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.

As the youths turned and headed towards the Denellon farmstead, it was apparent that the Widow Denellon had called for more help. A group of men and women, and a few older children was congregated near the gate where the youths had departed the previous night. They were dressed for traveling, cloaks and sturdy boots, walking sticks, and even a boar spear or two gave clues to their purpose, and in the middle of the throng, the Widow Denellon stood, looking very tired, and far older than she should.

"MAAAA!!!" Risos yelled. His eyes lighting like a firework had gone off behind them, when he saw his mother. Like a crack of lightning the young shepherd tore off towards the throng, the shrill voice of pre adolescent youth cutting through the morning air. "Ma!!!"

The widow's head came up like a shot, finding the source of the familiar cry. Her eyes, that she had thought to be cried dry, broke loose in tears again, this time, tears of joy, and relief. She forced her way through the dozen or so neighbors who had gathered to join the search, and bearing Raysa as if she weighed nothing, she ran to her son.

  Risos' speed, and the Widow's determination, turned the distance between them into nothing, in short order, and the red headed woman dropped to her knees, her arms wrapping both her children, as if to hold them safe and warm forever. "Risos........Risos...." there was more she wanted to say..... but it was plain words would not come.

Harrod watch the scene play out before him as mother and son were reunited. The world slowly began to fade from his vision as his mind turned inward, and his heart turned out. Mind and heart melded until they were one. The one then felt the Presence. The Source. The Creator. Harrod didn't know it at that time, but this was a beginning for him. He took his first steps along the path that would shape the rest of his life. Anyone watching him that moment might have thought they saw a glow, a spark within, seep out and surround the boy as a peaceful look became his countenance. It faded, but his determination never would.

"Blessed be the Creator," he whispered softly as he watched true joy before him.

"Indeed," Ryke muttered, a smile unconscious on his lips. He wasn't homesick--he'd only been away a handful of days, after all--but he had a sudden urge to see his family again. He shuffled his feet near the back of the group, feeling both anxious and a bit intrusive at the tearful reunion. It wasn't his time yet, is all. He'd set off for to explore the lands and had stumbled upon friends who'd already taken those first mighty steps. He had an urge to run back out into the world, to find his own adventure. To fully be a part of just such a triumphant return. Although, to be honest, the gathering was a bit curious.

Lucas, whose smile was widening into an abashed grin, scratched the back of his head and glanced across as his compatriots.  Watching the young boy's return to his worried mother warmed him and pushed the grizzly memory of last night's battle deeper into the distance.  Sometimes it was true, as his oldest brother often said; the ends did justify the means.

Marissa's cinnamon-brown eyes filled with tears as she watched the scene.  There was nothing she could do or say -- nothing she wanted to do or say -- to interrupt this moment or make it better.  For her, it didn't push the night prior to the back of her memory, it made the memory worth having.  Explanations would wait until Risos and his mother were finished with their reunion.

Garrick's big heart just melted in his chest. He hadn't known his own mother, and right then he wished that he had more than ever. That instant of longing pain to know a mothers love for her son, was quickly replaced by a growing sense of pride. Pride in his friends, and even himself, that they had actually gone and rescued the boy from a band of Orck-kind. It hadn't really sunk in for him till that moment, that was exactly what they had done. Oran clapped Garrick on his broad shoulder, smiling as he watched the reunion.

While the others were filled with all things good and kind--the miracles of the creator and love, pride at a job well done and a growing sense of belonging--the town rogue was acutely aware of the rumbling in her tummy.  Ash vaulted over the Widow's fence instead of walking through the open gate and grinned broadly at the towns folk.  "I hope ya left some food fer me. I'm hungry."  She continued past the teary eyed greeting and added as an afterthought.  "Where y'all off ta, anyways?"

The crowd of onlookers busted out into cheers, and smiles and laughter replaced looks of grim determination. Some of them went to The Widow and her children, others went to speak with the youths who had brought one of their own home.

Cledd Thorntun turned to Ash, and spoke first. A short man who had trouble keeping track of his teeth, it gave his speech a funny aspect. "We wash comin to look phor you, Ash!" He said. "When you all didn't come back with Rishosh, we figgered wash about time to come and fetsch ya."

The widow looked up, tears streaking over cheeks, her smile and laughter unstained by them. "Thank you all so much! Where was he?" Looking at her son, she tried to conjure a stern face. "Where were you? I was worried sick!"

The soft smile faded from Marissa's face.  "He wasn't hiding or had gotten lost, ma'am," she said quietly.  Though she didn't raise her voice, something in the tone and timbre of it made people pause and listen.  "There were a couple of groups of Orck-kin up there.  Small little guys, about this high," she continued, placing her hand somewhere between her belly button and the bottom of her breasts.  "But fierce.  One group wanted to use him as ransom to be allowed free passage and food.  The other group... didn't think that way," she said with a shrug.  "They fought among themselves before we got involved."

"I snuck in and untied him."  Ash volunteered triumphantly.  "And we brought back some stuff!"  She fished in her pockets and brought forth a small handful of coins for the Widow.

"She did! They did! It's true ma! They.... they 'et Thoar.... but Marissa Wolvender herself come and saved me!" He said, wide eyed, and pointing at Marissa. "That's *the* Marissa Wolvender, Ma"  he added in a whisper, as if sharing a secret.

The young woman's cheeks flushed with color.  This time, though the flush was accompanied by a wry little smile.  She thought people were making far too much of the incident with her family and the wolves.  She had just been doing what needed to be done is all.  Just like last night.  She didn't think people would see it that way, especially once word of this newest escapade reached everyone else.  And it would, she knew.  "I did have a lot of help," she said, gesturing to her friends.  "Couldn't have done it on my own."

While Risos tried to explain, the crowd of onlookers gasped, at the mention of Orck-kind, so near their homes. They looked at each other, at Marissa and Risos, and Ash with her pockets full of coin.

"That can't be right! Aint no Orck kind round here!" Someone in the back said, incredulously, which set off a ripple of nods through the Ramhorners.

"Was too!"  Ash shot back.  "We kin take you to their stinkin' gross bodies if ya want us too!"  Then she had an idea.  "Or!  Ya kin look in Garrick's cart, see the weapons and things we salvaged.  And the book!  Harrod's got it.  Right Harrod?"

Harrod was not too happy about the sudden outbursts of findings and orcks. He had wanted to get with the Rector before speaking to anyone else about what they discovered. Ash, unfortunately, was not good at subtlety it would seem, and she could resist  being drawn into the challenge. He flashed Marissa a look and whispered something to the effect that a muzzle for Ash might be a good idea.

Lucas smacked his forehead at the mention of the book, wishing along the same lines.  If going on about roving orks wasn't bad enough, she had to spill about the magic book.

"We sure wouldn't have found all this stuff just lying around on the mountain," Marissa drawled.  She raised russet-colored eyebrows in the nay-sayer's direction.  "And we sure didn't just up and murder a bunch of soldiers or something."

"Good people of the Ridge," the young priest began. He stepped forward and his voice and mannerism took on more of the air of the Rector Schenwar than of a young boy. "While Ash speaks the truth about our discoveries, there is no need for wild hazards of guessing or panic this day. We needs all remain calm until this can be sorted proper by the council and the elders. What IS important," he continued, "is that mother and son, once cleaved, are reunited. You should rejoice and be happy for them today. Tomorrow and its worries will come soon enough."

Several things began to happen at once, as was too common at times when news was reaching a group in a mix matched fashion. The Widow Denellon's  ears clamped onto the bit of information that seemed most important to her, turning to Risos with her eyes wide. "They ate Thoar?"

As Risos nodded and began to tell the tale to his mommy, Cledd Thorrntun reacted to the news of discoveries, and enemies, and the oration of Harrod. "I don't see no one panicking, youngun." He started, stepping forward with his walking stave supporting his arthritic knee. "You are good at the speechifyin', though. If there'sh Orck-kind in the high pashturesh, we need to go and shee fer ourselfsh." He looked around at the gathered, and added. "Lets find out where they wash, then go and have a look-shee."

"Um," Ryke shuffled to the side, the better to be seen. "I suppose I can lead you up there," he said hesitantly, "But I'm not sure it's a good idea. A bunch of folks is easy to spot, easy to run from and..." he paused, looked around. "Easy to ambush. Especially if not everyone knows what they're doing, or what to look for" His hand rested on the hilt of his knife, one finger tapping. "Maybe we can go back up and check it out instead, leave the rest of you to...uh...guard the town."

Truthfully Ryke didn't relish the idea of townsfolk tramping through the rough country, but he also didn't like the idea of the older townsmen taking over. If there was to be any chance at adventure then he--they; the group, that was--would have to find their own way, without the adult supervision they'd enjoyed all their lives thus far. This was their time to shine.

At the mention of the weapons and armor in the cart, Jar Thedden, one of the Wardens hunting pals moved to the cart, and began pushing at the weapons, and picking them up to have a look. "The armor could have come from anythin." He half mumbled to himself. "Those crossbow bolts, though... they are definitely Orck-make. You should take this whole pile down to Jordan Quopol." When he looked up and saw Garrick standing there he concluded, "Your paw knows more about Orck-kind and their weapons than anyone in the whole Four Rivers."

Still others (the majority by far) latched onto a thread that captured their imaginations. Beginning to crowd round Marissa, and clap her on the shoulders, snippets of conversations raining down around her. "Thats Marissa Wolvender." and "I seen her toss an anvil further than that Guss Rakerock, from Ghal in the last festival." were but two that she caught, as the Ramhorners clustered around her all talking at once.

Some part of her relished the attention the Ramhorners.  It was something Marissa had craved a lot of her life.  On the other hand, she knew she had a lot of help and felt they weren't giving her friends their due.  Still, with cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and pleasure, she allowed them to focus on her for a bit, giving vague answers, nods and smiles where she could.  If nothing else, it allowed her friends to gather their own wits.

Garrick looked around as the murmuring of the gathering turned into something more obtrusive. His eyes lit on Jar and he stepped a little closer, raising his voice to be heard. "Why would my Da know anything about Orc-kind?" He asked, looking to Ash, and Marissa, to see if they had caught that, since they both knew his Da well. "He's a blacksmith, not a weaponsmith."

Ash's eyes lit up with mischief as she grinned over at Ryke.  "Probably fer the same reason he was so friendly with an elf.  Ya know the answer ta that one?  Where'd he live before he came ta Four Rivers?"  She directed the question to Garrick, the twinkle never leaving her eyes.

"He was born here. All I really know is he left for awhile, and came back with me." Garrick said shrugging broad shoulders.

Jar Thedden looked up puzzled. "I was a boy with yer Paw. You mean he ain't never told you the stories about his travels?"

"Adventures?"  Ash asked, her voice keen with interest.

Marissa broke away from her 'admirers' to stand once more with her friends.  "Could be they were too hurtful to talk about?" she asked with a shrug.  "'Course it could be you never asked, Garrick," she grinned.  "You can be more stubborn than a mule, sometimes.  All you seem to hear out of your Da is what work needs doin'.  Maybe there's a reason for that?  When we get back to town, we should ask him, for sure."

"For sure!"  Ash echoed.  "...or, Jar could tell us.  Jar?"

Jar Thedden looked up from the pile of stuff in the cart. "HM? What? Me? Nooo."  He snatched the raggedy hat off his head, and scratched at his scalp. "If Jordan ain't told the boy anythin, he's got his reasons fer that. Whether or not I agree with em, it ain't my place to come between a man and his son."

"Now seems to me, that Harrod over there is right." He continued changing the subject rather blatantly. "But, so is Cledd. We got things kinda backward though. Cledd's got that bum knee, and a nice big buckboard wagon, I got an old mule, and two good legs. I'll go and have a look-see up in the High Pastures, and he can have ya'll back ta town before sundown."

Ash glanced over at Harrod and then Cledd, noticing for the first time that the priest's ward seemed more sullen than usual.  She shrugged her shoulders, unsure of what she'd done this time to upset him.  She didn't know him all that well and this brief trip with him went a long way to explain why, their differences were significant, but underneath it all they both really cared for the town and the people in it.  Whether that was enough to keep them from strangling each other was up for debate.

"You're going back up there!?" Lucas blurted out unexpectedly, eyes wide.  He shied back when heads turned and covered his mouth with one hand.

Eyes turned to Lucas, conversations quieted, as if someone had lit a torch over his head suddenly on a moonless night. Jar nodded, a curious look in his eye. "We are four rivers folk, we gotta see for ourselves." He said.

"Beshidesh." Cledd Thorntunn chipped in. "We gotta know if there'sh anymore of  'em up there."

"Might'n not be safe."  Ash said nodding towards Ryke.  "Ryke, he found some tracks around our camp last night.  For what it's worth."  She shrugged nonchalantly and rubbed her stomach.  "I'm gonna need ta eat somethin for I kin go back up there, and there's no way I kin let you go up there by yerself.  Warden would skin me."

Jar Thedden's eyes swung back to Ash, and something about the slip of  a girl wanting to protect him made him laugh. "I ain't a-goin alone, girl. If I know the Warden, an I do, then he's gonna wanna hear what happened outta your mouth girl. Nope. You head back ta town, tell em whats going on up here."

Ash's eyes narrowed at that, trying to decide if she should take his words as a challenge or not.  Before she could decide, her buddy Ryke chimed in.

"Then maybe you should wait for that," Ryke offered. "I mean, before you go we should see what the Warden says." He looked from face to face, finally settling on Jar. "Shouldn't we?"

The big hunter looked at the youths, and nodded. It was plain that whatever they had fought, had them plenty scared, even if they didn't want to show it. "Alright Ryke Blackwood. We will wait a spell, and make a trip round th ridge, jest ta make sure nothing is  near the farms. If'n ya'll are heading back ta Lanburg, Cledd'll take ya. The Creator knows, that there aint no tellin four rivers folk what to do, or not do."

"But I'm hungry."  Ash said in a sullen voice.  "I'll give a pocket full o coins for a jam sammich.  Surely the sweet Widow wouldn't want us to starve on our way back ta see the Warden."  She put on her most sincere puppy dog eyes and orphan face, one that she'd spent a life time to cultivate as she looked pleadingly towards Risos and his mother.

At that, The Widow Denellon reappeared with Risos clutched to her hip, despite his struggling. "Cledd... Jar. You ought be ashamed of yourselves. These young men and women risked life and limb, and spent a cold and rain soaked night in the shepherds bough. Heroes each and every one. If the only reward they want is lunch, then lunch they get. Instead of hustling them off, you should offer them a ride, when they are ready."

Stopping to take a breath, Cledd and Jar looked at the ground, and at each other, then opened there mouth to speak, only to be cut off with a sharp. "They ain't children." said in the Widow's best voice for the occasion. Turning back towards her son's saviors, that voice disappeared.

"Thank you all. Thank you all so much. Y'all come to the house, Ive got a hot lunch about an hour from the table. Come on now, clean up, and rest, and fill your bellies, there'll be time enough for news and books and Elders.  We can dry them clothes, too."

Marissa, a short breath from sending a sharp rebuke toward Ash, sighed and nodded.  She was hungry and tired herself, but wasn't going to whine and complain about it, and Ash whining about food stood on her last nerve.  The Widow's offer deflated her temper.  "Thank you, ma'am," she said and smiled at the woman.  "I know I'm grateful for your generosity and hospitality."

Lucas, who found his own stomach grumbling as well, nodded his appreciation as well and smiled meekly. 

The Widow simply smiled, a genuine motherly smile. "It's the least I can do. Really."

Ryke had moved close to Oran. He leaned in to whisper. "I feel like a dolt," he said in hushed tones, giving voice to the unease he'd felt since they'd arrived in town. "Practically a hero's welcome for everyone and I haven't done anything."

Oran smiled, and clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, Ryke." He said, guiding his friend by the shoulder. "The Widow is an excellent cook."

Ryke followed the others with an almost shy smile.

So the congregation of would be searchers began to unassemble, as the rescuers and the Denellon family made their way through the gate in the old fence, and back to the Denellon farmhouse. Even before the Widow had her guests on the back porch, she was telling Risos to start water for baths for all of them, and get out the good towels. Oh. And to ready the clothes racks around the fireplace to dry their clothes... and a half a hundred other things. It was plain that Risos couldn't tell what he was supposed to do, and what she was only reminding herself needed doing.

Stopping suddenly as if catching herself in a bad habit, she pulled open the outer door of the porch, and smiled as she waved her guests inside. "I hope y'all like tater soup, and breadcrusts with cheese."

"Sounds great!"  Ash piped up as she shouldered past Garrick and Ryke to get into the door.  "Girls first!"  She exclaimed.  The only time it suited her to claim that she was female was when her place in line could be improved.

Garrick laughed, and watched Ash bolt through the door. She had always been able to beat him to the food, he didn't even contest it now. But there was something he could contest. He reached over the Widow's shoulders, and placed a big hand on the door.

"My pa'd beat me if I let you hold the door for me, Ma'am." he said quietly. The widow nodded and followed Ash and Marissa into the house with a smile for the big blacksmiths son.

Harrod quietly followed the rest of the group into the widow's home. He made sure he kept the satchel with the book in it close to him at all times.

The apprentice mage spied Harrod entering the house before him and his eyes were drawn to the satchel.  Thoughts of the strange book sprang into his head and he grew instantly lustful for it.  Bitterly he shook his head clear and averted his eyes, looking embarrassed, and tried to think of other things, like soup and bread and cheese and friends.

The young priest softly padded to a corner of the room and sat upon the floor. He carefully pulled the satchel in front of him and settled it onto his lap and the gap where his crossed legs were. Gently, he unbound the thongs that held the satchel closed and he ran his fingers along the spine of the book before he reverently removed it from the container.
.
Harrod caught the young mage's intense gaze and motioned for him to join the priest so they could peruse the book together.

Ryke simply waited just inside the door, letting the others settle before choosing a place of his own. He did, however, make a point of wiping his feet. His ma didn't raise a complete bumpkin, after all.

Once inside the Denellon house again, the smell of potato soup, warm and pleasantly spiced filled the noses of the youths and sent their stomachs to rumbling in earnest. Risos hurried to start heating water for washing, and the Widow let Raysa to the floor, as she began to prepare for lunch. Bowls and spoons, butter and jam all appeared on the table, bread was sliced, still warm, and apple cider and mugs were set out as well.

"Help yourselves, if you want something now," she began. "I can warm the cider, and we have lots more food." 

As the two older Denellons busied themselves with hospitality, Raysa toddled over to where Harrod and Lucas sat huddled with the ancient book. She looked down at the book,  then up at the young men with a bright smile that reached her brilliant green eyes. "Ead it?" She asked, as she slid into Lucas' lap under the book.

"Ead-a-book" She said.

Lucas shot Harrod an anxious look and stammered out, "I don't think... that's a good idea..."

Harrod looked up and smiled gently. None of his companions had ever seen this soft of an expression on his face, and the young priest's eyes brightened.

"I'd be glad to," he told the young girl. Harrod looked at Lucas.

"Why don't you think it's a good idea?" he asked the mage.

Lucas made a face, an awkward look, and replied conspiratorially behind one hand.  "M-A-G-I-C."  He then gave a curt shake of his head.

"It will be fine, Lucas," Harrod replied. "These are the words about the Creator. I do not fear any harm could possibly come from sharing these words."

Ryke was more than a little curious about the book. He'd only heard the book mentioned, and that was briefly and in passing, as if it was a topic for another time. Now that it was out in the open he was curious as to why all the concern.

Harrod moved the book and Raysa settled in it's place in the young priest's lap. He flipped the pages to the beginning of the book and began to re-tell the story of the creator that they had first encountered. He changed his voice throughout and did his best to bring it the words to life for her, yet he was mindful of not making the story too terrifying.

Raysa sat enraptured at the storytelling, nodding and smiling along sometimes, at others cringing back, caught up in the shifting moods of the work, and the matching timbre of Harrod's voice. When he finished, she looked up at him with a smile so bright it was impossible not to smile back, and said , "Ead it aginn?"

"Of course, I will, bobbin'" he replied with a smile. The priest began the story again with the same enthusiasm as before. He held the girl as if she was the little sister he never had.Raysa smiled and settled in, nodding along with the story.

Meanwhile, Risos had water on to boil, and gravitated towards Marissa. "Marissa?" He said, almost as if he didn't want to bother her.

The tall young woman turned to Risos with a smile.  It was a little tired, that smile, but it was genuine.  "Yeah, Risos?" she asked, already unplaiting her hair so she could wash it when the bath water was ready.

Big brown eyes looked up at Marissa, and the boy bit his lower lip as if he plainly hadn't thought this conversation out. His eyes brightened as a reply occured to him. "You wanna see my room?"

Marissa's smile never wavered.  She tilted her head slightly to regard the boy... well young man, really.  It dawned on her that here was someone who well and truly saw her as a Hero.  Someone who would likely think that way all their life.  Most of the others would forget in time, if she left the area, but she saw the light of awe in Risos' eyes and it both disconcerted and humbled her.

"Sure.  I guess we got some time before the water's hot enough for a bath," she said with a nod. A look of surprised satisfaction crossed the boys  face, and he snatched Marissa by the wrist, pulling her towards the steps. "Come on, come on, its this way." He said, as he began climbing the narrow steps, which wound around a corner, to the upper floor of the farmhouse. Two narrow rooms and a hallway were the entirety of the floor, and Risos' room apparently lay to the right.

The lad's room was a study in the difficult position he lived. In a corner near the window, a very old saddle sat on a stand. Years and years of hard use showed in the leather, as did the obvious efforts to repair and restore it. Leather working tools still in their roll sat nearby, as did a jar of saddle soap. His bed was made, though not as neatly as his mother would have liked, and the wall opposite the window bore a shelf, which held dozens and dozens of wood carvings, surprisingly good ones. Animals and swords, dragons and shields. Horses, houses... even a castle... all with a level of detail none would have expected to see from a 12 year old.

"That was my Da's saddle." He said, pointing to the corner. "I found it out in the barn, with his leather punches. I figger if I can shine it up some, it might fetch a nice penny at the festivals."

"It might be worth something, yeah," Marissa agreed.  "Did you do those carvings up there on the window?" she asked, sincerely interested.  "They're really good, Risos.  Almost better than some I've seen at the festivals." Risos nodded that he had, and looked at the shelf full of carvings.  "All shepherds whittle. Lots of time" He replied.

"The best ones are in my moms room." His eyes centered on a crenellated tower carved from oak. Each joint of stone and mortar, several grated windows, even planks of wood lined into its flat top had been carved in detail. "Here.  I want you to have this one." He lifted the tower in the palm of his hand and held it out for her. "As a thanks."

Marissa blinked at Risos for the span of two heartbeats.  Gingerly, she reached out and took the tower, smiling in appreciation.  "Thanks, Risos.  This is really special."  Privately, Marissa knew she didn't need a gift or money as thanks.  Seeing Risos home safe was good enough, but she was pragmatic enough to accept the gestures of thanks both Risos and his mother offered.   It felt good to be able to help in this way, which set her mind to turning over her future for the first time in a while.

With the quiet background from the story of the Creator, Ash took to helping in the kitchen.  Or, more to the point, helping herself to what was in the kitchen.  She scooped up a piece of warm bread and lathered it in sweet cream as she plopped into a chair.  "By the Creator, Ma'am, this is mighty fine.  Thank ya." The Widow smiled over her shoulder at the girl, and poured a mug full of warm cider, setting it in front of Ash.

"No... thank you. Risos said there were a lot of those little goblin things." She said quietly. "I'd never have expected you all to try to rescue him from something like that. You're only a few years older than he is."

"Well...Ma'am."  Ash lead in bluntly.  "He needed savin'.  They were fightin' over who gotta eat him.  Garrick and Marrissa are right good with their weapons, and that Lucas boy...he's a weird 'un, but I kid ya not, he shot magic right outta his fingers. 'Sides, them ugly things did most of the killin' for us.  They didn't seem to like each other any better than we liked them."

"Still and all.... it was very brave." She smiled. "I think Warden Feltzens has done a fine job raising you up."

Ryke leaned toward Garrick and whispered, "He's good at this," nodding toward Harrod. "He could be a priest for certain."

Garrick grinned, and skinned out of his shirt, tossing it over one of the thin dowel racks that Risos had erected in front of the fireplace. "He sounds just like the Rector." Garrick replied quietly. "Not an altogether bad thing..." he added, absently rubbing his thigh through the hole the camper's spear had left in his trousers. ".... but that soup smells awesome, and I want to be clean when I eat."

Ash's eyes narrowed in irritation as Garrick strung up his wet shirt.  It just wasn't fair, she'd be skinned if she tried that, she knew that from experience.  "Showoff."

Harrod finished telling the story to the girl for the second time. "Alright, bobbin'," he said. "Best you go to your mu'um and help her in the kitchen now, little one."

With a kiss on the forehead and a gentle pat he sent her on her way and rose to meet up with those that he had traveled with these last few days. He could use a cleaning himself, he noted, and proceeded to wash some of the dirt and grime away.

Hot water, hot food, and hot cider turned out to be a tonic for the youths. A few days of road grime, one night of pine needle bedding, and 4 minutes of fighting with Orck-kind had left a layer of filth on each of them. One at a time, they filed through the wash room, and one at a time, they made their way around the Widow's fine table.

Thick potato soup, creamy and rich, warmed them from the insides, and the smell of fresh bread went a long way to restore spirit and verve. Soon enough, it was time to go, and Risos was sent to get the toothless Cledd Thorntun, and his trusty buckboard wagon.

It was a minor matter,  loading Jordan Quopol's handcart into the back of the buckboard, and there was plenty of room in the back for everyone. Good byes were said, and the Widow in particular, was reluctant to see them go. The ride down hill was going to be much more leisurely than the walk uphill had been, and before even the sun began to sink behind the mountains, they were passing The Head Stone.