The northern track climbs a low hill above the farms. From the crest, the stone well, town road, and distant fields lie open beneath the brightening sky.
Bren leads the mule onto a patch of coarse grass and loosens its reins. The animal lowers its head to graze while the companions settle near the roadside.
Bren
We have enough food for several days, though the water will decide our pace. The next reliable well matters more than the miles on the map.
Slaan
And conversation matters nearly as much. Our story is simple, but every extra detail gives a curious stranger something to remember.
Nhal
Then we speak of the road, the weather, and the farms. Mortals enjoy harmless subjects when they are not busy inventing dangerous ones.
Slaan shades her eyes and studies the roads below. A cart moves between the farms, while two distant riders emerge on the main road and remain far too small to identify.
Bren
We rest only a little longer. When those riders pass, we continue north, and we let the road decide how much company we meet.