One look at Amandine and Faline could tell that she was less than happy to hear that they were to retrieve a lost artifact from ancient Dragonians. She listened to the petite woman and took another look at the legend in the book, she noticed the markings in the margins of the book while she began to write notes on a blank paper.

Sir Dorian gave a sympathetic smile to Amandine as she explained one of the many legends of her people. "While I understand your sarcasm, Amandine. This disease has been proven to affect all races throughout Vradia, not just humans and Elvian. This is much bigger than protecting an ancient trinket with magical properties," he explained as there was a look in Dorian's eye that Faline didn't like. Faline paused to listen to Torsten and Simbel give a show of support for Amandine's connection to the Dragonian culture and support for the quest at hand.

Dorian was about to speak when Faline stopped him. "Our mentors have already found the ruins," Faline said as she crossed her arms while showing Amandine the code she had broken. "My uncle wouldn't suggest taking something from an ancient culture unless it was agreed upon. He's a negotiator at heart. He could probably convince a tree to give up its leaves if necessary. The ruins they found were void of life, not including forest animals and vegetation. That's my uncle's handwriting and marks in the margins of the book. It was his mission to locate the ruins," she said as Dorian nodded in agreement to Faline's conclusion.

"Sir Nikolai didn't have time to retrieve the Amulet by himself, not with the increase of Duskrot cases. He thought that it would be best to test you younger members," Sir Dorian explained as he placed a different piece of paper on the table. "This is your supply list. I would suggest you rest here tonight and take off in the morning. I'll have the cook bring in a meal for all of you," he instructed before leaving the room.

"Well, isn't that just fantastic? This night is just full of surprises," Faline muttered as she looked at Amandine. "I hope we don't have to use the Amulet, my uncle noted in the legend that the side effects of the magic aren't great," she explained as a very short, round old woman trotted in. The pot-bellied woman was definitely of dwarven descent with a long, grayed braid rolled up into two buns on her head. She rolled in a cart with a large stew pot on top, then a basket of biscuits and a few desserts on the tray below with the bowls and silverware.

"Y'll needin' to eat up now, gots to have yas strength. Or so says the boss," the old woman said as she passed out the bowls and soup spoons.

Amandine continued to watch and listen. They kept surprising her in various ways, and she found herself lowering her guard a little. They might come from different backgrounds, but they don't seem to be bad people. The Paladin spoke with wisdom, the reclusive Druid displayed empathy, the Ranger stepping up to lead, and the Mage was attentively listening to everyone. She had to stifle a giggle at how matter-of-factly Simbelmyne responded to her sarcasm.

Amandine sighed and relaxed her tone. “My people have lived in the Western Rife Mountains, back when both the Dragons and Dragonians roamed the land. We are simple folk, herding animals like mountain goats, and they provided protection in exchange for gold.” She looked at each of them. “Since they disappeared, life in our land has grown worse. Monsters began to roam, bandits and marauders plough through, searching for long-lost treasures and wealth, hurting anyone they encounter. The Emperor's protection is limited, and we are far away. People leave for the cities, our population dwindles, and our homes become as sparse as the ruins.”

“I am here as a scholar, and what you see as an ancient trinket with magical properties is the remnant of their god. Would you willingly sacrifice your gods to this cause, for potential hostile strangers?” She knew both Torsten and Simbel understood her implication well, even though it was futile, as Faline explained. “Though, as Faline said, we were born in the wrong era to encounter a Dragonian. If any are still around, my Shifu would have mentioned it.”

She refocused on the task at hand. “So, our mission is to navigate dangerous, booby-trapped ruins filled with the angry remains of Dragonians.”

As the others continued to speak and interact, she warmly greeted the dwarf cook and inspected the food, inhaling its scent to identify the ingredients in the stew. She glanced at the four beds behind her. “So, who's sharing a bed?” To be fair, she was willing to sleep on the floor to avoid any arguments, but she wanted to see how the team would collaborate to address this matter.

---

---

---

"I will sleep on the floor." he said as he looked towards Amandine, and then back at the others, then back to Amandine, "Life and death are the same; I cannot take something important from anyone regardless of their god or their hostilities to people. But what you say is true; regardless, we are entering a world unknown to many of us. A likely hostile environment, so we must prepare ourselves. But, many things are resilient Miss Amandine; life itself is at its core. But, I typically fight, heal, and lead warriors in battle. Someone of chaotic discipline who has set ideas, tactics, and rules. This will be a new experience for me, doing things independently without a group of brothers beside me. I have each of you, but if I speak honestly, this is a new field for me. But our task at hand, thankfully seems easy if it was not for the wyrds taint from the object."

Torsten looked down at what was upon him, and for the most part, he hoped that it would be cooler in climate than their current location, but for armor, he had what he needed: arms, not as much. He wished he had more variety than what he had brought with him, well, what he could salvage and scavenge. But most of that planning and initial thought went away quickly with the sight of something out of the corner of his eye: food. He looked back up and let out a low hum. The dwarven woman was a different sight, but the food was welcomed regardless of what it was. He was relatively still at that moment, just awaiting the moment to begin eating. he looked like he had plenty to eat with whatever he did, but how he looked at the bowl likely showed a different story. That is likely of better quality in ingredients than he has had previously.

He shook that off momentarily and looked at the paper, "What does it read? What all do we have for this starting journey?"

Dorothea accepted the soup-filled bowl with but a silent nod and grateful look to the Dwarven woman. The conversation had advanced so rapidly she almost lost herself in her mind a few times. It was clear however that her Master had some sort of plan. A plan that perhaps did not completely align with these shadowy conspirators...

How she wished he had confided more in her...

For now, she resolved to follow the vocal self-declared leaders of the group. Faline and Amandine both brought good qualities to the table, reassuring and friendly, focused and goal-oriented. They would need all of that and more if their destination was an ancient ruin in the Mountains. With a frown, her tongue finally registered the texture of the soup. It was...not disagreeable, though perhaps she had grown used to more exotic meals back in the Gallows. With a heavy swallow, she cleared her throat and finally spoke.

"R-Regard...regardless of it-it's supposed rel-religious v-value-" She began, eyes squeezed shit for a moment in an attempt at calming her frayed nerves. "-It could...s-still assist i-in finding a cure. Dra-Dragonian magic is an entirely sep-seperate discipline from th-the arcane teachings of m-mages. We k-know so little a-about th-their practices, that t-there is a c-chance they encountered this di-disease before, and c-cured it." A grimace graced her lips as she continued, doing her best to meet Amandine's gaze. "While...distasteful to r-rob graves, we ca-cannot leave this o-option unexplored. T-Too much is at stake."

She was under no illusions that the Rifer would approve of it, but Dorothea hoped that by reminding her about the growing death-toll around the Empire, she would put aside her reservations until they had been pointed in the right direction. Perhaps then they could return the Amulet to it's resting place again? Her attempt to voice that suggestion was quickly derailed as the talk of sleeping arrangements emerged, and that raging embarrassing blush reared it's ugly head again. With a mumbled stammer the mage simply offered to sleep on a bedroll if needed. So long as she didn't have to share a room, she should be...alright?

Simbel looked at what apparently passed for food being sloshed into wooden bowls and offered around to her fellow companions. She could see the individual components swimming around in the slop, see the minced and mashed pieces of the plants and animals sacrificed to make this... this thing. All of it wasted. All of it ruined. Nice, tender rabbits slaughtered, only to be defiled. She couldn't stop her nose from wrinkling at the smell, and as the ignorant woman turned to offer Simbel a bowl of her own, she realized she must be frowning too, because the woman shied back when meeting her gaze. I do not eat... that, she said, holding out her hand to pass up on the stew. I will hunt my own food.

Turning around, her yellow eyes fell on the next affront. The so-called beds. Damp, dirty, lice infested sacks of cloth. And they were supposed to... to share them? It was more than Simbel could bear. As if having to sleep cooped up inside a small, smelly house wasn't enough, they expected her to degrade herself even further? No. She would sleep in the fresh air, under a starlit sky, where she could smell the scents of night and hear its denizens. She looked about the room, searching for some kind of solace, but there was none. A small window up by the rafters caught her attention. It would probably serve.

I will sleep in the wild, she said, I will find you at dawn. Then, without waiting for an answer, she transformed once more. In a matter of moments her hair and skin had been exchanged for a white feather coat, her arms for wings, and her legs for razor sharp talons. The eagle took flight, slipped through the window, and was lost in the night.

Amandine was surprised as her words sparked a sense of panic among the others, all volunteering to take the floor in deference to each other. It was a heart-warming sight to say the least, and it gave her a good measure of the different personalities within the group.

She nodded toward Dorothea, who still seemed anxious and stammered a bit. She smiled warmly at the young girl and said, “From my research, they did have a cure, as I mentioned earlier. Those with Duskrot are vulnerable to fire. So they treated it by purging the victims with flames, preventing it from spreading that way. Those infected willingly underwent the process to protect their loved ones. The difference with humans is that they tend to run and scatter, like rats on a sinking ship, thus spreading the disease, which then grows out of control.” She paused for a moment and added, “Not to say the amulet wouldn't work; the Hiemaquas are a different tribe. We might uncover a lot from their ruins about their customs, which would be priceless in itself.”

Her red eyes then fell on Simbelmyne, watching her with curiosity at her brutally honest nature. She could tell that Simbelmyne was a pure soul beneath that socially rough but intriguing exterior. The moment when Simbelmyne transformed into a bird and flew out the window made Amandine wonder what roast eagle might taste like. Perhaps it was a good thing they weren't sharing a bed; otherwise, she might find herself considering eating the Elvian.

Amandine grabbed a biscuit and turned to others. “It looks like there are enough beds for us after all,” she said, smiling toward them for a moment. “Though, I think I may take one of the top bunks.”

---

---

"Five-bed rolls and a crate of supplies for the trip, or so it appears. It says that each mentor has placed appropriate weapons in the chest with their symbol on it," Faline replied to Torsten's question about the list. She turned to hear Simbel shift and fly out the window. "Interesting, I hadn't seen a druid change shape in front of others so willingly before," she commented after the white eagle had flown away.

"Unfortunately, Dorothea is correct, we can't leave the cure to Duskrot in the air if the amulet is part of the cure. Plus, Dragonians can withstand fire long enough to cure the Duskrot from the body. Humans and Elvians aren't unless they are born with an affinity for fire magic," Faline said as she grabbed a bowl of Cook's stew, not one to pass up a free meal.

"The boss says that ya kids will need to be up early in the morn," Cook said before she placed the rest of the food on the table. "Best be gettin' to bed after eating." The dwarven woman rolled her cart out of the room. The silence is filled with the squeakiness of the wheels on the cart.

After finishing her bowl of stew and biscuit, Faline took one of the bottom bunks placing her pack on the bag before she went back over to the table to read her uncle's notes. She frowned as there was nothing left to decipher except the location of the ruins. "I have a feeling that there is more going on than just Duskrot. With our mentors being separated on various missions, it almost feels like a deliberate action," she said as she pulled out her uncle's journal to see if there was anything that she could find that would help them tomorrow on their journey.

With the moon as her only companion, Simbel soared high above the roofs and chimneys of the town. She liked it up here, far above the troubles and hardships of the world. The night sky was silent, tranquil even. A sacred place, unlike the filthy streets below, with their smell and their ruckus. She needed time to think about all that had happened tonight. It was a lot to take in. Most of all, she wanted guidance, but Mother was not there to help her. Why had she abandoned Simbel like that? Why had she put her up for this task, with these people? None of it made sense. Simbel felt lost and lonely, far away from the comfort of the woods of her coven. She wondered what the other witches would have thought of this. Did they know? Simbel couldn’t tell.

She spotted a small grove a ways outside of the town, and flew over. It was a small place, no doubt set upon by hunters and loggers during the day, but it would serve her for the night. She found roots, berries and mushrooms to eat, and a small stream provided water. It had the tang of livestock to it, but Simbel could find no alternative and so was contended. The sounds and scents of the night descended on her like a comforting blanket, and she found herself at peace. A fox eyed her warily from a bush nearby, and when Simbel greeted it, it came to her for warmth and comfort. With the small animal in her lap, the witch pondered her next course of action.

She had decided upon holding her word to the group and would return to them in the morning. As much as she was suspicious of the entire affair, she wanted to see where the path would take her. It also seemed like the best way to find Mother, and for that she was almost desperate. There were too many uncertainties, though. She needed guidance. And Simbel knew where to find it.

The fox leaped from her lap as she stood. She gathered twigs and fallen branches for the fire, and prepared the runes around it just as she had been taught. Finally, she produced the small effigy of the Horned One and put it in the center of the pyre. With that, the preparations were done. Next came the summoning.

The sounds coming from Simbels mouth would have sent grown men scrambling in horror. The incantations were of the secret tongue of the Wilder, privy only to those initiated into the circle. As she finished the first passage, the pyre lit up with an otherworldly flame, bathing the grove in hues of azure, emerald, and amethyst. Simbel continued with the second passage, the fox observing her with curious eyes from under its bush. As the incantation came to an end, the flames went out as suddenly as they had appeared.

Now, she would wait for an answer.

It came creeping through the shadows, slithering in the wind, crawling at the edges of Simbels vision and in the back of her mind. She felt the tug, sudden and harsh, her eyes rolling. Then she fell to the ground, and all was black. In the darkness, she was carried by strong arms, caressed by sharp talons, to another place and another time. She saw herself, filthy and bewildered, hunched over in an alley, looking to and fro with eyes struck by paranoia. Her right hand was grasping something, the knuckles white from exertion.

They cannot have it, the Simbel that was not Simbel whispered to herself, Cannot see it, cannot touch it. Never! It is mine.

There was a nervous edge to her voice, a restless quiver, that felt unnatural and worrying. The Simbel looked down at her hand, slowly opening the fingers, revealing the object inside. It was an amulet, looking eerily like the token that Mother had left behind. Before Simbel could investigate further, the other Simbel closed her fist once more. She turned her head, and for a moment they were looking right at each other.

You cannot have it either, the Simbel said, baring her teeth in a snarl. Then the strong arms carried her away once more, leaving her deranged mirage behind in the darkness.

Simbel woke on the forest floor. The fox sat by her side, observing her. She sat up, rubbing her eyes. The vision was already becoming unfocused, but she remembered the message: there was something off about the amulet. The effigy was left, unscathed, in the remains of the fire. Simbel picked it up and placed it back where it belonged. A new day was dawning, and the time had come for her to return to the group. Whether she would tell them of her discovery, she had not yet decided. She bid the fox farewell and took flight once more, heading for the town.

---

"There is always something more," he said quietly as he ate. He went through anything near him that was not really near anyone else. But he did it with that tiny bit of grace a massive brute like him can have. His face and beard did have some biscuit crumbles in his beard, which he would slowly pick and comb out with his fingers. But he looked like the jolly massive mountain man he was eating away at that moment. He wondered if the item was something of resistance to the current plague or if it. He slowly stretched, "It's good that they've thought of what we might need. Rations should do if we are fast."
"But as long as we are prepared, what could go wrong?" he asked, looking at the others with a chuckle. "But no, really, setting assigned items, for the most part, it's simple but... It's more for unexpected things. I already have many things on me: a hatchet for fire and such. It is likely just me worrying a bit; typically, I have soldiers and monks with me, so sorry, but this will be new for me... in experiences with others. That well, such as yourselves, I've never worked with mages, those of the forest some, but it will likely be new for all of us."

Torsten laid back in his chair some as he finished eating, and he slowly stood, "Since the beds are sorted, I am going to retire." he said as he moved to the bed closest to the door and he set his things down before he sat on the bed and moved his feet underneath himself. He closed his eyes as his head hung down, and he turned against the wall. He prayed as he waited through the time, taking a deep breath and sighed. He just sat there, not expecting interruptions or anything of the sort as he would try to keep his life at that moment simple and routine, but he had the feeling in his gut that it would change after this day, be it the people around him, or the adventure he was to be upon. He knew that his life would change; he wondered how he would change and how those around him in that moment would change.

"May god see us through, may the light shine upon us," he said before slowly moving the things in front of him and laying down facing the wall should those in the room wish to continue their modesty.

Amandine, after finishing her meal, excused herself to freshen up and change into more comfortable nightwear. She returned wearing a simple silk top and shorts, heading for the top bunk she had identified earlier. She noticed that Faline was already settling down underneath and offered a warm smile as she climbed up. After bidding everyone a good night, she settled into a meditative position, preparing herself for rest.

Throughout the evening, she remained quiet and contemplative. Amandine focused her thoughts, reviewing the events of the day and guiding herself into a restful, meditative slumber. She was known to be an early riser, so after only a few hours of sleep, she found herself wide awake and ready to face the new day.

---

---

Faline blinked her eyes open, finding her uncle's notebook in her hand, and realized that what happened yesterday wasn't a dream. Five individuals who seemed completely opposite of one another were recruited into a secret guild by their predecessors. The young woman with the fiery locks quietly sat up and sighed. She softly rubbed the back of her neck then walked over to the fireplace that seemed to have been burning all night. The fire's light flickered against the five chests on the hearth's edges. She knelt in front of the chest with the symbol that was on her token. She gently ran her fingers over the engraving before she opened the trunk to see what her uncle had left her.

The two dark green sheths first took Faline's attention. She carefully opened the sheths to find two obsidian steel double-ended daggers with a rich brown leather handle connected the blades together. There was also a beautiful bow that Faline had remembered seeing somewhere but couldn't quite place where exactly. The bow was made of oak and was light but sturdy. The quiver with arrows matched the leather of the daggers. She ran her fingers along the stitching of the quiver and stopped when she reached the engraving on the bottom seam. Faline's jaw dropped open as she couldn't believe that her uncle was even giving this to her.

Faline reached in to find a more well-made traveling bag that appeared to fit everything she would need. She began to quietly pack the new bag with the supplies from her old one. Soon, the sound of Cook burst through the door with her kitchen cart, it had startled Faline, causing her to curse in Elvian with surprise.

"Ya all needin' to get a move on. The mornin' light is breakin' the horizon," Cook said as she placed some breakfast buns on the table. Dough balls about the size of a man's fist stuffed full of eggs, cheese, rice, and mutton. The old dwarven woman also placed bowls of fruit on the table before heading out.

Faline finished packing her bag and adjusting her attire before she grabbed a breakfast bun, an apple, and a pear. She remembered a bit last night and grabbed another apple and pear. Simbel hadn't had anything to eat last night. Although Faline was fairly confident that the Elvian woman could find food on her own, it wouldn't hurt to bring her a little something. Once she was finished getting ready, Faline looked at the others.

"Are you all ready to head out?" Faline asked with a gentle smile.

---

The man was on the floor beside his bed; his head was bowed, and his face was covered on the side towards the other women. He lifted his head slowly, and the man stood as he nodded when the cook came in. There was not much to him, which saved him a lot of time, and thankfully, prayer time came as dawn came. He looked over at the buns on the table and slowly shuffled his things back around him. A long sword and a wooden round shield hung off his belt. He slid his cloaks over them each and let himself become the block of mountain man that he was. He also moved a bow through a small hanging leather piece, letting it rest there as it sat partway on his leg and another part on his back.

He looked at a small pack, likely full of food and such, and lifted it over his shoulder as he let it hang on his back. Torsten looked towards Faline and nodded softly, "I am ready; I assume our changeling friend will be as well... She will be a good scout. She is one closer to nature and can be much smaller than us.."

The man slowly approached the table as he looked down at the bun. With one hand, he lifted one to look at it with finer detail, smelling it, squeezing it, and finally taking a small bite. Then he ate slowly, making sure to eat it slowly. Moving back towards the bed he was in and the door, he would finish his bun quickly, efficiently, and with little thought to anything taste.

"Enjoy your food, for we will likely not have as much in the near future, I have a few pots and pans to cook and toolsets for preparation, but it may not be as good."

It appeared that Faline had discovered a collection of boxes, each one seemingly designated for a particular member of their group. Amandine observed with curiosity as Faline began to unpack her box, revealing a set of finely crafted equipment that exuded quality and craftsmanship. It was clear that these were high-quality items tailored to their individual needs. Torsten, on the other hand, seemed to have a set of camping supplies, likely intended for his long journey. Dorothea was still in the process of getting ready, and Amandine, after descending from the bunk bed, made her way to her own sealed chest.

As she approached her chest, Amandine couldn't help but wonder about Simbel's whereabouts. She briefly entertained the hope that the Elvian might be inside the chest, though disappointment set in when she found it empty. However, what did catch her attention was a scroll nestled within. She picked up the Dragonian scroll, carefully unfastened the binding lace, and gently used the wooden handles to unfurl it before her. Inside, she found a golden reflective surface, devoid of any writing or markings. A sense of curiosity washed over her as she gazed at the scroll, contemplating its possible significance. She made some assumptions about its enigmatic meaning and decided to stow it away in her pack for safekeeping.

Amandine eagerly helped herself to the food, and once everyone had finished eating, she took it upon herself to gather the remaining scraps and pack them neatly. Faline shot her an inquisitive look, prompting Amandine to look up and chuckle. "What can I say? I am a growing girl," she quipped with a grin.

As she finished collecting the leftovers, she noticed Torsten preparing himself for their journey. He carried a rather sizable rucksack that looked a few sizes too big for her petite frame. Amandine nodded toward him, her expression determined. "I'm ready," she affirmed.

---

---

Simbel quietly came in through the same window she'd used to exit the inn on the previous night, shifting back to her true shape and landing sitting on the rafters. She dangled her legs, observing her would-be companions below. Some of them were busy rummaging through chests; apparently, their forbears had left them gifts. It didn't take Simbel long to find what she assumed was her chest, adorned with goat. She jumped down from the rafter, sending the serving lady scrambling, and went to her chest. Opening it, she drew a sharp intake of breath.

It was too much. In it lay not only Mothers shillelagh, but her prized Ungolianth-stringed hornbow, too. Simbel picked it up, testing its draw strength. She would hav had a hard time pulling it, had she not been imbued with the power of her patron. Along with the bow came a quiver of obsidian tipped arrows; treasures all. She decided to only use the bow in emergencies, as loosing even a single arrow would be a shame. She had half-expected to find an amulet in the chest, but was relieved there was none to be found. A problem for later, it seemed.

Simbel donned her Mothers possessions - hers now - and rose. She turned to face her companions, and nodded. She was ready to go.

Dorothea's sleep had not been as peaceful as she had hoped. She hadn't slept in the same room as another person since she was a young apprentice, not yet even flowered. To do so again after all this time proved to be a great challenge, though eventually, and thankfully, exhaustion had claimed her and sent her into the realm of dreams and memories. Yet even there she would not find respite...

The dream began innocently enough, a memory of an archeological dig Master Arvis had them partake in months prior, studying fragmented stone carvings and runes in search of some lost lore or spell. She swore it was sunny that day, though the dreamscape depicted the site as bathed in rain and fog. She felt the rattling platemail of the Guardians at her side, their hands resting on the pommel of swords, ready to cut them both down at the slightest sign of insubordination. She hatedthem. She still hated them.

And then as she repeated words beneath her breath, scribbling them down in a great book, she uttered the wrong word, and the whole dreamscape found itself swallowed up by a black void. She was alone. Again. Her Master was lost in that great darkness, and with all her might she reached out to catch him.

It was not enough. It was never enough.

She was the last to crawl out from beneath the covers when the morning came. She saw the others were already in various stages of readiness. Her stomach grumbled at the sight of their breakfast, and despite herself she happily devoured more than she probably should. The Dwarven cook knew her buns, that was for sure. Of course, after every binge came the gnawing guilt. She was taking advantage of the woman, and it stung.

Though, thankfully, she did not have time to wallow in self-pity for too long, as a chest was pointed out to her. A chest upon which rested the same carved crest as the one on the medallion that had lead her to this place. Anxiously, she pressed a hand softly against that symbol, and reverently opened it. Within, resting upon a bed of rough fabric, sat a worn spellbook, and the disassembled pieces of a great magical staff. She noted the knife-like blade upon it's end, and the soft blue light emanating from the gem adorned at it's top. This could not have been easily made, and likely cost a great deal of gold. Her heart fluttered in her chest.

The book contained main pages of arcane knowledge she was familiar with, but curiously an even greater amount of blank pages, worn but never used. Were they left so she could inscribe her own findings in them, at some point in a nebulous future?

She had been entrusted with all this. It was almost too much to take in...

And yet, Master Arvis had one final gift to deliver, for the rough fabric lying at the bottom of the chest was in fact a set of more non-descript robes. Far less likely to draw attention to her compared to the bright-blue apparel marking her as a mage of the Gallows. Excusing herself to a more private corner of the room, she giddly threw off the gold-accented silk and replaced it with the brown leather. She was not free. Not quite yet, but she had taken a great step forward.

Returning to the group, she gave Faline a nod, and spoke. "Y-Yes, I am ready to depart."

"Off we go, I suppose," Faline said as she adjusted the straps of her pack on her shoulders before walking through the door into the main tavern hall. The tavern was empty, and the only sound was from them walking on the wooden planks to leave. It was early morning, and no one searched for mead until the evening.

The group made their way out of town. The rain from the night before rested in the pothole where cobbled stones used to be. Birds chirped as the morning sun painted the sky with beautiful shades of pink and orange hues. They soon reached the edge of town where the dirt road wrapped through a meadow. Rabbits bound away from the footpath as birds flew off while they walked by.

Faline, with the map from her uncle in hand, took a deep breath of the fresh air and smiled. "Sunrise is my favorite time of the day. Everything is fresh and ready for the day," she mentioned as she glanced down at the piece of marked parchment. "Looks like we are headed for that treeline on the other side of this meadow, and then we will be on the edge of the woods. We can stop there for a brief rest before continuing in."

Faline was trying her best to offset this odd feeling she had in the pit of her stomach. She felt as if someone was watching them. Besides the random farmer tending to his cows, they hadn't encountered anyone since leaving town. At least, no one that she had seen.

---

The morning was quiet, and he was surprised to see the place empty, the fact that no one was about for the morning, though he figured people were out in fields or doing as they needed to survive for the next day. The town was just as droll, but for the sky, cobbled stones, and rain had their beauty, he saw it differently.

The meadows were almost the same; their natural beauty was something else. He noticed a few puddles; they were just small ponds of life that would be away within a few hours or days. However, he just listened to the birds and thumping of rabbits. The urgency to run was something normal; wildlife was something free, but it had to be afraid to lose the freedom it has or its life.

Torsten looked at those as he followed the pack; he leaned over Faline's shoulder and looked up, then down at the map again as he straightened himself back up. His nostrils slowly lowered as his breath slowed, he rolled his shoulder some as his far hand went up to pull on it, leaving a loud pop before his shoulder rolled forward once again.

"It is a good time of life and enjoyment, and I am glad there are those out here in this world to work and toil in its beauty." he said with a soft demeanor, "But a rest for prayer may work well, to collect and listen to the world around us as those watch from above."

Walking near the rear of the group and a bit to herself, Simbel was observing her companions. Her face, an expressionless mask of ivory, obfuscated the thoughts and feelings simmering inside her - confusion, anxiety, excitement, uncertainty. She had never before travelled in a group such as this, even among her sisters in the coven. The witches o' the woods were seldom seen more than two at a time, apart from when they gathered in worship of the Wilder. Simbel was used to being alone, or in the company of Mother. She expected struggle and possibly conflict in the coming days, but was surprised to feel something pleasant as well. It felt good to belong, to be doing something together, even if it was with people that were strange to her. Perhaps Mothers relation to the mentors of these strangers lent her a sense of security - if Mother trusted them, Simbel could, too.

But they were strange to her. The large man, a soldier or priest of sorts, made her wary. She did not like soldiers, or armies, or wars. Those were the darkest evils of civilization, Mother had said, and the stories she had told Simbel about those things had chilled her to the bone. The woman with the red eyes invoked similar feelings in Simbel, but they stemmed from a lack of knowledge of, rather than an opinion on, her vocation. She looked like a lamb, but had the gaze of a wolf. The elvian woman, their supposed leader, Simbel was undecided on. She felt there was more to her than what was visible on the surface, but not in a malignant way. The finely dressed, jittery woman was, as far as Simbel could tell, no threat. Her heart appeared to the young witch to be burdened by fear and indeciciveness. She might even need looking after, once they were in the wild proper.

Simbel yielded a small smile at that thought. She would soon be back where she belonged, far away from chimneys and smoke and streets and walls. The woods awaited her, with their sublime scents and whispering winds. To tread moss again, to climb stock and stone, filled her heart with joy. The wild was truly her home. She looked at the meek woman, meeting her eye. The woods are beautiful at night, she said, hoping to share her joy but knowing how to properly convey it in the tone of her voice, When the full moon shines, and you hear the wolves howling in the dark as they prepare for their hunt. Simbel realized her face had remained expressionless as she spoke, so she quickly added a small smile, although her eyes remained unblinking. Wether it had the effect she had intended, she could not say.

Amandine was in a decidedly mischievous mood as she cast a sly glance at Dorothea from behind. The idea of pinching the girl's sides and watching her squirm and shyly wiggle for a moment seemed quite tempting. A wide grin played on her lips as she entertained this thought, but instead of tormenting the wizard, she chose to be more gentle and simply patted her on the back and encouraging her forward. "Time to go on an adventure!" she declared, her tone filled with enthusiasm and a hint of mischief.

Her eyes couldn't help but linger on Simbel's figure, though. The striking and enigmatic shapeshifter was busy gathering belongings left by their predecessors. Amandine found herself oddly drawn to her, as if watching a tantalizing meal that begged to be devoured. She couldn't help but feel the urge to playfully tease the straight-talking Elvian, perhaps as an excuse to get closer to her. However, her attention shifted when she noticed Simbel wielding the ungolianth-stringed hornbow. The alluring Elvian girl now held a very dangerous weapon, and Amandine's irises twitched as she recognized the material, reminiscent of the deep forest and a spider of pure darkness. The web string seemed like a void in the light. A shiver ran down her spine, and she realized she needed to be cautious around this one.

Amandine quickened her pace and moved closer to Torsten, finding a sense of security in the presence of the warrior-brother. As the saying goes, you don't need to be the fastest when running from a bear; you just shouldn't be the slowest. She used this moment of protection to close her eyes briefly as she walked, relying on her other senses to detect anything unfamiliar in their surroundings, especially if something was lurking or following them unseen.

When Torsten mentioned taking a break for prayer, Amandine nodded in agreement, considering it a good opportunity for her to meditate as well. She was also concerned about Dorothea tiring out too quickly and wanted to ensure the wizard had enough energy, especially in case they needed to run from any potential threats like hungry wolves that Simbel appeared to be tormenting the girl with, smiling over toward the pair.

Amandine turned her attention toward Faline, fighting the temptation to repeatedly ask, "Are we there yet?" as she led the way. While looking at Faline, she noticed a small symbol on the new quiver. She leaned in for a closer look, seeing that it was shaped like a bird, and she pointed her finger at it. "The Singing Bird! I've seen this before," she exclaimed with a wide smile, clearly recognizing the human symbol. “It belonged to a great warrior. He was hairy with a beard like a goat, and built like a bear in strength." She playfully flexed her muscles to mimic the warrior's appearance. "It was a symbol of his clan. It's a good symbol," she added, her tone warm and approving.

---

---

Faline smiled softly when Toren spoke of the farmers they passed working the meadows as if the fear of sickness and disease didn't exist. She appreciated his attempt at lighting the load of the awkward silence. Even Simbel joined in, commenting on how comforting the howls of wolves made her feel at home.

Faline walked backward briefly to speak with the gray-skinned woman with an understanding expression. "I lived in the Evergreen Forest with my parents when I was young. There is something about being so intuned with nature that they begin to speak to you," Faline replied to the full Elvian woman before she turned back around.

It was Amandine's comment about the symbol on her quiver that made the redhead pause as a familiar feeling clutched at her heart. She gulped softly as Amandine continued to speak about the one who owned the quiver and bow before her. Tears began to bubble up but Faline shook her head for a moment to clear her thoughts. "Yes, he was a great warrior, indeed." was all she said and let herself fall silent until they got to the edge of the woods.

The morning sunlight hadn't quite reached the area yet. The tall trees still darkened this area of the meadow. This portion of the area seemed a bit more chaotic in a natural way. The variety of wildflowers turned to forest flora sporadically while the meadow's brome grass folded over in waves, indicators that the shepherds didn't graze their animals this far.

Faline was about to suggest that they stop and rest a moment when something didn't feel right. She stopped her stride and then put up her right pointer finger to her mouth. Faline cupped her ear to listen. No birds chirping or rabbits scurrying, just complete silence. She quietly took off the heavier parts of her pack and drew her double daggers.