A day of rest came and went. Another misty morning descended into the valley, the sun not yet risen over the peaks. Lydie, her eagerness for adventure having disrupted her usual mode of sleeping in, arrived at the stables before anyone else. The party was to meet for a briefing after everyone ate breakfast and tacked up their mounts, but she opted for lighter fare while the others were having their meal. She adjusted her horse’s bridle, tearing with her teeth through a salty piece of dried venison. Through her jaw-aching chews, she sang a bawdy tune, not a single note on key.

  “Ol’ randy King Bastard,

  Athirst for a lover,

  Caught eyes for Queen Marnie,

  Aye, yea, his own mother!

  His sister caught wind,

  Which ruffled her feathers—” Lydie dropped the piece of meat, and at the same moment, the horse lifted its hoof – then stomped it into the ground.

  Wasn’t hungry anyway, she thought, an overstretched sneer holding back a fit of cursing as she slipped the bit into the creature’s mouth. She pushed her anger into her song instead, her voice rumbling over the otherwise peaceful dawn.

  “An’ King Bastard said,

  ‘Let’s all lump together!’

  What a family were they,

  Three pigs in a bed,

  All bloated and blemished,

  No teeth in their hea—"

  A door swung open, slamming into the wall on the outside. The stablemaster, a disheveled old man with wild hair that grew in a half-ring around his head, came out brandishing a dusty broom.

  “Gods cursed ye with the gabble-pipes of a haggard walrus!” the stablemaster shouted, spitting fiercely on the ground. “Cease your hideous wailing, or get your beast and go. People will think harpies are takin’ up nest here.”

  Lydie felt a spark at her fingertips, but it fizzled out into smoke. She took control of her breath, striking down every foul word she wanted to say. Rightful as she thought her anger to be, she found herself daunted by the newfound consequences of leaving it unchecked.

  “Of course,” she said through her teeth, straining a smile, “Pardon me.”

  “What’s all this shouting?” Anna asked as she came to the crest of the sloping trail. She placed her hands on her hips, stopping beside Lydie. The rest trailed behind her, crossing into the open from the thicket below; Ardmy walked backwards with hands waving about as he told a story to the three other males and Jessa. They all stopped, too, when Deventh nudged his chin in the direction of the frazzled stablemaster.

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  “This one’s yours?” the old man asked.

  “That depends,” Anna said, narrowing her eyes at Lydie, “What did she do?”

  “Nothin’, ‘cept standing out here moaning like a banshee. If ya know how to keep her mouth shut, I suggest ya do."

  “We will keep watch over her,” Anna assured. “I’m sure she’s just excited this morning. Right, Lydie?”

  “A-aye.”

  The old man loosened his grip on his broom. The handle slid down, landing in the dirt with a light thud.

  “Right,” he said, nodding to Anna. “Trust we won’t need to have this conversation again.”

  The stablemaster hobbled away, and Lydie’s fingers tingled again. She gave a light tug on her horse’s lead and wandered to a secluded spot among the trees to stay out of the way while the others readied themselves.

  Anna sighed, relieved that the spectacle did not escalate, and began tending to her own horse. Unlike the others, who had acquired various standard Nelthrin breeds, she chose a Thrundaran Snow – one of the few that were able to carry her weight with ease. A rare find so far away from her ancestral home, as well. The white mare looked to be purebred, imported, but with her malformed eye, she would have been prime for culling. The deformity seemed to have little impact on performance – though Anna did learn her lesson earlier on about approaching the animal from the wrong side.

  “Perhaps we should meet elsewhere for our briefing,” Tatsidi suggested. “For the sake of the old man, and for having a stable to use upon our return.” All agreed to his suggestion, and when ready, they took a short trek down the slope and back through the thicket, stopping once they’d reached the spot where the road intersected with the path to the tavern.

  “Right, looks like everyone is here,” said Anna, planting her heels in the ground and turning to face the group. She spoke for a time, delivering what was mostly a reiteration of their pre-established plans. More immediate planning came into question once she was through reciting every detail. “Today, we’ll make the stretch through Raven Gate and cover as much distance as we can through the Ravengarde forests. We’ll likely need to camp for a night before we reach Ravengarde City, but that should be no trouble. For now, there’s not much else to—”

  Three approaching figures interrupted her thought. Al’mar’s arm emerged from the folds of his cloak to stretch overhead while Hela and Dirien followed hand-in-hand.

  “Are we interrupting?” asked the Mezthrin, his smile seeking answers.

  “It is probably best that you have,” said Anna, “I know I tend to be enthusiastic about details, but I can at least tell when eyes are glazing over. Are the three of you off now for your contract as well?”

  “That we are,” said Al’mar, “Lucia’s watching over things, since it seems everyone else is out on business!”

  “Lucia?” Jessa asked. “You mean—”

  “The madam,” Helaneth piped up. “She’s one of us, too. Ain’t we just brimming with surprises?”

  “What about the tavern owner? Is he in the guild, too?”

  “Nay, he’s just a prick. Anna and Deventh don’t get on well with pricks.”

  “That we don’t,” Anna affirmed. “Now, does anyone need anything before we all part ways?”

  All exchanged silent glances for a bit, some shaking their heads. Anna lifted her foot into a stirrup, starting the motion for everyone to move out. “Very well. Safe travels, then, you three.”

  “Likewise,” said Al’mar, “No, double to you. Your journey is to be much longer and more challenging than ours.”

  “But they are of equal significance,” Anna reminded him, “Thank you, Al’mar. I do hope the Ravendale wilderness is kind to us as well.”

  Deventh bowed his head, bidding farewell and thanks to the three. He turned his head towards the mountain peaks, light streaking across his mask as he slid it up to cover his face. Jessa lowered her head, avoiding his calculative stare that penetrated even the cold, unfeeling metal as he leveled his chin. Adjusting his grip on the reins, he faced forward and followed the group. But Jessa hung back, stuck in a hopeless stupor as if glued to the ground – as if her body wanted to rebel against the winds of change, just this once. She knew well, though, that she had no choice but to push forward.