The following day broke with high blue skies and a cold breeze coming from the southwest, holding the promise of a warm sun and a cool breeze. The sounds of the Iveri and Leynn Rivers mingled with the songs of waking birds to form the Springtime music of Lanburg in the morning. Already Rerd Capaze (the town wainright) and his twin sons Mykul and Marg, were heading to the banks of the Iveri with their poles and tackle baskets in hand.

A rather sullen Ash was making her way from Grissim's cottage to the meeting place. Apparently he'd gotten into so much trouble with the stolen hard cider that his mother had forbidden him from joining them today. "Damn the Creator anyways!" The rogue stomped as she appreciated the crafty ways the all seeing had of making her regret her choices.

It wasn't a miracle that Lucas showed up in the morning. The fact that his father spoke not even a word to him after the peddler's display last night wasn't completely unexpected, or even very unusual, all things considered. But that meant, without a word to the negative, he would still be going.

And so Lucas showed up in the morning, looking a little rough around the edges, but awake and ready for the trip nonetheless. He had nothing but a small day pack, a walking stick and a self-conscious smile that worried at his face every now and then.

Marissa greeted her friend with a wide smile. "Lucas! I'm glad you made it!" she said with utter sincerity. Ever since the day she thwarted 'Wyrmy's' (as he has since been called by the younger generation) beating of him, she'd been a staunch friend, seeking him out whenever she came to town. She looked very eager for the trip and the break in routine. Brown eyes danced with eagerness and delight and she itched to be going.

Lucas grinned despite himself, but stared down at his feet anyway. He adjusted the day-pack on his shoulder as if it weighed much more than it did and managed a somewhat bashful reply: "Me too."

The sun was just a semi circle of orange in the East, when Rync Worine appeared from the barn behind the Inn, leading his team of nags, and his rattletrap wagon. Grinning his stained smile as he sighted the group of youths assembled on the street in front of the place, he waved, but did not yell his greeting. The morning seemed to perfect to disturb it with a call, even a friendly one. As he led the wagon nearer the youths, he spoke with quiet tones, and the after affects of last nights hard ciders could be plainly seen in his face.

"Good morning youngsters. Good to see you up and ready to go. Of course, you're Lanburg folk, so I should have known if there was a job to do, you'd be anxious to get at it. At any rate... your payment is held by the honest Samn Chedena, with instructions on what to pay."

As quickly as the word pay fell from the old peddler's mouth, Ash had completely forgotten that she was pining over Grissim.

He fished a sheaf of parchment from his breast pocket, folded into quarters, and handed it to Harrod as he continued. "This is the Widow's receipt, have her mark down any chips, or cracks in any of the pieces, and show it to Chedena when you return, and he will pay you all."

Harrod studied the paper as Rync indicated the parts of the parchment while he gave them instructions. The young lad nodded in understanding and carefully re-folded the parchment before he safely tucked it away.

"We'll be as careful as we can, Master Worine," she said with a nod. "It'll get there right and tight," she smiled.

"I know you will, or I'd not have offered you the job." The peddler said with a smile forced through his hangover. "Be well, and stride long Lanburgers, may the road rise to meet your feet." With that, Rync Worine boarded his wagon, and with a flick of the reins, steered his way out of town, over the western road, towards Ghal.

*****

The trail leading North and West along the banks of the Leynn River was well worn close to Lanburg. It meandered back and forth, paralleling the course of the river mostly, past farmsteads, and orchards. Sheep and goats and chickens and hogs and cattle could be seen at most of them. As the groups progress led them upwards into the highlands, the farms became more and more sparse, and the well used road turned into more of a trail. Trees and scrub brush, and wild grasslands took the place of farms, and fences and well ordered apple groves.

As the trail led further away from Lanburg, Ash instinctively took the lead. Her movements were unpredictable, but always sure of their way. Sometimes she'd walk on her hands for several paces, or trot backwards while trying to engage Garrick into some playful banter, cartwheels were had and no fence pole was safe, but in the end - her keen eye was always on their destination.

Lucas, who wasn't as comfortable in the very back of the group as he had thought he might be, tried to match his pace to the young Marissa whose step was not concerned in the least with his. When he did have the occasion, he spoke. "She is always with such... exuberance, this one?" he said, gesturing to the rogue in the lead.

"I honestly couldn't tell you, Lucas," she replied with a sigh. "I don't know her hardly at all, except to see her here and there or to hear a little about her from Garrick." She lowered her voice a little and leaned down slightly to talk more into his ear. "Personally, I'd like to find some way of nailing her feet to the ground for a while. She's making me crazy with all that."

This drew a stifled giggle and a snort from the boy, who tried to hide his amusement at the mental image. "I don't know where she finds the energy," he admitted.

By noon, the group was ready for a rest, and a short meal.

Ash pulled out some bread from her pack and nibbled at it distractedly as she enjoyed the new scenery. "We ain't gonna make it tonight."

It had only been a few hours, but Lucas' feet were already a bit sore and the sun was warm on his shoulders. He sat gratefully with a heavy breath and pulled out a thin waterskin. He heard Ash's comment, and replied without thinking, mouth still wet from the drink. "How much farther, you think?"

"We kin't be half way there yit." Ash took another pull at her bread as she regarded Lucas. "We kin sing some songs or somethin' though, to help the time pass. If'n we do it right, it won't feel like it's really takin' that long."

"That'd be a trick," Lucas said, a bit more wearily than he intended.

After the meal was eaten and the fire extinguished, the long uphill trudge resumed. Being early spring, it would be dark rather early, and the chances of reaching Ramhorn before dusk were remote indeed. The westering sun still shone brightly, and the breeze was cool on their faces.

As the afternoon aged towards evening, it was becoming clear that a break for dinner would be needed soon. Stopping for dinner would guarantee arrival on the Ridge after dusk, but skipping the meal would mean hunger on arrival, a decision would have to be made.

Harrod looked around at his traveling companions when they paused to assess things. He barely knew them, and they barely knew him. They should all, however, have some input into this decision.

"It might be wise," he began, "if we maybe stopped for a little while to eat something. It might not be kind of us to show up famished, but we should also try to make it there before it gets too dark. What do you think?"

Ash shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "I wanna eat. I kin find the way there, even if'n it gits dark. 'Sides, looks like Lucas could use a rest."

The slightest lad was concerned with the audible rumblings in his stomach and the soreness of his feet when he heard his own name and looked up worriedly. "Who, me?"

Some were looking at him and he was immediately embarrassed. "What? No, I'm okay," he mumbled, looking downward, "Don't fret on my account, that is..."

"Yer jist a good excuse." Ash said with a grin, as she flipped up onto her hands and walked a couple of paces upside down. "We should stop at the next clearin' and fill our bellies."

Harrod smiled a little at the banter, and looked to Lucas to make sure he felt part of the jest and not the brunt of it. He thought back to that day coming back from fishing when Jaspar Cogwyn was set upon by some of the town bullies. Harrod realized that Lucas was no Jaspar, but it didn't stop the Rector's ward from waxing protectively.

"You know," he whispered to Lucas as he stepped into stride with the young mage. "She might not look too bad as a toad or something else." He then winked at Lucas. "I'll distract Garrick if you need." The young priest's smile was usually infectious, and he waited to see Lucas' reaction.

Marissa, hadn't strayed too far from her friend the whole day, keeping him company and getting him to laugh occasionally. She grinned over at Harrod and winked. "Not a toad. She does enough hopping around as it is. Maybe a snail. Slow her down a touch."

"Aye," Harrod began, "I believe you are correct, Marissa. Although I am not certain even THAT would slow her down."

Harrod smiled as he stayed in step with the two and he continued his easy trek.

Lucas, who had shrunken a little at the attention, seemed to straighten some at this new banter. He even stopped chewing his bottom lip long enough to manage a smirk as he listened back and forth.

Ash sprung back to her feet quickly after that, the slower pace allowing the rest of them to get in front of her for a change. Drawing from her seemingly unending supply of energy, she raced to catch up and sprung playfully onto Garrick's back.

Garrick stumbled slightly at the sudden weight on his back before regaining his balance. He'd been quieter than usual lately. Something was clearly eating at him. Ash's playfulness seemed to bring him out of his funk. He took off at a trot with Ash on his back.

Marissa frowned suddenly. Then she paused in her step to assess why she frowned at Ash's and Garrick's actions. Then she shook her head slightly, shaking off the feeling and continued on with her walk and conversation with Harrod and Lucas.

The rogue whooped with joy as Garrick took off, their exuberance a stark contrast to the worried townsfolk that had filled the Inn last night in Lanburg. As he finally slowed down near a clearing, her laughing had subsided and she slipped off of his back. "Now, that's more like it. What's been eatin' atcha all day?"

Garrick shrugged. "Nuthin'." Whatever it was, he didn't seem to want to talk about it. But experience with his friend Ash had taught him that she saw such a denial as a challenge. Luckily, she was easily distracted. "Hey look! A Hebrides Hawk!" He said excitedly, as he pointed up at the sky. "Must be hunting wabbits."

Ash did a final somersault onto the plush grass in the clearing, and stood up with a bow as she gestured to their lovely surroundings. Her manner was light as she presented their dining area, making it seem as though the Creator himself put it exactly there, so that they could enjoy it. "Let's eat!"

"And how," Marissa smiled and carefully set down her pack.

"How?" Ash echoed, as she cocked her head quizically - resisting the urge to tease Marissa about the question. "I have a bunch a deer meat. I kin share what I gots with ya."

"I believe," Harrod told Ash "that Marissa was agreeing that it was time to eat not asking how we were going to eat. And you are both right about it getting close to dinner."

"This would be a good place to make camp for the night," Oran said as he took in the groups surroundings. "No sense in trying to rush to the widow's house, and the weather be fair enough." He moved over to a nearby tree, removed his pack, and shimmied up the trunk and into the foliage, using the higher vantage point to take in the surrounding country.

Nodding to himself, he dropped back down and dusted flecks of bark from his hands. "Be happy to take first watch as well."

Ash shrugged nonchalantly, not the least bit concerned one way or the other as to whether they camped out tonight or headed on to the Widow's house. Instead, she put some of her exuberance to work, "I'll git us some kinlin'" ...and with that she took off to gather what they needed.

Garrick chuckled. "First watch?" he scoffed, "What? Like guard duty? Afraid Worine's orcs are gonna come get you?" He chuckled at the notion. He camped in these woods all the time alone. The most dangerous animals in these parts were wolf, like the ones that had attacked at Marissa's farm, but they had been attracted by the smell of livestock. Normally, they would avoid people. He set about clearing and preparing a place for a small cooking fire.

"No. Orcs I've not seen, but there be other things in these woods to watch for," replied Oran practically.

Ash dropped off some small twigs and dried leaves. "I think all that talk o orcs n stuff, was real. It ain't like Master Worine to jist pull our legs off with lies."

Oran spent a few moments gathering several small stones from their surroundings, then placed them in a ring around then wood that Ash had brought. He pulled a small bit of flint and steel from his pouch and set about to starting the fire, listening as his companions chatted.

Garrick chuckled again. "No, Master Worine peddles in rumors. He never said he'd seen anything first hand. And even that was up in Shail Garath. That's a long ways from here." Garrick looked like he wanted to say more, but didn't. A pensive expression came back over his face, much like he'd had most of the day.

Lucas had settled heavily against a tree and removed his boots to rub the soles of his feet as he listened to the others. His frown returned at the mention of orcs again and he didn't particularly care for the idea of being snuck up upon in the middle of the night by anything of green skin. He decided he would sleep close to the fire.

Shuffling his things around, he scooted closer to the center of the group. From his pack he withdrew a small wedge of cheese from which he broke two pieces and offered one to Marissa. This action he tried to make seem absent. It didn't.

His friend smiled as she took the cheese and offered up some of the spiced apple juice from her flask. "Thanks, Lucas." Her gaze swept her companions. "Maybe Oran's right though, about setting up watches or something. I mean, we have been cooking and the smell might make a few animals braver than they'd otherwise be. I know it works that way with humans, sometimes," she ends with a quick, disarming grin.

The fire built, and the foodstuffs shared out and warming, the group of youths took seats on whatever was available, logs, rocks, a clump of moss. Even those who thought they weren't hungry, soon heard their bellies growling at the smell of food. Squirrels scurried about in the trees nearby, and the ever present sound of the river filled the clearing in accompaniment to the crackling of the fire.

Garrick chuckled good naturedly at Marissa's comment, "Feel free. I've camped out here alone many times. The most vicious thing I've ever faced was a raccoon after my leftovers in the middle of the night. But if an orc jumps out of the shadows, be sure to wake me." He chuckled again at the thought. It was clear he didn't take the idea of orcs seriously at all, or anything untoward for that matter.

"I've lived and tracked in these woods as much as ye have, Garrick," Oran said calmly. "And tis best to have something and not need it, than ta other way round." The young druid was sitting with his back to the fire, eyes constantly in motion as he looked out at their surroundings.

Ash listened to the others, her exuberance from the day finally catching up with her. Her hazel eyes grew heavy and she shook her head twice to keep the sleep at bay. "I kin help if ya do watches, but I need ta sleep fer now. Maybe someone kin wake me up when it's my turn."

"That I will Ash. Sleep well."

Lucas, who seemed to do more listening than talking, soaked in the topic of orcs and night watches with a souring frown. He edged closer to the fire and his new friends, though not finding much more comfort in it as thoughts continued to plague him.

"Anyone want to play some dice before sleep takes us?"Garrick asked.

Ash's sat up and rubbed at her eyes with her palms, perking at the invitation to a game of chance. "Sure, I'll play. Anyone else?" Garrick could tell by the way she looked that she wasn't going to be any competition tonight.

Lucas smiled weakly and shook his head, content to watch for the time.

No one else speaking up to play, Garrick fished in his pack for the copper cup he had rough hammered out, early in his apprenticeship. He unwrapped the twine that held the handkerchief over it the lip like a lid. Dumping the bones out onto his palm, he smiled at the simple white cubes he had bought with his first months pay, to the furrowed brow of his father.

"Now...dontcha be gettin' too frisky in your wagerin', or I'll tell on ya ta Miss Polarch." Ash's tone was teasing as she did what she could throw off Garrick's game.

Garrick shook his head as if insulted, "I wouldn't think of it Ash. You're like a little sister to me."

The dice rattled in the hammered copper cup, and rolled out onto the dirt, as luck will sometimes do, it ran first one way and then the other. The game of making pairs and counting the pips for pennies, (in this instance, buttons, or bits of candy, or whatever else the youths had in their voluminous pockets) ended in what could best be described as a draw, with the vague value youths put on such things. Once Garrick had caught Ash trying to distract him, while she changed the facing of a die, the two laughed, and decided it was enough for one night, Garrick putting away the dice and cup, and leaning back against the bole of a tree.

With a full belly and the harmony of the night, Ash was finding it near impossible to keep her eyes open. A part of her hated to fall asleep and miss out on even one moment of this adventure, but her continuous stream of yawns made it clear that she was going to have to. She finally relented and crawled closer to where Garrick was leaning against a tree and curled up next to him with her head on his lap, before settling in for the night.

"Now ya need ta wake me up if'n I start to miss anything." Her eyes were about as serious as they got as she took him in. He'd been acting strange today and she had an inkling of what might be on his mind, but it was too serious of a conversation to dampen the evening with. "...and don'cha be goin' anywheres without me."

To the others the Rogue gave them a broad grin along with her sheepish good night. "Jist wake me when ya need me." In only a few moments after her goodnight, the boundless energy of the mischief maker was no more. Her heavy breathing and soft snore told the rest of them that she was sound asleep.

His feet hurt and his body ached. His belly was full and he was tired. But Lucas' eyes were wide as saucers in the dark as they skipped from tree to tree, shadow to shadow, from one night noise to the next. It would be some time before sleep finally found him.

Harrod had been idly whittling at a piece of birch he had found upon the trail as they travelled to Ramhorn. He had helped with dinner by bringing some salted fish that he had caught himself earlier in the week. He had also surprised the group a bit of honey-bread for an after dinner treat.

"I will take the last watch if you would none mind," he said in passing. "I am used to an early rise anyway."

He had noticed Lucas' uneasiness with the night sounds, and the young priest moved closer to him.

"Have you not spent much time camping under the Creator's nightsky," he asked Lucas.

"Huh?" the boy replied, confused. "No... I mean yes. I mean, it's not that, really..." He grew self conscious and embarrassed. "I've slept outdoors before with my brothers, you see. And Jacob likes to tell stories, you know, sometimes to-to-to... you know, unsettle me, but..." He trailed off finally and gave a meek smile and shrug.

Lucas gave a swallow and whispered, "Do you really think there are orcs out there?"

Harrod pulled out another two small pieces of honey-bread and passed one to Lucas. Harrod took a bite as he looked out into the woods.

"I'mph mooosthly thure," he began then finished chewing and swallowed. "I don't think we'll see any orcs this far, Lucas. But, no matter what we might see, we'll be together. And the Creator is with us as well," he continued with that easy smile upon his face. "Tell me, Lucas. How did you become interested in sorcery? How did you start to learn it. I have heard it is very complicated."

Harrod's curiousity seemed genuine, and there was no hint of sarcasm in the young cleric's voice or his posture.

There was a moment when Lucas' posture slackened just a bit, somewhat assured by the confidence of the other boy. But at the mention of spellcraft, he stiffened again. "Who, me? No, I'm... I'm not a... a REAL sorcerer, you know. I just... a couple... they're more like tricks, really, you know - nothing big."

Harrod's interest increased even more. "A couple? That's a couple more than most anyone else, I reckon. I am no expert, Lucas, by any means; but I bet what you can do are more than simple tricks. You must have great skill to be able to do what you do. Don't let anyone ever tell you differently."

Once again Lucas could sense no hidden agenda behind the words or face of young Harrod MacElvoy.

"Now as far as camping. I spent many an evening, when Rector Schenwar let me, camping out by the old Goosedown pond for fishing. You like to fish?" Harrod decided to give Lucas an out from the conversation about spells and sorcery if he decided to take it.

*****

The conversation, and the fire dies away slowly, replaced by smoldering coals, and tired yawns. As is the way after a day of travel, and changed routines, fatigue set in quickly. The sounds of the forest at night quickly became as a blanket over the clearing, and the watches passed one at a time, each of those willing, or wary enough to take a turn standing when called. Raccoons and possum haunted the leaf litter, and in the branches above, owls stood their own hungry watch. Eventually the moon ran its course, and the eastern sky began to turn a violet color, as the sun made its predictable, glorious daily entrance.

Harrod woke the others when it was time for them to rise. He then took his leave and went off to the side to say his morning prayers.

Blessed Creator, he began in the manner that Rector Schenwar had taught him. You shine within and without this bountiful world that is but a humble reflection of your grace and providence. May our tribulations be lighter as we try, once again, to echo the light and life that you have granted us. I remain your humble servant.

Harrod bowed twice and then rose to rejoin his companions for their quick meal. He helped break the camp and made ready to depart.

Ash twisted and stretched on Garrick's lap with little regard to his comfort. With the last remnants of sleep rubbed from her eyes, she hurried to her feet and was eager to begin their day of adventure.

As Garrick awoke, he almost immediately felt pain in his back from having fallen asleep leaning against a log. He did a few stretches once he was on his feet and before long, it was all he could do not to run the rest of the way.

Lucas stirred, then slowly, regretfully, almost painfully woke with a small whine. It took him extra time to pack his things, due to which he missed breakfast.

A light breakfast, a quick wash in the cold waters of the stream, and the group of youths made their way to the west, the mountains looming taller before them. An hour after setting out, the river and the road diverged, at the landmark commonly known as the Headstone.

Covered in ivy and settled deeply into the ground, for generations beyond count the huge boulder, wider and taller than any man, had sat here on its 'chin', keeping silent vigil on the road to Lanburg.

The exuberant rogue quickly climbed to the top of the landmark and enjoyed the breeze as it ruffled her short brown hair. She looked out as far as she could see in each direction, looking for anything of interest in the path ahead of them. "Looks ta be clear! Not long now, Lucas! Maybe an hours more ta go."

The younger mage smiled weakly, grateful for the news, but tired still from walking. He stopped for a few moments to take in the landmark rock formation. He was just thinking how he hadn't ever seen anything of its like, when he noticed Marissa beginning her climb.

Marissa had never been up here, before. She gingerly walked around the Headstone, looking it over. There was something about it that urged further exploration. She didn't have Ash's exuberance, but her light brown eyes were alight with curiosity as she moved strands of ivy away from the rock. Glancing up, she noted the pace the others had and knew she could catch up easily if she only took a few moments to indulge that raging curiosity.

The ivy grew thick and strong, and with the first sap of spring running through it, it took some effort to dislodge from the face of the boulder. A few grunting pulls, and the white stone underneath was clearly visible. The rock protruded from the boulder here, at eye level, and it gave the distinct impression of a huge nose, complete with nostrils....

Cinnamon-brown eyes opened wider at the discovery. Marissa looked up at Ash, and up at the others. "Hey!" she called out. "Did you guys know this actually is a head?" she asked, still amazed at the find. Eager hands began pulling more ivy away from the stone.

Finally Garrick made his way to the top of the hill with hand cart in tow. He put down the handles and pulled out a waterskin. He took a long draught as he looked around, clearly enjoying the view. He'd been up here before, but it had been years since he'd had enough time off at once to come up here.

Lucas scrunched his nose at the discovery. Why would anyone bother to carve such a thing way out here? He continued to watch Ash climb over the rock, anxious about her precarious perch, but not bold enough to speak on his worries. That and every now and then he would have to force himself to look away, lest he catch himself staring where he ought not.

The vines gave way easier as Marissa continued to pull at them. Almost like pulling back a veil, the vague, weather beaten image of a face appeared. A prominent brow and nose were plainly visible. The features looked vaguely familiar to the group of youths, as if someone had made a sculpture of Four Rivers folk, in general. Upon its brow was perched a crown of stone, cracked and missing many of its ridges and peaks.

Marissa opened her mouth to call out to her companions, then closed it with a sigh. Seems no one else was interested in her discovery. Probably because some of them had already discovered it, she thought with that tiny flicker of frustration she always felt when contemplating other people's relative freedom.

With a smile for Lucas, she came over and and dropped her arm once more around his shoulders. "Come on, then," she said. "Let's go catch up to the others. You doing okay? Maybe your mentor can tell us who this guy was supposed to be, you think?"

*****

Leaving the Headstone to keep its watch on the lower lands, the group makes its way along the road, and within another 10 minutes of brisk walk, the road began to climb steeply up the spine of Ramhorn Ridge. Trees and scrub brush slowly gave way to pastures and meadows. The Spine of the World Loomed high here, dominating the western horizon, and making each of the travelers feel small.

"Wow..." Marissa breathed, gazing up at the mountains, eyes wide with wonder and awe.

Lucas, sweating and grunting, barely managed the climb. At the top, he noticed Marissa and turned to follow her gaze. Still panting, he stood straighter as he swept across the vast range of mountains. "Yeah, wow..." he replied absently.

Ash's energy seemed completely renewed from yesterday and even the upward climb didn't slow her down. She wanted to offer Lucas some help with his pack, but feared the offer might be taken the wrong way by the shy boy. So, instead she led the way up the hill and moved anything that might get in the way of the hand cart.

After a few miles of steep climbing, the ridge more or less leveled out. Still rising, but gently towards the Highlands at the feet of the mountains, Farmsteads and smoke could be seen at distance to the left and right of the road. The Denellon farmstead, was the farthest west along the Ridge.

Arriving at the Denellon farm gave the travellers a much needed feeling of relief. The two story house and the lawn, surrounded by a split rail fence were all aged and well maintained. It had to take a body of work to keep up the large farm, and since Yarey Denellon, the family's Patriarch had passed four years ago, it was good to see the place in well kept condition.

"Finally!" sighed Lucas without thinking. It was reflexive: he couldn't help it, it just came out. He looked around self-consciously to see who noticed.

Ash whooped loudly as they finally reached the gate, she grabbed one of the posts to vault over the top. With little effort she had the gate open and held it while the rest of them filed through.

As the group opened the gate, and made their way onto the lane, they noticed the Widow Denellon, standing on the front porch, holding Raysa, barely more than a toddling girl, and looking out to the West. A puzzled expression crossed her face, as she noticed the group of youths walking towards her, but instead of coming out to greet you all, she turned back to the West, and stared into the distance.

Even though she'd never met with Widow Denellon before, Marissa knew something was wrong. Farm folk didn't simply wait on the porch for you if they knew you, and a lot of times even if they didn't. They tended to greet people warmly, with generous hospitality. She frowned thoughtfully and looked at the others. "Something's up," she said quietly.

Garrick was the last to file through the gate, still pulling the handcart. He looked back in mock irritation as he felt the cart suddenly become a few stones heavier. He didn't mind. He knew Ash wouldn't be able to sit still long enough to be a burden.

Ash's face lit up with one of those irresistible grins as she balanced expertly with a foot on either side of the cart. The Warden would have scolded her good and proper for being so careless next to the fine dinner ware, but it never occurred to her that she might slip.

Harrod turned to face the direction that Widow Denelon was facing. He looked to see if he could spy anything that might indicate what had her attention.

"I think you might be right, Marissa," he said. Harrod then removed the paper that the merchant had given him. He then moved towards the house and the widow.

"Good day, ma'am," he began politely. "I am Harrod MacElvoy. We've brought you something from Master Rync Worine. He bade me give this to you as well," he continued as he extended his hand that held the parchment. "Is...is there something you are looking for out on the horizon?

The Widow Denellon turned once more and forced a smile that showed enough crows feet to compliment the beauty of her eyes. She stood with her hip extended, supporting Raysa's weight and bouncing her slightly. She narrowed her green eyes as if trying to see back through the years to recall you as you were. Her eyes seemed to light up as she realized that six young people had shown themselves, looking at each of them in turn.

"Hello Harrod Macelvoy. I remember you. You helped me carry some supplies out of Samn Chedena's Mercantile, month after my husband died. You couldn't have been more than 12 cycles old."

Harrod thought back for a moment to that day. He remembered helping her as he saw her step out of the store. He reflected to see how different she seemed now.

"That was only four years ago," he said quietly so that only those near him could hear. "Yet something doesn't quite seem right."

"I look for Risos, he took the herd up into the High Pastures yesterday morning, and did not return." The widow continued, turning back to the west, and the feet of the mountains. Everyone who attended the Harvest Fest last fall knew who Risos Denellon was. He and his dog Thoar, had won the sheepherding competitions handily, even though he was the youngest in the field that day. The elder's had commented that it was hard to tell who the smarter was, Risos or Thoar. What was not in question was the love the two shared.

Lucas swallowed hard and felt his blood run cold for reasons he couldn't quite explain. It took all of his remaining effort to force himself to turn to follow the widow's curious gaze.

Garrick pulled the wagon up just in time to hear the widow's comment. His eyes flicked to Marissa as he remembered what had happened to her family. Sheep drew wolves, but there was no need to assume the worst.

Garrick spoke up. "Mrs. Danellon, we can find Risos for you. He's probably just looking for a sheep that got separated from the herd," he said reassuringly. "I bet he's missing your cooking right now." He looked around at the others for signs of agreement. Garrick was enjoying his time away from the forge, and was in no hurry to get back. And even Jordan wouldn't come down on him too hard for being late in order to help out a woman in need.

Marissa's cinnamon-brown eyes met his, caught and held for an instant. In those depths, he saw that she was going to go try and find Risos, even if no one else did.

Ash nodded her head enthusiastically in support of Garrick's offer. She was in no hurry to get home and the idea of a trip into the mountains sounded like fun.

Harrod nodded as Garrick spoke. The young priest looked to mountains and then looked back at the widow.

"Yes, ma'am," he said. "I think we could help." Harrod then turned to look each of the others in the eyes as he continued. "We should help. Ifn' you could spare a little more food for us to take. I don't think we brought enough to carry us a couple o' more nights."

Harrod hoped the others sense of right would overcome any fears they might have of travelling into the wilds of the mountains and spending a few nights out there.

The Widow's smile turned to Garrick and Harrod in turn as they spoke, plainly impressed by the reassurring words, even if not reassured. "It'd be nice of you all to go and look for the boy. I know he's been made the man of the house too soon, but even so, its not like him to be out all night. The pantry is in the root cellar under the kitchen, help yourselves, we've plenty. (My blackberry jam has won the midsummer ribbon for three years running, if youd like some.)" She added the last quietly, not wanting to sound boastful.

As the others talked, Ash bounded up the stairs and held her hands out for the toddler that the Widow was holding. "Kin I play with her while ya git your plates?" She was already holding her arms out towards the young girl, and the lively twinkle in the rogue's gaze, was one that children could rarely resist.

The widow forced a smile, and slid Raisa off her hip into Ash's eager arms. As the child wrapped her arms about Ash's neck, her fingers wound like bramble vines in Ash's hair.

Ash blew in Raisa's face and kissed both of her eye lids as she shut them tight against the unexpected assault. Next she lifted the toddler high in the air over her head as she listened to the widow.

"Plates? Oh my new flatware from Master Worine?" It was easy to see that platters and gravy boats were not highest on her mind, but in true Four Rivers fashion, she nodded, and continued. "Well business first, lets have a look-see at them, while your friends set to my pantry."

Garrick smiled, "We can bring the crate inside to the kitchen if you'd like," he said gripping the crate tightly and hefting it down from the cart. His muscular blacksmith's arms rippled with the effort. "Just lead the way."

"Show off," Marissa murmured, almost laughing. They all knew the crate wasn't that heavy. "Flex a little more and you'll rip your shirt."

Garrick's brows furrowed for a moment as he tried to find meaning in Marissa's words. The chest wasn't that heavy, but he hadn't been hamming it up either. Realization crept across as he glanced down at his biceps. His lips curled into a half-smile as he replied, "Don't worry Marissa. I'm sure you'll grow into your figure soon enough."

Lucas managed a smile as he followed the others to the root cellar. He wasn't sure how much he liked the idea of traipsing off into the mountainside, especially not having told anyone of their detour, save for the widow herself. Despite his misgivings, however, he was loathe to be the sole dissenter in the group and kept quiet. In the end, it was nice to be away from the town and in the company of other youths. (And his stomach grumbled greedily at the mention of blackberry jam).

The old farmhouse was clean, and well maintained, though those with trained eyes could tell the difference between the quality of the original construction, and the well intentioned recent repairs. Entering the kitchen, the Widow Denellon motioned to a thin door.

"The root cellar is through there. Dried apples, and salted pork, and cheese and of course my jams. Help yourselves. The folks round here make sure we have plenty, just light the lamp at the top of the steps, theres no light down there."

Turning to Garrick, she pointed to a sturdy table, made from Oak and kept polished. "Set it there, young man, and we will see how Master Worine's wares fared in your cart."

Harrod pulled out the piece of parchment that the merchant gave him.

"Excuse me, ma'am," he began in his usual, polite tone. "Master Rorine bade me show this to you."

Harrod then indicated the points of information on the parchment and relayed the message.

"Lucas," he continued as he turned to the others. "I am going to the cellar to gather supplies for our journey to the foothills. Would you mind joining me? I could use an extra pair of hands and eyes as we figure out what and how much we might need." The priest then waited for an answer.

"Huh?" Lucas was genuinely surprised and at the same moment confused. The cleric could have easily asked another, someone stronger, someone smarter. Lucas gave a sidelong glance towards the rest of them before shrugging in submission and followed Harrod towards the steps.

Ash stood behind Garrick and the Widow, the little girl still bouncing in her arms. "Git lots, Garrick eats like a horse!" She said loud enough for Harrod and Lucas to hear her as they headed towards the celar.

Garrick placed the crate where the widow directed and helped open it up. He replied to Ash with pointed humor, "Yeah, well at least I don't smell like one."

With only half an eye, the lovely Widow Denellon inspected the contents of the crate. Her other eye and a half, kept moving to the window with the Western exposure. The woman was plainly worried, and frazzled, but it was a sign of her strength of character, that she could even pretend to care about the plates.

The thin door led to a narrow stairway, with steep steps, and the lantern hung on a nail just inside the stairway. Ten steps down into the rough hewn cellar, and it was plain to see, that the widow had not exaggerated about the generosity of the folk on Ramhorn Ridge. Jars of beans, and tomatoes, as well as salted pork and venison, and the aforementioned apples and jams, lined shelves along the walls, kept free of dust. There was enough food here to feed the family for a year, it seemed.

Harrod looked around at the stock of supplies. He then turned to Lucas.

"How are you with numbers," he asked the other boy. "We need to figure out how much to take. I am fair with my ciphers, but even Rector Schenwar knows I don't have the best head for it. We need to figure on enough to cover us for one, maybe two days. What do you think?"

"Well, I don't really..." Lucas shrugged self-consciously as he slowly started around the cellar. Awestruck, he had never seen so much food in one place before, certainly not that wasn't loaded into the back of his father's wagon on its way to the city.

"Two days," he said at last, examining a glass jar promising the infamous blackberry jam. "If needed, we can ration to four. More than that and you'll have too much. But less wont do either..."

"I think you are right," Harrod replied. "And not that the others don't care, but I am not sure they are thinking along the same lines as we are. Let's you and I gather what we think we will need for the two days. And take a little extra. We can watch how we do on the first day and decide how well our supplies are holding up."

After helping the widow unload the plates, Garrick picked up the crate and headed towards the cellar. Ducking to enter, he set the crate down. "Thought you might need something to tote the provisions in. I'm figuring four days worth of supplies. Two out and two back in case we have to spend some time tracking, with enough for Risos for when we find him. Whatever we don't use, we can drop off when we come back by. That sound about right to you guys?"

Garrick was clearly in a better mood than he had been in the past couple of days. Before, he had seemed rather sullen. Now, he was downright cheery, as if he were looking forward to this jaunt.

Lucas whipped his head around to the apprentice smithy, a look of confusion across his face. He stared, almost gaped. Then he glanced at Harrod to gauge his reaction. Ironic as it was to offer an opinion so abruptly in contrast to their agreement, four days worth of food seemed like a lot to the young magi.

In the end, he faltered and shrank, resigning with a shrug. "Whatever you think is best..." he mumbled, and went back to examining his jar of jam.

Harrod caught Lucas' deflation, and the young priest thought for a moment as he pondered this and Garrick's suggestion.

"You know, Lucas" he began. "That's not something I even considered. Garrick may be on to something. When I mentioned days of travel to you, I hadn't even thought about any extended searches or even enough supplies for Risos. I can hear the Rector chastising me now for not providing you all the facts before you started making your ciphers. I'll try not to let that happen again."

He paused for a second before he continued.

"It also shows that everyone here might have some valuable insight and information."

Lucas gave a thin smile of surrender, but, since he didn't turn around, it was lost to the other boys. Silently, reluctantly, he placed the jam back on the shelf, gave it a gentle twist, considered adjusting once more, but let it stand. He stepped back from the shelves and shoved his hands in his pockets.

Garrick glanced back and forth between Lucas and Harrod, aware that he was missing something. He wondered if had interrupted something. Deciding it was none of his business, he asked, "So, you guys have this covered? Need anything from me?" He made as if to leave. He wanted to give them an out.

With the bulk of the group in the cellar, the Widow Denellon, abandoned the plates and platters on her kitchen table and turned to Marissa, and Ash. "You girls have gotten so big. I dont make it to town as much as I used to, since my husband died. All I have now is Risos and Raisa, and Risos is so much like his father, it's been like having him here in a way. Find him? He's not lost, nor did he just decide to not come home."

Tears welled up in her eyes, as the possibilities rolled through her mind, not for the firs time, or the last. "I know he's only 12, but.... he's very reliable...."

Ash looked over at Marissa, her own eyes full of uncertainty. She had no experience in dealing with grieving women. Deciding to leave the consoling to the older and wiser, Marissa, Ash lifted little Raisa high into the air over her head and gave her a gentle shake. "Don't ya evin worry bout cher brother. The Warden, he trained me ta track and I'll bring him back ta ya."

With that Ash swung the small child down to sweep between her legs. "It might take me a bit, we might have ta battle a thing er two, but we'll git him back ta ya."

Marissa stepped up to the woman and drew her in for a supportive hug. We will fetch Risos home, Missus Denellon," she said confidently. Hopefully alive and well, she added silently. "Between Oran and Ash, we'll track him down. Promise."

The Widow fell into the hug, and it was only then that Marissa realized she was trembling. After a moment, she extricated herself from the embrace, and smiled. "You're such dear girls, The Knitting Circle is going to have to set to finding you both husbands soon."

She was obviously trying to change the subject, and the jest was plain in her voice, though the way things worked in The Four Rivers, it was likely that the subject had already come up at least a few times, with the Ladies of the Circle.

Ash's face grew serious as she quickly handed the toddler back to the Widow, worried that her show of affection might have misrepresented itself as an eagerness to have a family. "Not me, Miss Denellon! There ain't no money ta be had in wifin'. ...and I know a thing er two bout some things, so if'n you talk ta that circle you can tell 'em I ain't gonna be needin' no husband." The conviction in her voice was true and pure, the young rogue seemed to have not yet been bitten by the love bug.

The three women had a quiet giggle together, which stopped abruptly as the young men appeared from the cellar door. The puzzled looks of the boys met knowing smiles from the womenfolk, who then looked at one another and smiled, as if in some humorous plot only they knew about.

Somewhat mystified, even the most clueless of the males, knew when it was best not to inquire.