Shadows for Silence in the Forests of Hell by Brandon Sanderson Page A

can’t. But I am a good mother. I will protect them.
    The two left the mushrooms, taking up their grisly prize again and tromping through the Forests. They passed more darkened shades floating toward the fight. All of those sparks would draw them. The fortfolk were dead. Too much attention, too much struggle. They’d have a thousand shades upon them before the hour was out.
    Silence and William Ann moved slowly. Though the cold had mostly retreated from Silence’s hand, there was a lingering . . . something. A deep shiver. A limb touched by the shades wouldn’t feel right for months.
    That was far better than what could have happened. Without William Ann’s quick thinking, Silence could have become a cripple. Once the withering settled in—that took a little time, though it varied—it was irreversible.
    Something rustled in the woods. Silence froze, causing William Ann to stop and glance about.
    “Mother?” William Ann whispered.
    Silence frowned. The night was so black, and they’d been forced to leave their lights. Something’s out there, she thought, trying to pierce the darkness. What are you? God Beyond protect them if the fighting had drawn one of the Deepest Ones.
    The sound did not repeat. Reluctantly, Silence continued on. They walked for a good hour, and in the darkness Silence hadn’t realized they’d neared the roadway again until they stepped onto it.
    Silence heaved out a breath, setting down their burden and rolling her tired arms in their joints. Some light from the Starbelt filtered down upon them, illuminating something like a large jawbone to their left. The Old Bridge. They were almost home. The shades here weren’t even agitated; they moved with their lazy, almost butterfly, gaits.
    Her arms felt so sore. That body felt as if it were getting heavier every moment. People often didn’t realize how heavy a corpse was. Silence sat down. They’d rest for a time before continuing on. “William Ann, do you have any water left in your canteen?”
    William Ann whimpered.
    Silence started, then scrambled to her feet. Her daughter stood beside the bridge, and something dark stood behind her. A green glow suddenly illuminated the night as the figure took out a small vial of glowpaste. By that sickly light, Silence could see that the figure was Red.
    He held a dagger to William Ann’s neck. The fort man had not fared well in the fighting. One eye was now a milky white, half his face blackened, his lips pulled back from his teeth. A shade had gotten him across the face. He was lucky to be alive.
    “I figured you’d come back this way,” he said, the words slurred by his shriveled lips. Spittle dripped from his chin. “Silver. Give me your silver.”
    His knife . . . it was common steel.
    “ Now! ” he roared, pulling the knife closer to William Ann’s neck. If he so much as nicked her, the shades would be upon them in heartbeats.
    “I only have the knife,” Silence lied, taking it out and tossing it to the ground before him. “It’s too late for your face, Red. That withering has set in.”
    “I don’t care,” he hissed. “Now the body. Step away from it, woman. Away!”
    Silence stepped to the side. Could she get to him before he killed William Ann? He’d have to grab that knife. If she sprang just right . . .
    “You killed my crew,” Red growled. “They’re dead, all of them. God, if I hadn’t rolled into the hollow . . . I had to listen to it. Listen to them being slaughtered!”
    “You were the only smart one,” she said. “You couldn’t have saved them, Red.”
    “Bitch! You killed them.”
    “They killed themselves,” she whispered. “You come to my Forests, take what is mine? It was your crew or my children, Red.”
    “Well, if you want your child to live through this, you’ll stay very still. Girl, pick up that knife.”
    Whimpering, William Ann knelt. Red mimicked her, staying just behind her, watching Silence, holding the knife steady. William Ann