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.

Approximately two years ago game time. At the time of this story, Ash is 14 and Garrick is 18.

Ash was certain the whole world was plotting against her. The Creator decided to make it rain for the third day in a row, and she was so bored that she quite certainly thought she was going to die. The woods taunted her, come and play with me, climb my branches and see into the far reaches that you yearn to discover, but they never held the same appeal on drab days like this.