“This will be a very tough journey,” the knight states, “I'll be sure to be careful.”

Tarvus smiles. “You know what's a good way to stay healthy while venturing through the fog, dark knight?”

“What?” Atticus replies, partly expecting a useful secret.

“Food!” Tarvus exclaims. “Lots of food! So, what do you want?”

“I won't be buying much right now.” Atticus says, after being surprised by the bulky man's change in demeanor. “I'm waiting until morning to start.”

“Either way, you need something in your stomach so you can have those precious vitamins and minerals to absorb while you sleep. Go on, pick something.” Tarvus swings his arm to his library of groceries, practically introducing them to the knight.

“Well, I'll take three apples, two peaches, and two potatoes then.”

Tarvus begins picking out the selected items and placing them in a fresh burlap sack. “Three apples, two peaches, and two potatoes. Oh, we have bottles of cold milk back in the kitchen, by the way. Would you like one?”

“Yes, please.”

“Alright.” Tarvus turns and yells to one of the girls serving food. “Dana!”

A young, pretty girl with tan skin and dark hair answers. “Yes, sir?”

“Go to the back and fetch me a bottle of milk, would you, dear?”

“Yes, sir!” She nods and immediately walks through the door leading to the kitchen.

“That'll be nine copper.” Tarvus says to the knight while placing the sack of food at the counter. Atticus grabs the coin purse tied to his hip, and pays the needed amount.

Dana returns from the kitchen and hands the corked bottle of milk to Tarvus. “Here you are, sir.”

“Thank you, darling.” Tarvus takes it, sets it on the counter, and the girl resumes her serving duties. The large man continues, “Keep the sack for when you return and purchase more food. The milk bottle can be reused as well. It's two pints, and I can fill it with any other drink you wish to order and you can take it to go.”

“I'll keep that in mind.” Atticus replies while grabbing his milk and groceries. “Thank you for the food.”

“You're welcome. Do come again.” Tarvus bids farewell and Atticus nods and leaves the tavern.

Outside, he decides to pay a visit to his mare at the stable. Walking past another gate leading to a yard behind the stable owner's hut, one can see that the horses find themselves in a similar situation as the Mistwalkers staying at the inn: cramped somewhat closely in small stalls and given little room to breathe and roam. Atticus momentarily second-guesses letting his horse stay here, but there isn't much room elsewhere in this stuffed, makeshift base of operations. Upon finding his horse's stall, Atticus approaches her with one of the apples he purchased mere minutes ago, cuts it into large pieces, and holds them out to her one by one. She happily accepts it.

“That's your mare?” Atticus hears a feminine voice from his side. He turns and sees a young woman – late teens, maybe past that – with light brown hair and green eyes, wearing a dirtied long skirt.

“Yes.” The knight responds casually. “Are you with the family that owns the stable?”

“Indeed.” The young woman nods with an accompanying smile. “My name is Edith Hollis. My little brother mentioned a knight in scary armor earlier when he brought that mare over. I assume that must be you?”

“It is. Thank you for looking after her.”

“You're welcome. I fed her as soon as I settled her into her stall.” Edith takes a few steps closer to the knight and stall while admiring the horse. “She beautiful. What's her name?”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

“Annaliese.” Atticus reponds while gently stroking the mare's neck. “I've had her for several years now.”

“She seems young and healthy. Or at least, she has a healthy appetite.” Edith announces while looking to the ground inside the stall. “I gave her quite a generous pile of hay and it looks like she's already devoured most of it.”

Atticus looks at the corner of the stall and sees the remnants of the hay pile she's referring to. “She is quite the eater, but thankfully she's not picky.” The knight's attention is suddenly drawn to some energetic neighing coming from the set of stalls on the opposite end of the yard. There's a separate group of horses over there, some without saddles.

“Those are horses whose owners have died on the other side of the wall.” Edith dejectedly reveals. “Sometimes they make it back on their own, other times they're brought back by other Mistwalkers.”

“What do you do with them?”

“If their owner had next of kin listed on their form, we send the horse to them. If not, then we strip the horse of their saddles and leftover equipment and sell them to breeders, farmers, and third-party stables.” She lets out a small sigh. “We've gone through hundreds of horses that way in the few months we've been here. My father and older sister are escorting a big group of orphaned horses down south as we speak. When they come back, they'll be doing it again with that group over there.”

“That sounds very tiresome.” The knight honestly remarks.

“It is. They're rarely home because of it, and those horses over there are the ones who made it back. Like with Mistwalkers, horses have a very high death rate on the other side.” Edith hangs her head and woefully examines the ground before her. “I don't know what manner of beasts or horrors lie in the mist, but they'll kill anything and everything they see.”

Atticus turns his head to his faithful mare Annaliese, and quietly reconsiders bringing her with him tomorrow. He would hate to risk losing her, but traveling by foot isn't practical, as he has a lot of ground to cover beyond the barrier, as well as equipment and food he'll need help carrying. Of course, Annaliese is no stranger to risk, but this is something different entirely. Along with his armor, sword, and shield, she is part of what remains of his past life; a life that he might have left behind, but not one he wishes to forget.

As he stares into the eyes of his four-legged companion, he can almost sense a silent determination coming from her, as if she knows what's going to happen and is willing to face the potential consequences of their journey. She's never shown any reluctance in the face of danger before, and she isn't showing any now.

After a quiet, thoughtful moment, Edith continues. “Have you been beyond the wall yet?”

“No, I haven't.” The knight answers with a shake of his head. “I begin tomorrow.”

“I guess you're planning to take her with you, huh?” The young woman gestures with her eyes by glancing to the dark mare.

“...Yes.” Atticus answers, but not immediately.

“Well, I know it probably doesn't mean much from someone you just met, but I hope you both return safe and sound.” Edith offers a sincere, kind smile.

“Thank you. We will.” The black-clad knight expresses his gratitude with one confident nod.

“Well, if you'll excuse me, I need to tend to some of the horses. Have a good evening.” The young green-eyed farm girl flashes another smile and timidly walks past the knight, who silently enters the stall to retrieve the saddlebag sitting on the ground that houses his modest tent. He caresses his equine comrade one final time before leaving the stable.

The sun begins to hide itself behind the western horizon, and as Atticus crosses the once-green dirt path to reach the yard behind the inn, he hears the familiar beating of large hooves against the ground. He turns to face the massive, slightly open gate leading to the dangerous abyss, and watches a group of five mounted Mistwalkers return from their sortie. Upon closer inspection, he spots a figure at the rear of the group that he can recall seeing earlier in the day: the presumed mage in a dark crimson hood.

His stare works its way down to the robed person's hands, where an arcane bracelet can be seen on their right wrist – the tool of choice for practitioners of magic. This person's bracelet had two red stones embedded into it, signifying an adept user of the most basic pyromancy. When he saw the group that afternoon, he assumed they were ill-prepared due to their lack of proper equipment, but with the inclusion of a mage, the knight seems to have been mistaken. Four of the warriors casually trot past Atticus to enter the stable and allow their horses to rest for the night, but the fifth – the mage – spots the dark knight and for the first time, for about a single second, their gazes lock. Atticus earlier assumed by the mage's stature, which was smaller than the other individuals they were with, that she was a woman; and he was correct.

For that short second, he saw a feminine face; a young one, likely no older than twenty years. He saw short, shaggy auburn hair with long bangs that could cover her eyes if they weren't brushed aside. He saw striking blue eyes that exuded a firm sense of resoluteness. After the second was over, their gazes ceased their lock on one another, and the mage rode on. Though he couldn't see the finer details of her face due to lack of time, Atticus could tell she was quite the beauty; seemingly too prim and proper for this hazardous, hands-on work, but he didn't assume to know her circumstances. He simply heard that mages don't make their way out here too often.

With his simple, single-person tent in hand, Atticus went to the camping area behind the inn and set himself up for the night in his own isolated corner of the yard, where he ate a light meal of fruit and potatoes and patiently waited for his usual bedtime to drift to sleep.