The following days of travel were marked by an uncomfortable silence for Kálos. He barely heard a word from Pónos. Sometimes she spoke, but rarely did she let him speak.
On the third day, Pónos stopped Ódigos at the bank of a river as the sun set.
— Are you hungry? — the girl asks, already setting up camp.
— Not very. What about you? — asks the knight, dismounting from Ódigos.
— A little. — she says.
— I have one more loaf of bread in my bag. You can eat it, if you wish. — The knight takes out the provision bag, which now lies empty. — I will set some traps in the woods so we have food for tomorrow.
Pónos opens the bag and finds a small loaf of bread, which, despite its size, is enough for one person. — Aren't you going to eat?
— Don't worry about me. — he says, moving toward the lake with a cloth he took from his luggage on Ódigos. — You can eat.
Pónos nods, eating the bread she was given. Meanwhile, Kálos kneels at the river, bothered by the dried blood droplets that still stain his armor. He tries to remove the stain, but it is too late. He hadn't stopped earlier because there were no water sources on the path Pónos had charted. Unlike the wine stain, which was easily removed, he cannot scrub away the blood. Annoyed, he stands up, turns toward the trees, and decides to set the traps so they would have something to eat later.
In the silence of the Líxi woods, he wonders if saving Pónos is worth it. He doesn't feel as fierce now as he did on the first day. He is uncertain, questioning if this is really necessary. As he finishes setting the traps, he hears Pónos screaming from the direction of the river.
He abandons his task, draws his sword, and runs toward the scream. Arriving at the clearing, he sees an Ogre cornering Pónos against the river.
— Kálos! — the young woman screams in despair. — This thing came right at me!
Kálos sees a dagger on the ground, likely belonging to Pónos. He didn't know she was armed until now. He briefly wonders why she had dropped the dagger instead of trying to defend herself. But he doesn't dwell on the thought for long. He picks up a stone from the ground and throws it at the Ogre's head.
— Look at me, creature! — he shouts, trying to draw the two-meter-tall monster's attention.
The Ogre turns, grunting. Its attention is now focused on Kálos. It is green, rotund, and wields a club that must be at least a meter long. Its tusks are sharp, and its eyes are yellow as gold.
Kálos is afraid. He knows he is in trouble. He had never faced anything besides Trákis a few days ago. He has the theoretical knowledge, but he knows practice is different. However, he does not let himself be shaken. He knows that if he runs, or if he tries to lure the monster into the forest to lose it, he will leave Pónos vulnerable. He is willing to risk his own life for Pónos.
He charges toward the ogre, but the ogre promptly raises its weapon and strikes his left side. Kálos rolls across the grass and dirt of the clearing, soiling his armor with earth. He feels the impact, knowing his armor saved him from several broken ribs. Still, he feels pain, and rises through it.
He watches the Ogre walking slowly toward him. It is slow. It lacks steadiness in its legs. He takes a deep breath and uses what strength he has left to dash toward the creature's legs.
The ogre raises the club once more, but before bringing it down, the white knight slides across the ground between the monster's legs, dirtying his armor even further. Once behind the creature, he plunges his sword into its back. The ogre roars, sending the birds in the surrounding trees flying away. Blood splatters onto his armor, a stain that coats his gauntlets, which were once white as snow. He knows he has struck the ogre in the heart when he feels his sword pulse a single, faint time before the monster falls to the ground, kicking up dust that clings to the fresh blood staining his white armor.
He takes a step back, collapsing to the ground, staring at the creature he had defeated. Pónos runs toward the knight, kneels beside him, and embraces him, tears streaming from her eyes.
— You saved me! — she says, her voice thick with fear. — I was so scared.
Kálos swallows his own post-battle anxiety and hugs Pónos, trying to calm her. — It's all right. — he says, standing up with the girl still in his arms.
— I am very afraid. Can you sleep beside me tonight? — the damsel asks.
Kálos feels appreciated for the first time in three days. A sense of an accomplished mission expands within him. He knows he did something noble, and kept the young woman safe. He nods.
After calming the young woman, night finally falls. Kálos lights the campfire and returns to where he set the traps, accompanied by Pónos, who was too afraid to stay alone. He realizes that because he had run off toward her, he hadn't set the traps properly. He returns to the camp with his stomach growling. Hunger had finally caught up with him; after all, he had spent a lot of energy fighting the ogre.
He sits beside Pónos by the fire, watching the stars.
— Thank you for earlier, Kálos. — she says again, a bit calmer now.
— You don't need to thank me. It is what a knight does. — he says, proud of himself. He feels silly, but still, a proud fool.
— I imagine you must be able to hide your fear behind that helmet. I've never seen you without it. — she says.
— It keeps me safe. — he replies. He briefly wonders if she will ask to see his face.
— You must be hungry... I'm sorry about the trap. — she says, making the white knight feel cared for in some way. — Here. — she hands him the bag that held the bread she ate earlier. — There are still a few crumbs inside. — she says, before entering the tent. — I will be waiting for you.
— Thank you. — Kálos says in gratitude, looking at the crumbs the floury bread had left inside the bag. Without further delay, he lifts his visor and eats the remnants of the bread, before joining Pónos inside the tent.
Pónos's sleep is peaceful. She feels safe beside her savior. However, Kálos can barely close his eyes. He keeps his armor on, including the helmet. He doesn't know if another threat might appear during the night, and prefers to be ready. His sword remains at his side.
The smell of the ogre's blood impregnated in his armor bothers him. He would like to go to the lake to clean it before it stains, but he fears he might be caught off guard while washing up. He decides just to try to sleep, but spends the whole night awake. Alert.
When the adrenaline finally fades and he manages to rest, the first rays of light cross the fabric of the tent, waking Pónos. She doesn't leave the tent. She silently observes the white armor Kálos wears. When he finally wakes, Kálos looks at Pónos.
— Your armor is dirty. — she says. — And it has a few scratches now.
Kálos does not answer. He simply watches Pónos's delicate fingers tracing the armor, unafraid of dirtying themselves with the ogre's dried blood.
— In the end, Trákis was wrong about you. — she says. — You know how to protect me. I feel safe by your side. — she says before standing up and leaving the tent.
The girl's words fill Kálos's heart with determination. He cannot die or falter. He will give everything he has to protect her. Whatever it takes.
He follows Pónos out of the tent. They both strike camp. They continue their journey atop Ódigos, while Pónos guides the horse.
— Where are we going, anyway? — Kálos asks for the first time.
— Eiríni — she says. — A village I've always wanted to go to. My family owns a house there. They say there aren't as many monsters there.
— Eiríni... — says Kálos, imagining the place. — Sounds like a peaceful place. — he says, thinking for a few moments. — Why did you live in that tower? — he asks.
— Ah... — Pónos replies. — I was running away from my family. I don't have a good relationship with them. They deprived me of living the way I wanted to.
— And why are you returning to them now?
— I was young. And innocent. I thought the world was simple and that things would be perfect just because they would be my way. — she pauses to think a little. — I was wrong.
Kálos does not answer, nor does he question Pónos's family drama. He has his own problems; he is no one to judge her. At least, that's what he believes. The next few days of travel are lighter. Perhaps he had learned that he could protect himself, and protect someone else. The white knight no longer thought about the insecurity he felt in the previous days and the silent treatment. He was satisfied for now. And that was all that mattered to him.
After two more days of laughter and comfortable conversations, they finally reached the edge of the Woods of Líxi.
— Where are we now, Pónos? — Kálos asks.
— The Wastes of Avévaios. — she says, riding toward a landscape vastly different from the woods of Líxi.
The Wastes of Avévaios is a swamp, shrouded in a dense mist that covers Ódigos's legs. The branches of the surrounding trees bear no leaves. The silence is broken only by sparsely croaking frogs, and by Ódigos's hooves against the shallow water they wade into.
Kálos swallows hard. He knows he will face things worse than ogres here if he gets unlucky. He holds tightly to the hilt of his sword at his waist, expecting the worst.