Old Andrew follows me. "You don't know what you're looking for."
"The way out," I say loudly.
If I'm lucky, it'll have one of those light-up "EXIT" signs over it. After all, this has got to all be a dream and it's the sort of reality breaking thing that could and should exist in my dream forest when I'm desperate to find it.
"You should have looked for the owner of the clothes you stole," says Old Andrew. "My boy would have shown you the way out."
I disagree but keep it to myself. I also wonder if Old Andrew knew his son was holding me for... however long I must have been at the cottage. It has to have been longer than a day or two for me to have bruises on top of fading bruises on top of almost faded bruises.
"Mind, he would likely have been busy with his new girl," says Old Andrew. "They're in their honeymoon stage. Which might be why he was dumb enough to leave perfectly good clothing lying around."
I do my best to walk along the path faster than him, to hint without saying a word that maybe I don't want his company. He ignores what I want and hurries along behind. He never quite catches me and I have no interest in slowing down. Even when I need to stop and rest because I must have been doing this for hours, I keep going.
"Here's the pond," Old Andrew says cheerfully.
Now I stop. As far as I know, the only place to go from here is Young Andrew's cottage - if it can be called that -- and I really don't want to go there.
"And they've left all the bedding in it," Old Andrew tuts.
He walks over and pokes around in the furs and blankets lying half in the mud and half in the water. It's hard to look after him -- and then I realise the body isn't floating in the pond any more and I have nothing to worry about. Well, other than where it is now.
"Looks like they've had a wolf sniffing around this mess, too," Old Andrew says. "Were the spoor here when you found the clothes?"
I shake my head.
Not that I would know what he means by "spoor", never mind how he knows it means a wolf has been here. I look around in case I can see a wolf but there's nothing. No dog, no dog-like creature, nothing but trees, the pond and the path. This is a shame. I could do with some way of getting Old Andrew off my case.
"I better let my boy know there's a wolf around," he says.
I stare at the discarded things and try to pretend he isn't there.
"You'd better come with me," he says. "You need to keep to this path and the path continues past his place."
Damn.