Hildesman awoke early, but was only mildly surprised that when he came out of his bedroom, he found Mister Walthers already up and packed for the trip. Trappers rose early as a general rule. He nodded to the other man.

"Let me grab a two day kit real quick and we can go see what Brother Thestle found for us. There's some dried meat in the cupboard above the burner if you need to replenish your rations. Some oats, few other things up there too. Help yourself."

Mister Walters opened the cupboard and rummaged around while Hildesman grabbed his smaller pack and began loading his tools and weapons into it. His good steambow still had Brother Davvis's special regulator in it, but his spare was in decent repair. He grabbed a few cartridges. He left his black powder rifle in the locker, pulling out instead a long barreled pistol. His bolter rode on his hip, as always.

When he had all his weapons accounted for, he went and grabbed four days worth of rations for himself. Mister Walthers had taken some of the meat and dried fruit, and Hildesman cleared the rest of the meat into his bag. Hopefully next time he was in town, he would have time to restock his pantry; he didn't usually leave on this many expeditions so quickly after one another.

"You got city-locks for your weapons?" He asked Mister Walthers, holding up a couple of the safety locks. With the proper permits, they weren't strictly necessary, but it made things easier getting through the gates.

Mister Walters, in turn, lifted the barrel of his own steambow, a heavier model than Hildesman's. Its battery port and cartridge chamber were both blocked by city-locks. Hildesman nodded in acknowledgement.

"Alright. I'm ready."

The campus was much the same as their last trip. Few brothers or sisters were outside, and the ones that were patrolled with wary eyes and loaded weapons. Hildesman went straight to the building where they had met with Brother Thestle.

The young woman was posted to guard duty again. Hildesman nodded slightly to her as he approached. The guard with the temper problem was not in her squad this morning, for which Hildesman was grateful.

"Morning, trapper," the guardswoman greeted him in a professional tone. "Same business as before?"

"After a fashion. After we met with him yesterday, Brother Thestle told me he would leave word with the guard station. Did he leave any messages with you?"

"Not with me, but my shift just started up again," she responded. Turning slightly behind her. "Harold?"

The man to whom she was speaking was already reaching into his shirt pocket for a small envelope. "Yeah, he dropped it off midshift last night. Here," he said, passing the note up to the guardswoman. She checked the seal, flaring a small flash of light from her tattoos at it, then passed it to Hildesman.

"Hope it's good news," she offered as Hildesman broke the seal on the envelope. Inside were two sheets of paper.

"Thanks," Hildesman replied. "And thank you for hearing us out, last night. I never asked your name."

"Sister Daniella Morgan," she extended her left hand; the one without a weapon strapped to it. Hildesman shook it. "Aaron Hildesman, still. But properly introduced this time. You ever need any wilderness work done, look me up. I owe you. Thanks again, Sister Morgan."

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"Don't mention it," Sister Morgan answered. Pleasantries exchanged, Hildesman and Mister Walthers nodded their goodbyes and set out towards the Northgate. It wasn't a long walk. Once they got on the main road, Hildesman unfolded the two sheets of paper.

There was a seal in glittering wax on one of them. Glasspetal shards, most likely. It was of a heavier paper than the second, and it seemed to be a simple approval for passage for Hildesman and Mister Walthers.

The other one was a short message from Brother Thestle.

Trapper Hildesman,

I have investigated the claims of Mister Walthers and I am reasonably certain that he is who he says he is. If he wishes to go see his niece, I will endorse it personally. See the enclosed permit allowing both of you exit from and re-entry to the city.

A word of warning, though: my Brothers and Sisters on the wall have reported a drastic increase in encounters with Exiles. As yet, no blood has been spilled, but footprints are thick on the ground. Use caution when you travel to Missus Fennickken's home.

Happy returns and safe walls,

Brother Gane Thestle, Junior Third Administrator.

Hildesman grunted. Mister Walters, walking beside him, tilted his head slightly.

"I should be able to get you to your niece by nightfall," Hildesman explained, passing the note and the permit over for Mister Walthers to read. "Provided we can find a safe path. Tomorrow morning, maybe, if we have to hide our tracks."

"I..." Mister Walthers hesitated, taking a deep breath. He handed the pages back to Hildesman. "Thank you, Mister Hildesman. Thank you for helping my niece. And thank you for helping me to reach her."

"Please, don't mention it," Hildesman responded.

---

Exiting the city was a simple enough endeavor. Hildesman used his lift pass, so they wouldn't have to wait for a gate patrol to let them out. Mister Walthers was still nervous around the wall guards, and they recognized it. Hildesman managed to smooth it over with a short explanation that Mister Walthers was unaccustomed to the city. The permit, signed and sealed by a Third Administrator, also helped.

Once on the ground, Hildesman started off in the rough direction of Teach's place. The first couple miles were thin enough to see most of the way across, before the forest really started to be the forest. Still, footprints churned the dirt in loose tracks, all weaving towards the lift. Merchants with smaller caravans would often pay for the lift service. Though such were becoming rarer, ever since the dirigible freighters started their lines a couple decades back. Still, dirigibles were expensive, and not every merchant had an empire that could afford them.

More surprising was the trail he and Mister Walthers found once the forest started to be properly forest. Only trappers tended to walk through the nature tracks instead of the carefully cut roads. But here they were, at least a half-dozen people. It looked as though they had walked up to the edge of the forest, milled around for a while, and turned around and went back the way they came.

"Odd. Must be those Exiles. Why are they just walking up and staring at the wall?" Hildesman mused, as Mister Walters examined the other end of the small cluster.

"Not sure, but I think we should take care to go around them," Mister Walters said, kneeling down to examine one of the prints.

"Agreed. Exiles usually don't want to kill you or steal your stuff just for being there, but I don't know this group."

"More than that. Here," Mister Walters lifted aside a leafy branch, pointing at the ground. Hildesman went over and looked at it closely. "No," he muttered. "That's impossible."

"And yet," Mister Walthers answered, "It's here."

Hildesman stared at the print for a long moment, then turned to look at where the trail had gone. He found another. And another. They were deeper than the bootprints, which made sense. But he was pretty sure they weren't any older. Five pads, each with a claw, arranged evenly in a circle.

Whoever these people were, they were traveling with a direwolf. And for some reason, it wasn't attacking them.

In the back of Hildesman's mind, a man's voice laughed. My good man, did you think that opportunity only knocked once? I still need a Champion. You may have slithered your way alongside my last trial, but I think you'll find this one is a little more compelling. I understand you're rather fond of your friend behind her little wall. Now that you're back outside that cursed tomb, we can finally start the game.

"No! Not Fennie!"

Hildesman spun. Mister Walthers looked like he had seen death. After a second his expression settled into a grim resolve.

Hildesman just stared. "You could hear that voice?" He demanded. "What is going on?"