The Mistwalkers' first night sleeping in an area that's not fortified or protected by the Legion thankfully goes without disruption, both for them and their horses. In the following morning, they rise early enough to catch the beginning of sunlight illuminating the land. They all eat a small but serviceable breakfast of foods they brought with them from Terrance before collecting their bedrolls, reequipping their weapons and armor, and re-saddling their horses.
“So, how far are we going today?” Kellar asks while tightening his thick leather armor chest piece. “There's a couple small villages on our way for the next forty or so miles.”
“I checked the map a few minutes ago.” Veros answers, strapping his scabbard around his waist. “The first is only about sixteen miles north, which is too close for us to stay at. The second is about twenty-two miles after that – Kildare. That's where we'll stay.”
“So by the end of the day,” Royd chimes in after swallowing a bite of his morning apple, “we'll be less than one hundred miles from Armasstadt. What an unbelievable thought. I feel like we've had a somewhat easy journey so far.”
“Well, don't fuckin' jinx it, genius.” Kellar snaps at the woodcutter. “And 'easy'? Are you nuts? Did you forget Levinburg? Or the big bastard we fought before Rosemont?”
“I'm just saying I expected a few more closes calls, is all.” Royd responds with a shrug. “I'm glad we made it this far unscathed, and I hope this pattern continues.”
“I think the fact that we're traveling in a larger-than-average party helps a bit.” Veros comments on the subject. “From what I've heard, teams usually stay at round three or four, occasionally five. Though it's usually the looters who stay in such small numbers so findings are split in fewer ways.”
Kellar scoffs. “Then they fall into the trap of convincin' themselves to travel further north when they find nothin' of value closer to the barrier, like I was sayin' to myself not too long ago. Either way, let's not count our chickens before they hatch, alright? Things could still get messy in these last couple days.”
“Fair point.” Veros concedes as he slings his bow across his back. “We shouldn't get complacent just because we're getting close to our goal.”
Before they depart, Atticus undoes the chains keeping the front double doors shut and opens them just enough for him to walk through, peering out into the foggy open of the northern section of Arrenstead. Standing a few steps out into the grey wilderness, he turns around to examine the entire perimeter, eyeing the misty wall surrounding the barn. He notices no shady figures, threatening shapes, or advancing silhouettes. However, before he returns to the interior of the barn, a faint sound is heard – echoes of distant stomps similar to the sound of horse hooves slamming against the ground at a regular pace. It grows more and more imperceptible until it's gone entirely. Perplexed, and with little reason or method to pursue the source of the eerie noise, he returns inside the barn.
“Anything out there?” Veros asks.
“No, nothing.” The knight shakes his head, but a tinge of confusion is still clear on his face. “But I heard a sound off in the distance.”
“Of what?”
“Sounded like a horse sprinting away.” Atticus explains, but he isn't positive if that really was the cause of the noise.
“I heard a sound like that yesterday.” Zyra adds suddenly. “While we were still on our way to Arrenstead, I could've sworn I heard the sound of a horse running somewhere in the distance, but I couldn't see anything behind the mist.”
“That's odd.” Veros furrows his brow and considers the statements of his two teammates. “I highly doubt any wild horses would still be around, and if it were another Mistwalker, I can't imagine why they wouldn't be on the road.”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Hey.” Kellar chimes in with a worried frown. “If Zyra heard it yesterday, and Atticus heard it just now, then wouldn't it mean it's following us? That Misha girl from Terrance mentioned encountering an undead rider.”
“The little evidence we have right now does support that theory, unfortunately.” The veteran admits with a frustrated sigh. “But we shouldn't jump to conclusions, or go out of our way to search for a fight. We'll stick to making our way north like usual, but we'll keep our eyes and ears open.”
“You sure it's okay to let whatever it is keep skulkin' along in the mist, stalkin' us?” The rogue inquires with increasing paranoia.
“If we wander off the road to look for it, we'd only make things more difficult for ourselves.” Veros sternly orders. “In fact, that could be what it wants. We'd be sitting ducks caught in a panic without the guidance of the road. We need to stay patient and aware.”
Kellar sighs and concedes with a shrug, quietly agreeing that being passive is ultimately the best idea for now.
Veros continues. “Now, if everyone's all set to leave, then we can continue north before we burn more daylight.”
With everyone requipped and all the horses resaddled, the Mistwalkers finally decide to depart Arrenstead and proceed with their journey to Armasstadt, which grows closer by the day. Now, with a potential threat looming over them – the source of the ominous horse gallops, which has yet to reveal itself – the group isn't granted any respite from the possibility of more dangerous encounters.
Traveling in the same formation they've established yesterday, the first few miles of the day's ride is tame and uneventful, but trees have started to become more common, becoming taller and thicker as they progress northward.
“Are we coming upon another forest?” Atticus, unfamiliar with the land, asks Veros.
“We are.” The veteran answers. “It's not terribly dense, but the treeline doesn't help our visibility much for trying to see things beyond the roadside.”
The knight furrows his brow, contemplative of the potential consequences that riding through a forest might bear for them. “You know,” he begins, “if we were to be ambushed, then some distance into the forest would be the best place to do it.”
“I'm aware.” Veros responds bluntly. “But it's not like we have much of a choice. We can't abandon the road and wander into the trees.”
Atticus quietly acknowledges the truth in the statement. The last time the group traveled through a forest was around Levinburg, which had treelines that were nigh impenetrable. However, it was also some days ago, when the mist wasn't as thick, either. With no alternative way to avoid any dangers on the road, the group stays the path.
A few more hours of quiet, alert riding passes, and they've long since entered the forest proper. Trees of varying size line the side of the road, with even more trees beyond them. As usual, no sounds or signs of life can be heard from the foliage despite the density. The total lack of any encounters with hostiles since leaving Arrenstead strikes the group as an oddity which could be a blessing that has fallen upon them due to traveling at the right time, or an ill omen. They soon come across a wooden sign on the road, reading 'RODARE, TWO MILES'. Veros holds his hand up to stop the group.
“We're approaching the first village of the two we'll be coming across today.” He announces. “When we get there, we'll do the usual clearing procedure.”
“Hold on a second.” Kellar interrupts. “We haven't seen a single undead all morning. Doesn't this strike you as a bit weird? Aren't they supposed to be more common up here?”
“Trust me, I've noticed.” Veros responds with a matter-of-fact tone. “It's a bit ominous, but we can't afford to deviate from our usual process because we've grown anxious. Our options are limited. I don't know how many more times I can word that.”
“Look, all I'm sayin' is that I think we're walkin' into somethin' bad.” The rogue tries to clarify his position. “I just want us to discuss what we're gonna do when it happens. I don't want to walk into that village without some sense of solidarity, here.”
The veteran sighs. “Well, there's not much we can do aside from stick to our formation. I'm very aware that this forest would be an ideal spot for some sort of ambush, but I can't begin to know when and where it would happen.”
“Alright.” Kellar nods, content with acknowledgement that an ambush is likely to happen. “So, when an ambush occurs, what then? How do we stand our ground?”
“Atticus and I cover the front of the party, and you and Royd cover the rear, as usual.” Veros answers with the speculative knowledge he has of this hypothetical battle. “Depending on the enemy's numbers, we might need to force our way forward rather than risk a prolonged fight.”
“How do we push forward if we don't want to risk injuring the horses?”
“I think I know a spell that can help with that.” Atticus interjects with his own suggestion. “It won't necessarily clear a path, but it will make it easier to escape.”
“Well, alright.” Kellar nods, now much calmer than he was when the discussion happened. He takes a deep breath to steel his nerves. “Okay, let's go.” He urges the team forward.