The ground sloped gently downhill as Ash and Ryke made their way Westwards, the scrub trees and brush thicker in small areas, was easy to move through, and maintain a steady direction. After almost an hour, the two were able to learn a few more things bout their foes. The halfhorses could move much faster than the rest, and there were two of them. There were also ten of them total, though it took about four miles of tracking to figure out that two of them, would stop and move on all fours for hundreds of yards at a time.

A cock crowed in the morning. A  sharp, piercing greeting to the sun's first rays that curved along the oceans far to the East, and lit up the coastline from Okarop to far off Allinor, and beyond. Those same pinkish purple rays crept Westwards, bringing the dawn to the prairie lands and the Elven Forest without prejudice. They swept across the face of the world like a giant broom. Eventually letting that rooster in Issalee Adodynes coop know that it was time for everyone to wake up.

In no time it seemed, the traveling youths had made their way down the trail from the High Pastures back to Ramhorn Ridge. Smoke rose from chimneys in each of the scattered farmhouses, bearing the smell of the various meals being prepared to the odd group of youths and sheep that made their way downhill.

A search of the tents yielded several threadbare blankets, some assorted cooking equipment (also in disrepair), and a single rather smallish chest. The chest was only 3 feet long, and two feet wide, an not even a foot high. It was made of some sort of silvery metal, engraved and inlaid in flowing patterns on all six sides. There was a latch that held it closed, but no lock.

Risos looked up, as the box was brought out of the tent, and tilted his head curiously. "That's what all the fussin' and feudin' was over? It dont seem like much, for their former Master to chase 'em halfway down the Kal'Lorryn."

The sun shone down from amidst a scattering of clouds, giving the town of Lanburg a cheery feel. It was still morning but late enough that the dew had long since dried and the townsfolk were well into their daily errands and rituals. Tannis Merican strolled leisurely down the lane, smiling faintly as he watched the people of Lanburg—his people—go about their lives.

The town was not large, though in truth, other than in stories and tales, Tannis only had Ghal and a few outlying hamlets with which to compare. Still, there was a homey feel to it that warmed the heart. It was nice to walk the streets and realize that one knew nearly everyone, in name if not overly well.

Rivulets of rain trickled down the hillside, through the thick loam of pine needles and last years ferns. The ground was slicked and footing was more than a little treacherous as the weight of the booted feet caused the ground covering to slide over the rain soaked ground. More than once, ground had to be climbed twice, or an arm shot out to grasp a branch to keep from sliding down the hill.

That evening the Plowman's Rest Inn was packed to the rafters. Almost everyone in town had gathered there to hear of the goings on in the world outside of the Four Rivers. The Polarchs (the proprietors) were busily moving back and forth to the kitchen and between the tables, serving up the evenings meal. The smell of the mutton stew and baked apples filled the place, and everywhere there was the incomprehensible murmur of dozens of conversations going on concurrently.

Background Story

Ash Roiden was the bastard child of the drunken whore of Four Rivers. As you can imagine, life for such a git was not an easy one.  Her mother Aimee Rhoiden exploited as much sympathy and charity as she could from the good people of Lanburg, which resulted in her daughter growing up healthy in body if not spirit.