"Farther in," Miranda said sharply without even looking back to see if Jory was still behind her. She assumed he was, and that was enough now that she could strongly feel the thing that was wrong deep in the heart of the woods.

She'd been called, and that meant Jory as well, four days previous by a desperate village far from the town she, and Jory as well, had been working in. As soon as they'd finished their work, they not hesitated on their way to the village. Jory had not enjoyed that, but honestly, Miranda knew that Jory would get used to her methods eventually.

Something was wrong in the forest. There was no doubt about that from the moment they'd met with the village's residents and the youngsters who'd accidentally encountered the wrongness. They would heal, Miranda knew. That was more Jory's field than hers, however, and he was a century or two short of having the sort of power necessary.

Perhaps, if it seemed she'd need to, Miranda would call in a favor or two.

Once she'd done her part.

Somewhere, behind her, she was fairly sure Jory asked her to slow down. She understood; the path was mostly grown over and it seemed like every growing thing was trying to grab at her hair and horns. Jory was still young and couldn't always do simple things like hide his wings away.

This would be some fine motivation to master that skill.

Besides, there was not time to slow down. That which was wrong had festered for long enough that it was growing stronger than it ever should have been allowed. Miranda cursed herself for not discovering it before, but this was a wooded area beyond a remote village and she could not remember the last time she'd been in the area. Years, decades, centuries before?

It was midday but still dark beneath the forest's canopy and getting darker as they went. And then...

Miranda stopped dead, an arm out to her side to signal Jory. He nearly crashed into her anyway. He was considered an adult by Holy One standards, but he was still young and awkward, questioning and growing. And learning.

"This is..." His voice was rough as he strained for breath. Well, he'd get better with that, too.

"I've been here before," Miranda said flatly. This town, she knew. This town that was no more, abandoned and devoured by trees and vines and eventually something very wrong. How long had it been? Centuries, probably. The other village was in a better location, closer to a river and the land seemed rich. Though there could have been disease here, or something else. Invaders were one possibility; raids still happened by bandits, targeting small villages and taking all they could including lives.

But the few bits of walls that remained did not suggest that. They felt fine. There was nothing about them that offered pain to Miranda.

She ran her tongue over her fangs as she thought.

"Stay put," she said to Jory without glancing back. She knew the expression he'd have and how his tawny wings would draw in a bit. "I mean it. Do not move from that spot."

And then she took a step forward, straight into the territory of the wrong.

At first, there was no change. But Miranda knew she was being watched and weighed. But there was nothing in this wrong that could properly understand her. There were few in the entire world that could properly understand her.

That was for the better.

She walked between ruins, touching all she could with ungloved hands, making sure all was well. And it was, it was...

Then she spotted it, initially blocked by trees and vines and shadows-

Miranda sighed and turned back towards where she'd left Jory. As much as she'd wanted to leave him in safety this time around, she knew him too well already. If she was gone for too long, he'd move. And then he'd be in danger.

Almost surprisingly, he was waiting, his light hair bright in a tiny patch of sunlight that crept through the leaves. He indeed had his wings out, and was staring at her like she was water in his desert.

"Come with me," she said flatly. "But stay close. I need to go farther than I'd realized."

The wrong's territory was impressive, really. It would have been noticed far quicker within an inhabited village and she might've taken care of it in an instant. Thought it wouldn't have needed her. Any Holy One of any skill would have been able to do it.

There was always surprise when she arrived to answer a call, for she was as far from a Holy One as could be. Perhaps that was why she'd been offered Jory as an assistant. Miranda almost smiled as Jory stepped to her side.

Well, maybe in a few decades he'd grow into the work.

"There's a church," Miranda said softly. "Or perhaps just a shrine."

"Why is it always churches?" Jory questioned. "It feels like it's always churches."

"It isn't always churches." A few dead leaves crunched under her boot. But Jory had a point. There had been a lot of churches in their short time together.

The church was as ruined as the rest of the village, as was the small graveyard beside it. Had the youngsters even come this far, where the wrong was nearly tangible as it circled them? Miranda glanced to Jory and confirmed he was as pale as she suspected.

"Side door," she said.

And she stepped into the graveyard, immediately feeling the weak remains of its blessing. The wrong did not come from any the graves, though Miranda didn't have time to check each one for anything lingering and lesser. Not yet.

The itch of being where she shouldn't be struck her as she crossed the threshold of the church's side door. Perhaps that was half of it. Perhaps that was all of it.

The wrong gathered inside, black and thick and damp. And there were bones, so many bones.

Whatever Jory said, Miranda didn't hear as she gently moved her hand and swept aside long-dead birds and rabbits and other forest critters. It was the skeleton in the center of the church that concerned her.

"I am sorry," she said as she took another handful of steps and then sprang forward, ungloved hand into the wrong. "You should no longer be. I will give you rest."

In an instant, it was no more, removed from existence and leaving only a weathered skeleton and a few bits of metal.

Jory stepped beside Miranda and then sucked in his breath.

"A demon?" he asked, and Miranda nodded her head.

"He was badly injured already and could not leave again. Perhaps it was dark, perhaps it was raining," she said. "I cannot know."

In that instant, between when she grabbed hold of the wrong and when it had ceased to be, she had known enough. There had been pain, desperation, longing...

And then centuries in a place once dedicated to the god whose army had injured him.

"We'll bury him outside," Miranda said as she reached to her side and the flap of the bag she kept with her.

Jory said nothing when she pulled a shovel from it, which was sort of disappointing. Instead, he reached to take it.

"Are you able to tell where a safe place for him is?" she questioned, and Jory nodded. Close to the cemetery would be best, beyond the blessing, but she'd let Jory choose a spot that felt comfortable.

Once he'd left, Miranda swept aside more animal bones and then knelt. She had a blanket in her bag to wrap him in and she pulled it out quietly.

One day, she'd tell Jory more things. It wasn't that she didn't trust him. She did trust him. But he was so young and she was so...

The more he knew, the more questions he would have. The time wasn't right.

Carefully, she moved the skeleton to the blanket, along with a few remaining bits of possessions. Though fallen through to the stone floor was something she could hope Jory hadn't seen. Quickly, she slipped the metal tags from The War into her bag. She'd mail them on in the next city they visited. She always had mail to send and collect and Jory wouldn't question.

Jory had chosen a spot a bit further from the graveyard than Miranda would have picked, but as a soft wind blew, the sun shone through the leaves on it in a way that felt incredibly peaceful.

"Keep digging," Miranda said as she gently placed the bundle in her arms down on the ground a short distance from where Jory dug. "I have a few more things to do."

She'd help dig, once she'd finished, if Jory needed the help. But first she had the graveyard to attend to. Being that close to something so wrong could have started to spread...

There were more graves than still marked and it took a bit of strength to right every toppled stone, but Miranda attended to each, checking every resident for anything that remained that shouldn't. But most of the remains were nearly nothing after such a long time. The bits that had not returned to the earth were quiet, even the Holy One in the back.

Perhaps she would tell Jory about that.

Miranda stepped into the church again and retrieved the one thing she hadn't been able to carry. Up, beneath the bones of deer and wolves and the rotten wood of a pew, towards the missing altar was a sword. It confirmed the information on the metal tags and even Jory gasped when she walked back to him with it.

"Do you need help?" she asked, but Jory shook his head. Either she'd taken longer in the graveyard than she'd realized or he was made for gravedigging.

It still felt like midday.

Miranda traded the sword for the bundle, cradling it on her lap in silence as Jory worked.

It still felt like midday when Jory took the bundle from her and gently tucked it into the hole.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

"Stand," Miranda said as she did the same. When Jory was at her side, she took his hand, forgetting that she hadn't put her gloves back on. It didn't matter. He didn't shy from her claw-like nails nor the power that she contained. He always accepted the things she could do with curiosity and amazement.

She should tell him...

They stood in silence for a long time, but it still felt like midday.

...but not today.

"Rest comfortably now."

She, Mysayrida, High Demon and the One Tasked With Destroying That Which Should Not Be, could not find any other words.

She could not find any other words as she buried known kin.

Together, she and Jory knelt and began to fill in the hole by hand until the blanket was covered entirely, and then Miranda sat back on her heels while he filled in the rest with the shovel.

The sword made a fine marker, thrust into the ground by Jory with almost surprising force.

"I don't want it to fall," he mumbled. It wouldn't. Miranda knew it wouldn't.

The sun was low on the horizon as they walked from the woods and through the fields toward the little village.

"You knew him," Jory said once the village's lights were in sight.

"Yes," Miranda admitted. "Does that surprise you?"

"No," Jory replied. It was too dark to see his expression but Miranda suspected he was smiling. "Not really. I'm sorry, though, for what he became."

Miranda shook her head. It was something that could happen and it had. That was all.

"We put him to rest, and I think when we explain that it was someone else also hurting, it will ease the pain of those youngsters. They may even tend his grave in the future, and those in that churchyard."

"You think so?"

Miranda was not expecting Jory to reach for her hand and squeeze it. She'd put her gloves back on once they'd left the abandoned village. She'd fixed her hair and brushed the dirt from her clothes.

She squeezed Jory's hand and then didn't let go right away.

"Good work today," she said.

Jory made for a good assistant. She supposed she wouldn't mind a few centuries with him at her side.