The next morning, Liam woke to the smell of bread and herbs. The old man—who introduced himself as Silas—was stirring something in a blackened pot over the fire.
"Morning, lad," Silas said with a smile. "Eat up. You've got a journey ahead of you."
Liam rubbed the sleep from his eyes and sat at the small wooden table. As he ate, Silas pulled out a worn map and spread it before him.
"You're here," the old man said, pointing to a dot near the forest. "Greystone is there. You're close—half a day's walk if you go straight, but there's the river."
Liam's face fell. "A river?"
"Aye. It's fast and wide. No bridge anymore. Washed out last year in a storm. But," he added, his eyes twinkling, "there's a ferryman who still crosses, if you can find him."
Liam looked at the map. The river cut across the land like a scar. He had come so far—he couldn't turn back now.
"I'll find him," Liam said.
Silas nodded. "I believe you will."
The boy left at dawn, a walking stick in one hand, a bag of food in the other. The sky was clear, and birds sang in the trees. The forest was gentler here, and the sun streamed down through the leaves.
But by midday, the trees thinned, and the sound of rushing water filled the air.
He reached the river's edge. It was wider than he imagined, its current strong and loud. Pieces of broken bridge still jutted from the banks like ancient bones. There was no one in sight.
"Hello?" Liam called. "Is anyone there?"
No answer.
He walked upstream for nearly an hour, calling out every so often. His throat grew dry. He was about to give up when he saw something—an old boat tied to a crooked post, and beside it, a man in a dark coat, hunched over a fishing line.
"Are you the ferryman?" Liam asked.
The man didn't turn around. "Depends. Who's asking?"
"I need to cross. I'm looking for my mom. She might be in Greystone."
The ferryman slowly stood and turned. His eyes were sharp beneath his hood.
"Dangerous journey for a child. And what makes you think she's still there?"
Liam's voice wavered, but he stood tall. "Because I believe she is. And I won't stop until I find her."
For a long moment, the ferryman stared at him.
Then, without a word, he untied the boat and motioned for Liam to get in.
The crossing was rough. Water splashed over the sides. The boat rocked and groaned. Liam gripped the edges, heart pounding, eyes locked on the far shore.
"You're brave, kid," the ferryman said suddenly. "But courage isn't about not being scared. It's about doing what you must—despite the fear."
Liam nodded, too afraid to speak.
Finally, the boat scraped against the opposite bank. Liam jumped out, nearly falling into the mud.
"Thank you!" he called.
The ferryman just nodded once and pushed off into the current.
Liam turned, soaked but determined. Greystone was close now. He could feel it.