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."

Harrod wasn't sure what to make of the items they had discovered. "Master Schenwar," he began, "might know what this is. He traveled a bit around the lands before he settled in the valley. Perhaps we should take it back to him to look over?"

"Well it's not locked..." Lucas pointed out with a gesture.  "We could... maybe have a look?"

Marissa looked up from where she and Garrick had started a discussion about the quality of the equipment.  "I dunno, Lucas," she said.  A thoughful frown creased her brow as she regarded the box.  "What if it's rigged to blow up or something.  Might be magicked shut or trapped.   I mean, if it was all that important, you'd think they'd protect it some way or another, right?"

Ash looked over at Garrick and Marissa as she chewed on her bottom lip.  She tilted the chest towards her and gave it a good look, figuring that if it was magically shut it wouldn't open, she gave the latch a quick flip and tried to pull it open.  "Only one way ta find out."

Garrick looked over, and scratched his head as he rose to stand right beside Ash. "Crack 'er open, Ash. Maybe there's a Ham Sammich or somethin in there!"

Harrod said a quick and silent prayer to the Creator asking it to once again watch over the young group. He then stood near to Ash in case anything untoward befell the girl. He readied himself to heal her if need be.

With one eye open and one eye shut, Ash lifted the lid to the chest.

The group of youths stood round as Ash popped the lid on the box. The rain had slackened some, since the fight, but its cold rivulets ran down each of their faces as they gawked in surprise as the box opened in an unexpected place, and was accompanied by the sound of rushing air, as if a vacuum had been broken. The box opened halfway down the upright ends, and hinged open on the left side. Inside, more sheaves of paper that any of the youths had ever seen, were bound to the hinged side of the box, it was no box at all, it was a book.

Lucas craned his neck.  His eyes widened with rapt fascination and he took a short gasp which was stifled immediately by his own hand.  He edged slightly closer to the rogue to try and glimpse the text.

Ash's jaw went slack with surprise as the realization hit her, and she suddenly became very uncomfortable to be in the possession of such a large tome. As the first instinct to cover the pages kicked in, it was apparent that the sheafs were in no need of shielding from the elements. Rain drops hit them, and beaded quickly, sliding off them and leaving dry paper behind.

"I can't..."  Ash's words trailed off before she completed the thought.  The words that she knew she shouldn't be able to read, were somehow unfolding in front of her.  Her mouth was suddenly dry as the first page of the book, revealed itself in flowing script:

In the beginning, there was only the Will of the Creator. It was whole and pure, but solitary, and alone. With a wave of his hand, The Creator brought forth the heavens and the earth made from his will. The rocks and the seas formed first, and in this time, the earth was barren.

The Creator admired the beautiful dance of the seas and currents, and a smile crossed his face. From the joy and light of his smile, the plants sprang to being, sprouted and flourished, and filled the seas. As an artist works in paints and stone, the Creator built upon the foundations he had laid. Flowers and trees, grasses and vines colored the canvas of the earth. The beasts followed, with the ability to move about freely, to eat of the plants, and each other, and thusly fertilize the plants.

But soon, The Creator realized the futility of creating art that no one would ever look upon. And so, he furrowed his brow, and bent his will to this problem, and the elves were conceived. But unlike the rocks and the seas and the plants, the elves were meant to appreciate what He had wrought, and they were to be nurtured, and grown slowly over time. They coalesced, over eons, their free will, their thought, their ability to appreciate, to choose between right and wrong forming into consciousness.

The Creator understood what he was risking... the perfect love that was his art would become wild, and unpredictable, but appreciated. With the introduction of other wills into what the Creator had wrought, even in their infancy, other energies began to form, from the darker sides of their natures. The ability to not like the art of Creation, the ability to choose the wrong things.

So it was that the seed of Morgonth was planted into Creation. Subtly at first, a pool of dark power and energy, and worst of all, will.

Morgonth grew to awareness quickly, before even the elves were aware, and He saw what the Creator had wrought, and he knew that there had to be a minus to the plus. A dark, to the light. It was his will, to grow, and destroy, that spurred him to pervert what the Creator had wrought. So deep in the bowels of the earth, Morgonth set to work, he turned his will to making the Orck-kind. To serve as slaves, and to not appreciate the art of Creation.

Their awarenesses fueled him.... and he began to pervert more and more, creating trolls, and goblins, the more they hated the stronger he became, but his pride betrayed him, and The Creator saw his workings. So, The Creator steeled his will, and the Dwarves were born, of iron and stone, and the hard gemstones of the deep places of the world. They were to contest the perversions of Morgonth, and appreciate the beauty of those parts of creation that never saw the light.

On and on it went, when creation was young and new, until Men and Gnomes, Giants and Centaurs populated the world, and the balance was established. But the two wills pushed in opposite directions, and tensions and wars, betrayals and broken trusts soon threatened to tip the balance. So, in one final touch to his art, The Creator willed that in the darkest hours, when evil threatened to overwhelm his art, a Hero would rise. The Chimera. He would have the ablity to inspire Men, and Dwarves, Elves and Centaurs. To command them and contest the will of Morgonth and his minions, and if he could triumph, the age that followed would flourish and thrive. If he failed, the age that followed would be dark and evil, until he rose again, to triumph or fail.

Harrod glanced over her shoulder. The amazement and wonder that the felt at the words was compounded by the fact that they could understand them. Here, before them, was something ancient. Was it the indestructible book? The questions began to tumble through his normally linearly, logical mind. Where did this come from? Why did they have it? What were they doing with it? 

"We have to get this back to Master Schenwar. This," he continued, "this is something important."

Ash nodded agreeably and tossed the tomb to Harrod, obviously not as appreciative as he was of it's ancient and serious nature.  "Don't know how I read that.  Never got round ta learnin' how ta read."  She shrugged her shoulders and let it go at that.

Harrod caught the tome that Ash tossed to him, and he held it protectively against his chest. He had no idea how the others could not understand the import of what they might have. He did not understand how Ash, a simple girl whose attention flitted as the wrens of spring from thought to another and with seemingly no concern for others was able to understand the words within the text. Rector Schenwar had not truly taught the boy to read and write yet, but the young priest sat down quietly and folded back the cover to look at the writing he knew he should be unable to understand himself.

"Incredible," Lucas cooed softly, his eyes still like saucepans.  He licked his lips with avarice, but kept his thoughts his own.  "We should hurry back," was all he managed to say.

"Yeah, for more reason than to get that book back to town," Marrisa put in, her voice holding her own confusion over why such creatures would have such a book.  "We're all more than soaked through and Risos should get back to his Mom, so she knows he's safe."

Oran stood stalwartly outside the tent, letting the rain wash over him. He brushed the greenish-brown cowl back from his head and looked up, closing his eyes and sighing. The large shafts of rain pinpricked his face and washed some more of the mud off it. It was a little chilly but that's what he needed at the moment. These things, these creatures. Where did they come from? It was a scary thought such horrible things really existed. They weren't just fairy tales told to him at night by his mom. He brushed the water from his beard and eyes but let the cowl stay down. The rain at his feet was dappled with pools of crimson and black, running out of the monstrous mouths and wounds of the little creatures. He made a mental note of their faces, their shape, their tails and claws. Hopefully his uncle could teach him more about them.

Leaning on his staff he surveyed the camp further.  His eyes shifted a bit from the immediate clearing to the bushes and trees beyond. Was this really all their was? he thought. He perked up his senses listening for any other signs of life in the woods about him, ready to react. His mind searched for information...and found nothing. What was that chant? He had seen his uncle do it before. The whole woods seemed to come alive when he had. Trees uprooted themselves, vines lashed out, bushes seemed to grow in size and wrap around everything in their path. That would be a useful thing to do against creatures like this. Not limply swing your staff at the air. He frowned at the gnarled shaft of wood in his hand and pounded it once on the ground. His pitying expression continued as he surveyed the camp for signs of the poor boy's dog's remains and any sign of his sheep. After all they did seem eager to eat "4-legs".

Garrick looked to the rain clouds, unseen in the inky blanket of night, and guessed at the time. "It's gotta be on toward midnight, and we have been on the move all day. I say we take a rest on Ramhorn Ridge."

"Anywheres but here."  Ash agreed.  Her shoulders sagged and her normal pep was nowhere to be found.  "If'n anyone wants some of this stuff, come n git it."  She gestured vaguely to the pile of weapons and armor that littered the rain soaked ground.

"I don't think I want one a them shields." Garrick said. "But that boiled leather jerkin might turn a blade better than my shirt." He leaned over, and grabbed up one of the larger ones, and sniffed at it. "Might need to be boiled again, though."

Harrod stared in wonder as the words at the beginning made sense to him.

"B-b-but, this can't be," the young priest exclaimed aloud. "I can't read. I shouldn't be able to make out these words. This is truly a gift blessed by the spirit of The Creator. Ash can read it. I can read it. Marissa, please come see if the words make sense to you as well."

Marissa strode over and placed a calm hand on Harrod's shoulder.    She looked over the book and nodded slowly.  "Yeah, I can read it," she said.  "I shouldn't really be able to, at least not all the words but I can.  It tells the story of the Creator though.  We should definitely take it to the Rector.  In the morning, though," she said firmly.  Exhaustion showed plainly in her face when the faint light hit it. "We're all tired and soaked through.  Let's take what we want from this stuff and go back to our little camp.  Try and get some rest and take Risos back to his mom in the morning.  Then, head back to town."

Lucas broke his stare from the book for just long enough to toss a slight frown towards the conversation.  It was late, true - but he was anxious to return home.  Especially now.

Garrick glanced around at his friends, with a look of understanding and walked over to look over Harrod's shoulder as well. Wide eyed, he read a few bits of it out loud. "That's magic..."  He said with awe in his voice. "What do you think Lucas?"

"Uh?" Lucas grunted, then: "Oh, it's magic alright."  He wrung his hands together with a nervous smirk.  "Can't be certain about it, but I doubt an artifact like this will be altogether safe in our keeping for long.  We should consider... uhm... a hasty return."

Afterwards, Harrod sought out a suit of chain mail that would fit him. He then searched for a blunt weapon that he was familiar with to use against any foe they might encounter.

Marissa poked through the pile herself, wondering if there was anything remotely suitable for her.  Then, she spied it.  A chain shirt that was larger than the rest.  It needed to be cleaned up a little, but it should fit well enough.  And if she played her cards right, maybe Jarod could make it fit better.

After the others were done rummaging through the pile, Ash turned her attention back to it.  The nasty memory of prying them off of the dead was still fresh in her mind, and the task was a challenging one.  In the end she found a worn piece of leather armor, a knife and a sword.  A surge of emotion slid into her, she couldn't quite identify it but was able to shake it off.

With Garrick's help they retrieved the hand cart and proceeded to load it up with some of what he thought might be the most valuable pieces.  It was grim, but at the same time they all knew that the towns folk and the Widow could benefit from some of these things, and it seemed wasteful to leave it all behind.

With the cart loaded, the youths fell into a line, and made their way back down the draw, keeping in the washes unseen from anything at ground level. The rainwater gathered into the washes, and rushed past all of their boots, spilling over the tops and filling them with the frigid water. The lightest members of the group, Risos and Ash, struggled to keep their feet at times, and the effort of making progress soon began to wear on even their young bodies.

Scouting a bit ahead, Ash and Oran were able to locate a thick stand of pine, where the ground was somewhat sheltered by the dense foliage. A little crawling and soon they were all on soft, if not cold, ground, the sounds of the rain, now slackened to a drizzle drowning out the chattering of their teeth.

Ash took a moment to hide the cart in the dense foliage before crawling back in to join the others.  It had been clear for some time from her slowed pace and her unusual silence that the rogue was spent.  She waited quietly, with her arms wrapped across her chest, shivering with the cold until Garrick settled into place. She was, no doubt wanting to claim his leg as a pillow again tonight.

Harrod looked around and tried to raise the lean-to again. As soon as he could he tried to find enough dry materials to get a small fire going. They would need the heat if they were going to try and not catch their death. He prayed to the creator to help him succeed in bringing warmth and light to their makeshift campsite. Harrod tried to shift Risos so that he was closest to the pending fire. The poor boy had more than chill in his bones right now and needed the comfort of the firelight to help penetrate the darkness within.

Lucas watched with keen interest as Harrod worked studiously on the fire.  He seemed to struggle a bit and Lucas frowned, then leaned in.  "I might offer...?"

The young magi scooped up a few scraps of the soggy kindling into his fists and squeezed a moment.  A bit of smoke curled from between clenched knuckles and he released them, tumbling back to the ground as dry as aged bones.

Ash finally slid to the ground, leaning heavily against the trunk of one of the pines, and watched curiously as Lucas and Harrod worked at the fire.

The young priest carefully tended the fire until the flames began to spread warmth around it and into each of them. With a slight smile and a prayer of thanks, the boy then turned to their packs and sought out whatever foods they still had and could share. He passed the food around as he spoke. He made sure to get Risos food first.

"You know, I think we were rather impressive this evening," he said between mouthfuls.

Lucas eyed him.  Impressive wasn't what came to mind.  He nibbled quietly on a small piece of stale cheese.

Impressive wasn't what came to Marissa's mind, either.  "I suppose it could be seen that way, Harrod," she said, rubbing her hands up and down her arms to generate some heat.  "We did what we needed to save Risos, but I know I got the truth of battlefield fighting knocked into me, tonight.  Rather than the stories they become.  Not sure I like it."  She looked sidelong at Lucas a moment before continuing.  "But I guess someone has to do it, yeah?  To keep others safe and all?"

Lucas offered a wan smile in return, still unsettled yet still quiet.

Harrod looked around at the others. He stoked up the fire a little and then passed around the sweetbread he had been hiding until now.

"Let's see," he began. "There were how many of them as we sat hidden in the brush? Against how many of us? And there are  one, two, three" he continued to count off each of them as he pointed around the fire. "All of us. All of us are still alive and with Risos safe. If that's not impressive," he paused as he took a mouthful of the sticky bread. "Thnph I'dth hayph t'see whuph y'thnk ith." He then looked up and grinned uncharacteristically as some of the crumbs were fell out of his mouth.

"Hrrmpph," snorted Oran from beneath his cowl, staring into the fire with his fist on his chin, "Yes, bloody well impressive. Impressive indeed. Sooo impressive...I think I'll go keep an impressive perimeter watch so I can demonstrate how bloody impressive I am." He flipped his boots over the other side of the watersoaked log he was resting on and trounced off into the shadows.

Oran's outburst startled Ash from a light sleep and she glared at his back as he stalked off.

Marissa stared at him a moment, blinking.  Then surprisingly, she laughed.  Both at the sight of Harrod with crumbs falling out of his mouth and at the truth of his statement.  She looked to the others with a grin, then back to Harrod.  "I guess you're right at that, Harrod," she said.  "Here I go thinkin' of stories again.  I guess it was pretty impressive.  But right now, I gotta admit that all I am is really cold and tired.  I feel like I could sleep for a week and then some."

The young mage, taken aback, watched first Harrod, then his fairer friend.  As she began to laugh, he too cracked a smile, then a snort and a stifled giggle.  Admittedly, when cast in the right light, the evening was in its own way impressive.  They were alive.  Risos was saved.  Their quest complete.  Despite himself he felt good about that.  He followed suit and grinned.

Garrick laughed as well, his own grin spreading ear to ear. They were alive. "I about messed my trousers, when them lil blighters smelled me out for an Elf... what was I thinking?"

The moments of laughter and mirth were short lived, however, as a sudden voice broke the silence outside their foresty shelter. "Hello the Fire!" A familiar vice called. "Ash, Garrick, Harrod, is that you?"

Ash blinked her eyes a few more times and tried valiantly to rub the sleep from them.

Harrod couldn't believe what he had heard. "Ryke is that you?" the boy asked.

Harrod was passionate about three things. His burgeoning devotion to The Creator was the first. Fishing was his second, and woodcarving was his third. He knew the boy Ryke Blackwood more than just because they were around the same age. Ryke's father had taught Harrod all the young priest knew about woodworking and how to handle the material from selection to cutting techniques.

"What in the Creator's blessing brings you out here?"

The young man who stepped from the shadows and into the firelight was familiar to them all, if not well known. Ryke Blackwood was the son of the local lumberer. Though he helped his father when needed, delivering supplies, helping move the fallen timber to the mill and such, Ryke was also known as a burgeoning tracker and hunter. He'd helped patrol the outskirts of the town for the past couple of years.

He stood tall in the firelight, only his face giving away a touch of uncertainty. He was dressed as one might expect from a woodsman; sturdy clothing reinforced with bits of leather, a large knife on his hip. He had a small pack on his back, a sack slung by a strap around his shoulder, a whittled club in his hand. He was tall in spite of only having just seen his sixteenth year, dark hair spilling over his eyes. He offered a tentative wave.

"Ah, gnomes." He smiled, knowing that sounded a little off. "Or dwarves, maybe. I don't really know yet." He looked around the group. "When you left I decided it was time for me to go exploring, too. I went up towards the High Pastures and just sort of let my feet carry me from there." Firelight glinted from blue eyes as Ryke scanned the group. He noted the details of their travel as well as their recent gains.

"Um, it seems you all have had some luck out there."

"Well, some good and some bad," Marissa said quietly. "When we got to the Widow Denellon's place, she told us Risos had gone missing," she continued, nodding to the boy.  "So we came up here to find him.  And we did, along with... I still don't know what they were, except some kind of Orck-kin or something.  So, we were gonna rest up for the rest of the night and take Risos home in the mornin'."  The young woman shook her head, her brown eyes worried and a little haunted still. 

Ryke's eyes widened a little at the mention of Orck-kin but he managed to avoid interrupting and settled instead for the occasional nod of his head.

"...And Marissa Errald and her pals whooped them turd-breathed ignerts, and untied me!" Risos chimed in a little too loudly. "Marissa Wolvender herself." He said, quieting a little and leaning back against Harrod's pack, looking at Marissa as if he just realized she was *that* Marissa.

Ryke smiled at that. Marissa was known around Lanberg for her strength as well as her somewhat serious manner. He had no doubt that she would have indeed 'whooped' her foes if that's the way her mind was set.

Marissa hoped that the relative darkness and the heat of the fire would mask the deep blush suddenly creeping up from her neck.  Fortunately, Risos continued, thus saving her from either commenting or trying to dissuade him.

"And Ash untied me, and Lucas..." he said, looking more than a little confused. "shot one with light outta his fingers, and it fell dead like a stick." The boy had more to say, but looked as though he'd been sorely tried, and needed a moment to rest, and take the time to think about the things he had seen, and heard.

Lucas smiled thin and weak.  He didn't know Ryke very well, no more than any other resident, and the description made him self-conscious.

Ryke chuckled. The tale from a small boy seemed somehow both grander and more truthful than any bard's tale. He wasn't sure how much to believe but it had obviously impressed the lad. It sounded like something his friend Ash might have made up, but she was unusually quiet this evening.  She looked bedraggled and exhausted and was clearly having trouble keeping her eyes open.  Other than a lazy smile and wink, she hadn't joined in the cheery welcome.

Something odd arose behind the boy called Ryke, a stiff gnarled branch it seemed. Not a winding twisted branch, but a long shaft. Without warning and sound a figure appeared holding it. The staff rose up to strike the boy, then a voice erupted from the dark figure, "Ryke, you old so and so!" said Oran dropping the staff from his hands and throwing his arms around him. "What are you doing in this part of the wood, mate? I thought your father only let you stay in the training woods?"  For the first time since they left their homes this morning, Oran was smiling.

Anxious alarm turned to surprised joy as Ryke realized who it was 'attacking' him. He smiled broadly and returned the hug, including a clap on the back that may or may not have been a touch too hard. He stepped back grinning. "Not much he could say once you and the others left to go on your own adventures." He rubbed the back of his head. "Besides, he'd had his time to go see the world. Now it's my time."

Turning slightly to include everyone. "You all seem worn out, that's for sure, and you're bedded down for the night. We can talk more in the morning and you can give me the whole story of where you've been and what you've seen. I'm fresh enough that I can sit watch for you, if you want."

"That'd be the thing." Garrick said, glancing at poor Risos, the lad's eyes drifting closed, despite his best efforts to stop them. "It sure is good to see ya out here." He said with his own tired smile. "The unlooked for guest brings the best vittles." The old saw was widely accepted as truth in the Four Rivers, where it was custom to bring food when visiting friends.

Ash grunted appreciatively at that, trying once more to rub the sleep out of her eyes.

Harrod reached down grabbed another of the sweet breads he had taken from the widow's larder. He tossed it to it to Ryke and spoke. "I am not certain about the others," he began, "but I am a little too wound up to sleep right now." The young priest began to recount the events leading up to and of the combat. His voice was strong and he left out the details of any arguments or dissension that might have crept into their planning of the rescue mission.

While Harrod told the details of the evening, Ash finally gave in and slipped into a deep slumber.  It spoke volumes to the others how she could be so boisterous during her waking hours, because once she fell asleep it would take a cataclysm to wake her.

One by one, each in turn the youths drifted into sleep, all save for Ryke who stood watch for the few hours that remained till dawn. Sometime during those small hours, the rain slacked off and eventually died. High blue skies greeted the travelers as they awoke, as did the chirping and squeaking of dozens of birds, apparently upset that the humans had taken up residence so near to their nests.  It wasn't long before the fire was rekindled, and the smell of bacon from the stores filled the air as well.
 
As the others started to rouse themselves Ryke stood up and stretched, yawning widely and shaking his head to clear the early morning cobwebs. He wouldn't have minded a little sleep, but he'd gone longer with less in the past. He stepped into the woods to relieve himself and, when finished, came back by a circuitous route to gather some twigs and small limbs, in case the group needed more for the fire.

As he bent down to retrieve a fallen limb something caught his eye. Carefully setting down his bundle, Ryke squinted at the ground, using his fingertips to brush leaves and small twigs away from a particular spot. With growing consternation he stepped lightly away from the spot, perpendicular to the path back to the camp. With increasing frequency he'd move, stop and study the ground, then continue on.

When he finally returned to the camp his expression showed some concern.

"We had a visitor last night," he said without preamble. "Someone circled the camp, quietly enough that I heard nothing."

"Some watch you are."  Ash's voice called out from half way up one of the tall pines, her tone was light.  It was the pine cone that she threw down in Ryke's general direction that gave away her location.

Lucas sat next to the fire, clutching his knees to his chest and trying to wake up.  Ryke's news caused his teeth to suddenly stop chattering and he swallowed hard and looked up.  "Someone?" he asked.

"Boots, intelligent movement..." Ryke trailed off with a shrug, letting that stand. "Circled the camp in careful fashion, left to the Northwest from whence he came."

Garrick walked up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, half a breadcrust dangling from his mouth. His eyes fell to the ground, to examine the boot prints. He was no tracker, by any means, but some things were obvious. "That boot is too big to be made by those lil campers we fought."

"Could have been a curious wanderer," Ryke said without much conviction.

"Yup.  Could've been that."  Ash echoed helpfully from her perch.

"Or it could be someone who has interest in where you all have been recently." He pinched his lips, an unconscious gesture. "Well, whichever. What were your plans today?"

Harrod didn't like the fact that there was suddenly a mystery connected to the mystery. He didn't like it one bit.

"We need to get Risos back home. That is our first goal," he said as a statement of fact. "We haven't talked about what next, but this book we found should make it's way back to Master Schenwar with haste, I think."

"What Harrod said," Marissa yawned and stretched.  "I don't like to think we're being watched or followed, but Risos needs to get home, first.  Then we need to get back to town and work out what's to happen from there."  She grinned a bit at Ryke.  "I know you just came from there and are off to see the world and all but I think what's been tossed in our way with that book and everything, you might get that adventure you're lookin' for if you stick around."

Ryke returned the smile. "I'm okay with that. Safety in numbers, anyway."

"Yeah!  And we gotsta git paid from the Rync still."  Ash added to the list.

Lucas was a bit aghast at the dismissiveness over last night's intruder.  He scrambled to his feet to shadow Ryke.  "So..." he mumbled worriedly, "Someone was lurking around the camp last night?  You think he was... dangerous?  Like-like a bandit, or something?"  The young mage gasped suddenly as a thought struck him, "You think it was an orc?"

Ryke's smile faded. "Well," he said slowly. "I...I suppose it could've been." He could feel his heart beating. He hadn't even considered that it could be an orc. His eyes tracked left and right as if he thought there might be one visible. "I suppose you could've been followed...if they thought it was important." He looked around at the others as if seeking some sort of confirmation one way or the other.

Lucas' eyes were wide as saucers.  He turned and cast a petrified look across the group and gave a hoarse whisper:  "An orc...?"

"'Them little booger-heads said they was runnin' from someone, didn't they?" Risos said as he emerged from the bushes, pulling up on the waistband of his trousers. He pulled his coat and cloak tight against him, to ward off the early spring morning chill as he continued." I think they was two separat families... or from two different towns, like Lanburgers and Ghalites."

"Nah.  We were all a'sleep like.  If it was a big orc, he'd a slit our throats.  That's what I'd do if I was an orc..  I mean if I was a big evil orc."  As she spoke the branches of the trees swayed until finally her head emerged hanging upside down from one of the lower branches.  "Sides, that was last night.  This is mornin', no since in frettin' about what coulda happened but didn't."

Lucas gasped in horror at the thought.

Harrod had been packing things for the trip back to the Widow' Denellon's farm. He had taken extra care with the book and made sure it was secure.

"Something about the timing is rather more than coincidental, I fear," he began. "We have no idea what it was that is still out there, but we should stay cautious and alert until we return Risos and ourselves to safety."

"Me too, I agree," Lucas nodded his head emphatically.  "I think we should, you know... hasten back."

"It might not be anything...you know, sinister," Ryke offered. "But caution rarely goes amiss. We should get going, and as long as we watch our back-trail I'm sure we'll be fine."

Garrick looked around, his eyes searching across the High Pastures, then the mountains rising high above them. "I'm not the outdoorsy type, but we've all heard tales about the foul things that live in the Kal'Lorryn." He looked at Lucas, and added gravely. "Things that creep the night and eat human flesh."

Lucas paled visibly and gaped at Garrick.  His imagination already churning with orcs, he could barely conjure up much worse.  Evidently Garrick could though.

Harrod looked up sharply at Garrick. The young priest knew that Garrick might just be joking, but the tone and words were a poor choice, especially at this time. Harrod couldn't help himself. He thought back to that time when he went fishing and found the bully Kendrick picking on young Jaspar Cogwyn. Harrod rose and strided, purposefully, over to Garrick.

"Stop it. Garrick," Harrod said forecfully. "There's enough that's dangerously real out here without you telling ghost stories to try and add more fright to the group."

The young priest hadn't intended to be so bold or intense, and he surely hoped he hadn't hurt Lucas' feelings, but Harrod couldn't help himself.

Ash flipped gracefully off the bottom limb of the tree and landed quietly on her feet.  "Lucas ain't no baby.  And he don't need you mutherin' him.  Right Lucas?"

"Uh?" the mage gulped.

Garrick popped Lucas lightly on the shoulder. "Aw Harrod. Lucas knows I'm just crankin' on him." But he did look at Risos and add. "Sorry, Risos. There ain't no such thing as the booger-man." He let it go at that, and kept the rest of his thoughts to himself.

"That's funny Ash," Harrod replied, "I never said this was about Lucas. I'm sorry," the priest said in the direction of the mage, "if I made any offense. There is a time and place for jokes. But after the horror of what Risos has been through, maybe a little less with the ghost stories wouldn't be a bad thing. Agreed?"

Ash gave a nonchallant shrug as she brushed some stray foliage out of her boy cut hair.

"Yeah, no sense in wonderin' what it might have been," Marissa said pragmatically. "Like as not, most of us will have nightmares for a while, anyway."  The young woman finished braiding her russet-colored hair, then stood and looked around the camp with a nod.  "And if this is just beginning, we might face worse," she thought to herself.

Lucas frowned, uncomfortable being the center of attention, and resigned himself to fuss over his small pack.

"Can we jist git already?"  Ash asked finally after taking the dirty looks and mutters that came her way.

"Yeah, let's get on the road, here.  The exercise will help warm us up and I wouldn't mind pausing at Risos's house to get completely dry and warm before heading back to town."

"...and some of that jam!"  Ash added enthusiastically as she bent to pick up her pack.  "I'll take point."  She kicked at the ashes a bit to make sure the fire was dead and then headed out of the small tuff of trees that had protected them through the night.

Ryke smiled at the girl's enthusiasm. He was getting into the spirit of the adventure, even if he was a late-comer and headed back to town, besides. These people, some of them friends but all known to him, had already seen some of the world. Fate was indeed smiling on him if he had fallen into such company so early on.

"I'll take the rear," he offered. "I'll keep an eye on our back trail as we go."

And so the group of youths set out, heading ever downhill, through the high pastures, towards Ramhorn Ridge, and the Denellon farm. The sun climbed quickly, chasing the morning chill away. What was over an hours walk uphill, when weary from a full day's walk, was hardly even 45 minutes moving down hill on fresh legs. Though short on sleep, the going was easy. The travellers were even able to gather up well over half of Risos' scattered flock, most of which had formed into small groups, and wandered downhill as they grazed.

The subdued Ash from last night, sober from the blood of the fight and filth of the corpses, seemed to have completely recovered.  She bounded down the hill with her normal enthusiasm and made a bit of a game of somersaulting and then staggering in a dizzy daze.  She commented to Garrick that it was more enjoyable than Mrs. Polarch's hard cider and had half as much more affect.  

Garrick shook his head, and laughed, as he watched Ash roll with the slope. The going was much easier now despite the fact that it was loaded with armor and weapons. "There's a mug of that with my name on it, at the Plowman's Rest. We got five silver coins waiting on us back home."

"If my Da dont set me to the forges when we get home." He added in a near mutter. It was plain to see on his face, that prospect pleased him little.

"I don't think he'll do that when he finds out what's been happening, Garrick," Marissa put in.  "I get the feeling that this won't be our last little trip out and about.  We stepped in somethin' and I'm not sure if it's good or not."

"I think you are right, Marissa," Harrod interjected. "I have a feeling we might be making another round soon depending on what the Elders think about our news and our discovery."

Garrick looked up, one eyebrow arched high on his forehead. Just in that moment, his elven heritage plain to see. "I'm sorry, I thought you two had met my Da."

"You don't give your Da enough credit for brains and sense," Marissa said with a faint frown.   "Seriously, do you think he's going to ignore what happened up here or think we all made up the same story?!"

Garricks smile melted, his joke missing its mark. "Oh he will believe me, and us. He knows I don't lie to him, I think. Then he will say Nothing a few hours at the forge wont fix. and set me to work."

The tall young woman snorted softly.  "Sorry... this whole thing's makin' me edgy and grumpy.  Not much sleep doesn't help.  But, if you need someone to stick up for ya with your Da..." she added in a broad tone.  He knew that tone very well.  It's the tone she used when they sparred together as she teased him, taunted and dared him.  The corner of her wide mouth twitched too, as she tried to hide her humor.