Rolling plains of grass stretched out all the way to the feet of the distant mountains like a pale green carpet. There wasn’t a sign of civilization to be seen. Sarah Wycombe was struck at just how vast and desolate the Southward Expansion was. The weather was mild despite the year’s lateness. She studied the thin river that wound its way across the landscape like a glittering ribbon and bit her lip as she looked down at the map the Marquis’ man had given her.

“I can’t make heads nor tails of this,” she sighed.

It was a clear day, and the visibility was good, but she had no clue as to where she was, or whether the things she was looking at were on the map in her hands. She was unaccustomed to travelling alone, or more accurately, without John, and had taken to talking out loud to herself to feel less lonely.

“I should have had Tom or Stanley teach me a thing or two about map reading,” she sniffed and felt a twinge of guilt.

She hadn’t thought of either of them since they’d left Woodhop and did feel responsible for what happened to the poor halfling. She couldn’t blame the old hunter for storming off. In the end, she had proven him right about being a menace to her companions. Then, her thoughts brought her to John. What was he doing? Did she make the right decision in parting ways? Would he still wait for her?

Sarah brushed away a tear and shook her head. Those thoughts had haunted her during the difficult initial days, and she had hardly slept, spending most of her time weeping. She knew she had to be strong if she was to see him again.

The wind picked up as Sarah studied the map and decided that the river called the Tinor on her map was the one that she was looking at. If it was, all she had to do was follow it east, and it would take her to a village called New Didcup, which was supposed to be her first stop on her search for Findendor.

She meticulously folded the map and pocketed it, knowing that she would be completely lost without it. She took a final look at the sweeping vista before her, and her eyes locked onto some movement far to the southwest. Black shapes were running along the river, following it east. Her blood froze as she recognized their loping gait. They were unmistakably orcish wolf riders, and there were around a dozen of them. They were probably a raiding party. This was the first sign she’d seen of orcs since Corrington. She was supposed to be in the northeastern corner of the Southward Expansion, and she wasn’t expecting to find them here, so close to the border of the human kingdom of Darnos.

Her mind raced. Had they seen her? Probably. Could her horse outrun the orcish dire wolves to New Didcup? It should be able to, easily, according to the books, provided she didn’t get lost along the way. Could she afford to gamble? She frowned at the orcs. They were likely to be going in the same direction and she could not leave the village to their fate. She’d have to warn them. Besides, it was not like she knew another way to Findendor anyway.

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Now that she’d made up her mind, all hesitation was gone, and she spurred her horse down the short rise. The grass was tall and once she reached the bottom of the rise, the river and the orcs disappeared from view. She urged her horse on and soon, they burst out of the grass and were following the river downstream. She looked back over her shoulder and saw no sign of the orcs. Good.

“Come on, Honeycut,” Sarah urged her horse. By her reckoning, she should reach New Didcup sometime the next day. “Run like the very wolves are behind us.”

Sarah paused before adding, “Because they are.”

Her horse snorted, as though put off by her terrible attempt at an inspirational speech but sped up all the same. Sarah looked over her right shoulder at the glittering clear waters of the river. It was shallow and the current slow and meandering. Her eyes widened as she saw black shapes burst out of the tall grass on the far bank. There were another dozen or so orcish wolf riders who had been hidden from her view earlier. Arrows whistled past her head moments later.

“Fire Blast!”

The blue bolt of fire went wild, flying past the orcs before landing in the tall grass beyond. Firing at moving targets while on the move herself was not something she was accustomed to. The orcs veered closer, making their mounts splash through ankle deep water. More arrows bracketed her, closer this time, alarming her horse.

“Fireball!”

The ball of fire landed in the river ahead of the orcs, causing an eruption of water and steam. That bought her some time, and her horse quickly gained ground. The wolves snarled as their riders spurred them on.

Sarah checked the distance to the far bank as an arrow flew over her shoulder. It was just at the limit of her range, but it was the only thing she could think of.

“Fire Wall!”

A thirty foot wide wall of blue fire materialized twenty feet in front of the lead wolf. It whined as it tried to swerve out of the way, but it was running too fast. It yelped and shrieked as it and its rider were consumed by the flames. The other wolves swerved out of the way, further increasing their distance from Sarah.

A glance over her shoulder told her that she had some breathing room now and she reined her horse in a little. She had a rough idea of her mare’s endurance after being together for a week now and wanted to preserve her in case there were any more surprises up ahead.

As the adrenaline faded from her system, something troubled Sarah. How many more orcs were hiding out there? She also had no idea how large New Didcup was. She was comfortable helping defend a small village against a dozen orcs, but she would need some help to deal with any more than that.

In the back of her mind, she feared there was an orcish army lurking somewhere, like the one that had razed New Milford. The survivors had said the army had come out of nowhere. This was their home territory, after all. Then there was the other issue. Had Voritor survived Corrington? John was confident he hadn’t, but she wasn’t so sure.

Sarah took a deep breath and decided to focus her attention on getting to New Didcup. She would ride her horse for as long as she could, knowing that every second would be precious.