plucked from some strange, glowing tree.

Kozel's paranoia got his eyes rolling. "No one stopped us from going into the wood. I hear about people going into the wood all the time. It is not as if it is some forbidden place, Kozel, they use it as a resource, like any other forest." He contended, though his tone was mild, as if he were only pointing things out. He suddenly realized a sudden urge to smoke, but knew Kozel would likely kick him out of the room if he lit one of his cigars.

He was about to say something else when Kozel's next action made his jaw drop, and he stared in disbelief as Kozel set down a different toy. "What!!" He snapped, a mix of feelings washing over him, part how dare he, and part relief. A smug grin spread across his scruffy mug, and he crossed his legs, laughing and leaning forward for a closer look.

"I do not think we should, but if you must. I will accompany you." He offered, before setting his cup down and standing up to stretch. "It will have to be tomorrow, I think, and then we will return to Palisade. Can't spend too long away from the inn, afterall."

Though Zharkov's points sounded sensible, Kozel still found himself uncertain if such a forest could really be a resource when there was something as rare and mysterious as a dogwood tree, as he had decided it was, lurking within. But, if he really did mean to return his stolen toy dog, which he could hardly believe he had done and even further, could hardly believe he had admitted to, then better to believe they could slip in again without problem.

Cringing at the reaction he had been dreading, the Katchian looked up in surprise when he heard the other man turn to laughter instead, when he had fully expected, and honestly deserved, a harsh reprimand. Why did it seem like Zharkov was always laughing? "...Thank you," he said warily, taking some more tea to calm his nerves. Kozel should have felt comforted by the idea of returning the totem, but he couldn't shake the dread that had taken him as he looked down at the little figure again.

"Tomorrow it is."

Honestly, Zharkov didn't like the idea at all, and he wondered if Kozel felt the same strange attachment to the toy he had taken. If he didn, was the prospect of losing it or getting rid of it as unappealing as it was to Zharkov? It was something he knew he could not ask, not fully understanding it himself, and certainly not wanting to look insane on top of looking like a lowlife criminal.

Zharkov was rather tempted to scold Kozel for his hypocrisy, but as his eyelids drooped, he realized how heavy he felt, and was glad they would have the rest of the day to recuperate a bit. "Da." Zharkov shrugged out of his coat and slung it over the back of his chair, sighing tiredly. "I do not know about you, Kozel, but I am going to take a nap. We should definitely get dinner later, though. And those drinks." He added with a smirk before wandering over to the bed for a much-needed rest.