Arn and his father packed their supplies onto one of the Yaelen Luel horses. A large leather pouch hung from either side of the animal and was strapped with a number of thick belts. Each of the prized horses was given to a group of three - so they had to wait for someone to join their duo. In the end, it was a family of four - two parents and two children.

Their group received two of the horses, and Arn waited for the others to load up theirs.

Calling the Yaelen Luel horses didn't quite describe them. Each stood a head taller than an average horse, and their coat was so white that it shone in the light. Their stocky, muscular bodies appeared even larger due to the thick fur. To Arn's eyes, they looked like a mix between a horse and a polar bear, minus the claws and fangs. Eventually, one of the horses noticed his stare, and their eyes met. Arn could have sworn that the horse knew what he was thinking; its expression could almost be compared to a snicker, then the horse snorted loudly. Arn jumped away.

"You alright?" his father asked.

"Yeah," Arn said, still looking at the horse. "Can they, do they understand people?"

Atrel chuckled, "could be, I don't know. Why, what did it do?"

"Nothing. Doesn't matter."

The other family finally finished their packing, and the stableman led them out of the Ar'Thorsan tower to the very edge of the Ahotharo Pass.

The stableman looked to be at least twenty years older than Arn's father. Bushy white brows contrasted sharply with his leathery skin, and his moustache hung well beneath the chin. He glared at them disapprovingly. His eyes lingered on the mother with her baby, and he clicked his tongue.

"Listen up," he bellowed, though the silence of morning didn't require such volume. The man adjusted a thick belt over his woollen coat.

"I don't like sending off unprepared people into the pass," he growled, his gaze once more lingering upon the mother. "You can imagine how crappy of a morning I'm having thanks to the lot of you!"

The other family stirred, but their father shushed them. Arn himself was irritated, but when he glanced at his father, he saw a twinkle in the man's eyes. This has to be some sort of an act, he realized.

"The pass is a bad place for a family picnic," the stableman said, "do not, under any circumstances, stray off the road - unless you want to become bear droppings."

"We know how to follow a road, old man," the woman with the baby said. Arn noted her unfamiliar accent.

"Oh!" the stableman exclaimed, "oh, you do, do you?"

The woman only scowled in response.

"I'll just let the local Ranger know to keep an eye for some bones," he said, then looked at her baby, "very, very tiny bones."

The woman gasped, but he continued before she said anything. "You will listen to me," he nearly yelled, "the tower will be held accountable for your idiocy, and I don't want to answer to the council because of the likes of you."

"Hey, Alek, why don't we move along here," Arn's father said.

The man glanced at him, then smiled. "Atrel, why do you keep coming back here? I'm tired of seeing you around. You're messing up my tough act!"

"I'll keep an eye on everyone. You have my word."

"Well, if you say so," the old man sighed. He then looked back at the other family. "The Yaelen Luel know what to do, follow them. They know the way to the northern outpost and the way back. Stick with the horses. Got it?"

His words were greeted with murmurs and shuffling. The old man shook his head. "They're all yours," he said to Atrel, then walked back to the outpost.

Several arduous hours later, the small group crested yet another of the many ascending hills along the path. A steep rockface rose ominously to the of their twelve-foot wide road. The drop to the right wasn't as steep - I'd probably survive the fall with only a few broken bones, Arn mused.

The family lagged behind, parents often bickering among themselves though their voices were too muffled to hear.

"They're taking a baby through the pass?" Arn whispered to his father.

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"We all have reasons beyond our control."

"But - a baby!"

"I'm sure they have a good reason."

"Why would - "

"Enough, son," his father said abruptly, "don't whisper when we're with company."

"Fine," Arn replied. He glanced back at the family, who slowly ascended yet another hill. The mother was having a particularly tough time carrying the baby - she stumbled, her husband quickly caught her arm. Then, he said something which Arn couldn't quite make out. He recalled the unusual accent the woman had earlier.

"What is that language he just spoke?" Arn asked his father.

"The old tongue," his father replied. He then stopped and looked back.

"We should wait a little and perhaps slow down. Can't skip ahead like that, not in these parts."

"The old tongue? Isn't that for charms and scrolls?" Arn held up his travel charm with the letters he couldn't read.

"They speak it still in Kahos - it's an island across the Samaroan Sea," Atrel looked at Arn with a frown, "don't ask me more about it while we're near the family."

"Why not?"

"It's impolite."

"Why is everything impolite?"

"Just do as I ask, Arn. This isn't the time," his father's voice grew stern, making Arn reconsider his line of questioning. Atrel was in his serious mood, which Arn saw seldom but knew to respect - at a distance, if possible.

"We can load some of your packs onto the horses," Atrel said to the family once they were in earshot.

"The land shall keep us," the man replied, then brought up a pendant and kissed it.

"The path is narrow and difficult. The horses know it well. That is what they are for," Arn's father insisted.

"Sar thorsan dar Kahasar," the other man muttered under his breath, "Sir, please look for your own. We are of the land." The man then turned to his wife and whispered something inaudibly.

Arn was sure it was in the old tongue, which he wouldn't understand at any rate. Atrel kept his frown but let the matter drop. The horses clearly had a good deal of room for additional supplies, but the family insisted on carrying their own.

The pattern continued for the rest of the day. Arn and his father moved ahead, stopped to wait, then the family caught up. They never did introduce themselves or say anything beyond the necessary.

They huddled together during meals, ate and spoke in whispers which Arn could neither hear nor understand.

The group reached Mount Sentinel around evening. The sun had just touched the mountain tops casting blue and violet shadows over the ground. The two massive ridges towered on either side, with black rocks visible under the white snow. Few trees grew in the pass itself though they saw the Aaro Forest to the west earlier in their journey. His father stopped again and turned around.

"We'll stop at the first camps beyond the mountain," he said after the family caught up once again.

"Of this path, I made many travels," the man said, "another camp lies ahead. We stop there."

"We won't make it before nightfall - do you want to walk here during the dark?" Atrel said and motioned around them.

"I travelled of this path and was of the second camp less the night!" the man insisted. The man's face screwed up in a stubborn expression, and his hands planted on his waist.

"You probably didn't travel with two children, one of whom is a baby!"

"This child is of yours!"

"Arn isn't a child!" Atrel snapped, "you have a baby!" he pointed at the man's wife.

"Of my protection, not of your mind," the man proclaimed and folded his arms. "We stop of second camp, now go!"

Arn saw the struggle on his father's face. Atrel looked ahead and seemed to be making mental calculations. He then took out a light emitter - almost the same as the one at the archives - and gave it to Arn.

"You know how to use this?"

Arn shook his head.

"Just like the firestarter," Atrel said, "do it once it's dark." Once Arn took the device Atrel stormed off to walk a short way ahead. 'This was supposed to be for emergencies, but perhaps having fools for companions is an emergency," Arn heard his father mumble and had to stifle a laugh.

They reached the second camp well after sundown and would likely have fallen down the hill to their right without the extra light from the emitter. The blueish light cast everything an eerie monochrome - the trees, snow, clothes - all various shades of blue. Only the distant sky remained pitch black.

The baby began crying nearly an hour before the camp, no attempts to quiet it worked. Atrel watched grumpily as the family settled by the firepit. He clearly expected them to light the fire.

Arn's father finally snapped and nearly threw the firestarter at Arn, who was only too eager to practice using his Esarel once more. The embers were soon lit and radiated heat, and though the fire wasn't as bright as their previous camps, the heat was much more intense. Arn wondered at that.

"It's Emberwood," Atrel said, "very rare, but can't abide without it at the pass, we would all freeze to death in our sleep," he added and looked at the family, who were ignoring them both now that there was a heat source. "Turn off the light emitter," his father said, then started walking off.

"Of where do you go?" the man asked.

"Setting up a perimeter, we're too close to Aaros Woods. There are wild animals," his father replied.

"We are of the land -"

"You'll be under the land," he barked and disappeared in the dark.

The family whispered indignantly among themselves though they pointedly avoided looking at Arn. He'd never seen anyone rile his father quite this much - anyone that wasn't a family member, that is. The second child was a young boy who was watching Arn intently. He had dark brown eyes, nearly black, and his skin was white as snow. Arn looked at his own hand, which was somewhat darker, like all other people he'd seen.

Suddenly the woman noticed her son looking at Arn and pulled his arm. Her eyes were very dark as well. He'd never seen eyes like that before. Most of the people of Nysaros, and of Kalarhan too, had eyes some shade of violet. Some were brighter, others a bit dimmer. His own were bright violet, but he'd never seen pure dark eyes before. Not even at the Old Fort earlier.

His father returned shortly, though his time away didn't do much to dissipate his foul mood. Thankfully the man from the other family picked up on it and spoke no words for the rest of the night.