Arn awoke before his father. The dream was still fresh in his mind. It was the same place each time, and he wondered what that meant. However, the latest dream felt heavier to Arn, as though something pressed down upon him and dimmed the twilight world.

Would his father know anything about it? Perhaps he could ask. But, knowing Atrel, Arn worried what such a talk might drudge up. If his father heard anything of Rana or De'al, he'd want to turn back. I know he would, Arn thought - I'll have to wait until the Capital, no going back from there.

A wave of nausea washed over him as Arn remembered last night's argument. He felt guilt creep up into his mind - why do I always do this?

Atrel stirred and quickly got up from bed. He didn't say a word to Arn except inviting him down to the tavern for breakfast. Arn took that as a reconciliatory gesture, and his heart lightened.

The tension slowly lifted as they ate, and his father talked of the supplies they'd need to get later and the horse they'd need to take from the stables.

The courtyard looked quite different in the morning. The sun was just on its way up, and a warm haze hung all around. Few people were out now, unlike the crowds of last night. The market stalls stood empty and covered, and only the horses at the stables were as awake as ever. They whinnied and neighed in their enclosures. Arn watched one of the stable boys struggle with a particularly obstinant horse.

Halfway through the courtyard, Arn heard a loud croak; his father didn't seem to notice or pay it any mind. But Arn turned around. Three ravens sat atop the eastern turret, croaking and cawing, flying up and landing again. Their forms seemed hazy, insubstantial - he figured that it was some trick of the light.

"Arn, you'll need to get us a pack mule," his father said. Arn nearly bumped into him while walking, distracted by the ravens as he was. "Are you alright?" his father asked.

"Yes," Arn said, rubbing his shoulder. "I just, do you see the ravens over there?" he pointed at the turret, but the ravens were now gone. "Oh, they're gone," he said, confused.

"Ravens? No, I don't see any ravens - what are you talking about?" Before Arn could reply, his father waved his hand, "forget the ravens - will you get the pack mule from the stables?"

"They were just there, three of them," Arn said, still frowning at the distant turret.

"Focus, Arn, focus! There are no ravens, not now at any rate - we need to move, will you get the pack mule or not?" his father spoke, though now impatiently.

"Yes, yes, fine, I'll get the mule."

"Your own token should suffice, but let them know we're headed to the Southern Outpost. While you do that, I will get the supplies. Stay with the mule. I will find you. Got it?"

"Got it."

Atrel watched Arn for a moment, then frowned and left to the quartermaster. Arn glanced at the turret again; one of the ravens had returned. So now you're there, he mumbled, thanks for making me seem unhinged. The raven cawed softly. Arn flinched - is it talking to me? No, no, the mule, focus, Arn. Just as he turned, someone grabbed his arm. He looked up, heart thumping, but it was only Thoard.

"What?" he asked, sharper than he intended.

"Passcode."

"What do you want from me? I said nothin-"

"Tell me the passcode."

Arn thought of the phrase from last night, and it floated up to his consciousness. He spoke it somewhat slower this time. Once more aware of its vague meaning, but not quite able to formulate it into a thought.

Thoard narrowed his glassy eyes, though the gesture was so slight that Arn wasn't sure he'd actually seen it.

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

"Fine, good," Thoard said, still watching Arn intently.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Keep repeating the phrase every day. You will need it to contact him."

"I don't even know what it means."

"It's a passcode, don't forget it."

"I know it's a passcode, but what -"

"The Inspectorate has increased presence in the valley," Thoard interrupted.

"I didn't do anything!"

Thoard looked around them, then smiled at Arn, though it never reached the man's eyes, "yes, I know. they're here for Rana."

A chill ran up his spine. Rana? Why would they be here for Rana? "But, they have Rana, right? They had her."

Thoard stepped closer, "keep your voice down," he said. "Yes, they did have her."

"Did have her?"

The man scoffed, "she escaped," he dismissed Arn's reaction with a wave. "There is no reason to think she can find you or would want to find you. Just keep your eyes open."

"If she doesn't want to find me, then why are you telling me this? And who walks around with closed eyes? What does 'keep your eyes open' mean?" Arn's patience for this man was at an end. Inspectorate warden or not.

Thoard stepped even closer and grabbed Arn's shoulder. "Don't misunderstand me, boy," he hissed, "It is but a courtesy to you, in honour of his favour upon you. I am still an Inspectorate warden, so mind your insolent tongue."

Once more, Arn saw a spark flare and then disappear in Thoard's eyes. Up close like this, the man was much more intimidating, and the emptiness of the courtyard suddenly dawned on Arn. He put his hand on Thoard's and pushed it away, but the man resisted, "do you understand me?" he hissed.

"Yes!" Arn whispered. A bead of sweat ran down his temple.

Thoard looked him over, then released him. The man turned around and hurried off towards one of the Fort's gates. Arn took deep breaths to steady himself. Something wasn't right about Thoard - though maybe it is the way all wardens were, for he'd never spoken or seen one before.

The stablemaster didn't ask too many questions, and upon checking Arn's token, called one of the stable boys and had him provide Arn with a pack mule. He soon stood next to a very stocky and hairy mule, whose name was 'Old Lady,' as it turned out. The mule was much more at ease than Arn himself.

Rana wouldn't look for him, would she? Arn wondered as he waited by the animal. Ossagar told him that there she had many other prisoners, and how would she find him anyway? He reminded himself that Ossagar found him - but Ossagar was a captain at the Inspectorate.

Arn waited by Old Lady for almost an hour before his father returned. He carried several large packs, which he secured on the mule.

"Did they give you any trouble?" he asked Arn.

"No, no one asked anything. This is Old Lady, by the way."

"Who?" his father asked while checking the straps and clasps of the supplies.

"The mule, her name is Old Lady."

"Oh," he said.

They led Old Lady back to the courtyard and out the northern gate through which the Hillside way continued north towards distant mountains. Several other people left with them, though they walked slower and were soon left behind.

Arn looked back at the Old Fort as they walked, it shrunk with every glance until they descended some hills, and the Fort was no longer visible.

His father pointed out plants and trees by the road, insisting that herb lore was crucial on long journeys. Arn only half-listened; his mind was still on Thoard's words. Rana escaped. The Inspectorate was in the area - which likely meant that she could also be in the area.

But the Yisaor Foothills were vast. She wouldn't be able to find him here. No, she would wait at the Southern Pass, he realized with horror. They were likely walking into her hands. But the Inspectorate would be there too, wouldn't they?

"Arn!" his father yelled.

"What? What?" Arn looked around.

"It seems I've been speaking to myself, for though my son is walking with me, his mind wonders elsewhere."

"Sorry, I - it's getting cold!" Arn shivered, suddenly aware of the chilly wind.

His father shook his head. "Yes, it is. We'll soon begin our climb to the Shield Tower, the Yisaor Foothills are behind us, and the Legs are ahead. It will only get colder."

"The Legs?"

"That's what they call the foothills before the mountain pass," Atrel said.

"But that isn't the point - you need to channel you Esarel through the travel charm. It will warm you up."

"Really?" Arn said, reaching with his hand to the charm hanging from his belt. "How?"

"It's an old technique. Focus on the chill that you feel, and try to warm yourself up, but instead of your Tjoreal or your own body, send the Esarel into the charm."

Arn followed his father's instructions and felt a slow warmth build up all around his body, emanating from the core and washing through him in waves. To his surprise, even after he stopped, the charm maintained the flow of energy on its own, though it was barely a trickle. He looked at his father in surprise.

"Well, Elar'Saga be my witness. You are too fast with all this," his father said and shook his head, an expression of pride and surprise on his face. "With the charm, you will keep warm for quite some time. It's one of the many things it helps with."

"That is amazing!" Arn exclaimed, and for the first time in days, he felt light, and the warmth that spread through his body brought with it comfort and joy. His previous thoughts were held at bay for now, and even his father's comments about the plants no longer seemed quite as dull.