The Wold was just as intimidating as last time, ancient dense trees stretching in every direction as far as the eye could see, the one difference was the type of tree, the “outer layer” of the Wold was dense pines but these inner pieces were different, more like vast sprawling oak trees, their trunks dotted here and there but their branches growing like ivy on stone, like frost on glass, covering the entire sky entwined with themselves over and over joining and fighting each and every one covered in leaves and searching for the sky.

The darkness under the branches was… green, somehow, not just the light even the air itself tasted green.

The expedition had halted just before the Wold, wagons end on end and now lashed together. Alvis had insisted on it. Two abreast the double lines of wagons were tied to each other and those behind, all an attempt to keep the green sea’s price at bay.

No burning road here, no cleared trail, instead wagons rolled forwards slowly, their wheels almost locked together, axels grinding against axel as the column crept forwards.

Erika was sat next to her caravan which was waiting to be tied in, the vanguard of wagons and delvers were chosen by Sigurn from the very best fighters and woodsman of the expedition with her own caravan at the very front.

Alvis intended to hook the “command” wagon up to the end of the convoy, allowing him and his associates to act as rear-guard and overwatch with their thunderarms. This way they would keep the best visibility possible, with rangers on the step of every caravan with oiled bows ready and wagon-beds full of armed and armoured heavy warriors this was the best chance they had to get through the Wold without casualties, the expedition had already been mauled by the meridians trap and Alvis wasn't taking any chances.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

This wasn't some leap of tactical genius from Erika intuiting all this though, Alvis had drilled the plan into Erika over a good three hours of exasperated sarcasm. Erika didn’t really have a “big picture” mind so Alvis had been forced to carefully explain her role in all this, which was heavy support. Essentially if people started screaming Erika was supposed to run towards it, not away from it.

Normally Erika might not have been enthusiastic about it… but she’d seen a 7th circle fight! Erika felt energised and humbled and aspirational all at once, seeing that power, that grace and sureness, hurling spells that would crippled Erika’s Well like they were cantrips! Erika had never seen anything like it, even Sigurn being chosen wasn't as exciting. Now she was ready to fight, to prove herself in battle, everyone knew your soul grew quickest if you were a warrior and a bigger soul meant a higher circle, it was just basic maths! Erika wanted that circle.

So here she was, sitting on top of her cart with the role of “blasting anything that moves.” The only positive is that her girlfriend had decided to move into her cart fully, sure it was a quick change but there was a reasonable chance they could both die on this expedition.

Trundling forwards on stumpy legs a droog takes up the slack of chain and rope, straining and heaving it is driven forwards by its training until finally, with a heavy grunt, Erika feels her wagon begin to move juddering forward step by step, into the gloom.

“Here we go again.” She muttered as the leaf shadow swallowed her up.