Shit ain't right. We should turn back. I can feel it in the rocks. They shake and rumble with an ancient energy that wants to be released.

Robert's plea only reached Ronald and me.

As the rear guard, we had little to any say in the matter.

We had entered the mountain pass three nights before. The winding trail led across gorgeous heights and terrifying lows. In the evening we had stumbled across a precarious edge. I was sent in to check its stability. Within a few steps, it had crumbled and sent me plummeting down onto an edge I narrowly grabbed.

After I pulled myself up and back onto the trail, I was met with only Robert and Ronald waiting for me, as the rest had gone on to check the other route.

We were the disposables.

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It reminded me of my past.

As we walked behind, Ronald continued to fidget with his runed sigel. We were far enough away from the main group that gave him enough assurance to even have it out.

He knew Robert and I didn't like the thing, and more than once had asked him to throw it down into the chasm below, but we also would never rat him out.

A bond had oddly grown between us three.

I, the kid who said little. Robert the retired blacksmith who talked much. And Ronald the pessimistic gypsy that had become enraptured with that little stone of his.

Night hung over the mountain once again. Finding refuge in a cave, we camped for the night.

The air inside was heavy and cold.

I hated this feeling

It was the feeling people give off when they are about to quit or betray one another.

Resting my hand on my dagger, I slept with one eye open.