Dawn breaks on the camp of Garrick and Meetlemire—a few scattered hours of sleep supply Garrick with enough energy for the day ahead.
Kicking dirt over the smouldering campfire, Garrick has a nonchalant look around before looking over to Meetlemire, who is packing his tent. They promptly load everything into the carriage and depart for a long day's travel.
Travelling along the road as it becomes more rocky, a path that has been worn away over the years, directs travellers towards the mountains that, hour by hour, become larger and larger for Garrick and Meetlemire.
"Definitely out of Redwood Forest now." Meetlemire says.
Garrick has his arm stretched out, palm facing towards the darkened sky—a few drops of rain splash against his hand.
"Good thing, too. The carriage would've gotten stuck in the mud. Lucky break for us." Garrick replies, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow.
The rain increases to a drizzle, gradually soaking Garrick and Meetlemir, making for an uncomfortable day's travel. The crevices on the rocky path begin to fill with puddles. As the carriage moves over them, falling slightly into the holes, jostling them as they cling on to the carriage for stability.
An animalistic chitter is heard echoing through the air. Meetlemire halts the carriage immediately, his eyes open wide in fear. Garrick lowers himself to the ground; the wet gravel causes Garrick to slip, but he manages to keep upright.
Garrick points over to an outcrop.
"Guide the carriage over there, Meetle and stay quiet. I'll see what that noise was." Garrick commands while ushering Meetlemire away.
"Be safe, Garrick." Meetle pleads.
Garrick responds with a simple nod.
The rain picks up, crashing heavily against Garrick's body, every drop feeling like a punch. He Moves up the hill for a better vantage point. The chittering echoes again, along with the sound of people's voices. The noise of the rain blocks Garrick from understanding what they're saying, but they sound scared and desperate. Garrick uses his hands to push against the gravel to ascend the steep hill successfully.
At the top, the sounds are given a face, Gnolls. Lumbering monsters that are likened to hyenas. Savage and terrifying to fight, even if their intelligence is lacking, their brawn more than makes up for it.
Three gnolls have trapped what looks like a family of five against a rock, stopping them from escaping. Wails and shouting from the family are piercing the deafening rainfall. Garrick looks on silently but then takes a breath and retreats as the cries turn to screams, blood-curdling agony filling the atmosphere.
Garrick Retreats back down the hill, not wasting time. It won't take the Gnolls long to finish eating the family and turn towards their next prey.
Making it safely back to the carriage, Garrick turns the horse towards the way they came, confusing Meetlemire.
"Is everything okay? Why are we going back the way we came?"
Garrick looks back towards the hill, not seeing any movement.
"Gnolls. We need to double back for a mile or so and find another way." Garrick hurriedly exclaims. "The rain is helping hide our scent, but If it settles, we're in trouble. I can't fight three gnolls at once."
Worry spans Meetle's face as he pulls on the reigns to help turn the horse around.
"The wilderness is getting worse to travel through. Monsters and bandits are getting more confident to attack, even during daylight." Meetle worriedly whimpers.
Meetle guides the carriage on the tracks they made, the rain easing off as they travel.
"The guild is spread thin across the Sovereignty; attacks on the road are the least of their worries. It's why I took as many of those jobs as possible." Garrick replies with disapproval. "But let's hurry up; the rain is dying down."
After thirty minutes of slogging through the mud and gravel, the horse barely pulls the carriage through. Still, they make it to a separate path that forks off away from the Gnolls' path, hopefully safer. They notice a figure in the distance, slowly moving towards them, hunched over.
"Who is that?" Meetle asks while squinting towards the unknown person, too far away to make out any discernible features, especially through the rain.
"Not our problem; we're behind schedule. let's get moving and see if we can make back some of that time, Meetle." Garrick replies authoritatively.
Moving onwards, Garrick can't help but look back towards the person but keeps moving forward. Eventually, his gaze returns to the path ahead.
The rain doesn't let up, having spells of a pesky drizzle and then crashing violent torrents of water and wind that slow them down to a snail's pace.
The overworked horse begins to give up, refusing to move on, signalling its need for rest and shelter from the weather.
"The horse isn't doing well! We need to stop for a while!" Meetle shouts through the slapping rain that rocks him side to side.
Garrick looks upwards toward the sky, seeing the faint colour of the sun masked by the dark clouds still high above.
"Shit. Barely managed six hours of travel, and we already need to stop for the day." Garrick frustratedly says as he wipes the rain from his face and spits out some. "You're right, Meetle. Let's keep going til we find somewhere safe and dry."
Another twenty minutes before Garrick and Meetlemire find somewhere that meets their needs, a cluster of trees nestled against the rocks that block the heavy downpour and thrashing wind with a small recess in the rocks to stay dry.
It was arduous for them, but they managed to manoeuvre the carriage and horse close to the rocks, protected from most of mother nature, good enough for a night's rest.
Meetle and Garrick sit by a small fire, shivering and exhausted.
Meetlemire moves up his sleeve on his missing arm, inspecting the bandages that are now wet. Stress paints his face, worried about potential infections and his wound reopening.
"Do the bandages look okay? I don't know if getting them wet is bad or not."
Garrick looks at the bandages. Although wet, they hold firm, and the blood isn't fresh.
"Don't worry, Meetle. The bandages are still in place, and it doesn't look like you're bleeding. Just try and get it dry and avoid touching it." Garrick confidently tells Meetle, trying to reassure him.
The fire is a welcome treat after the strenuous day they received, the shivering stopping but their bellies groaning loudly.
"A meal is needed right about now, I think." Meetle eagerly proposes.
Garrick nods in agreement while clutching his stomach.
"I'll grab some from the carriage. Throw another bundle of sticks on the fire; it's dying down too much." Garrick responds.
Garrick checks on the horse, which is relatively dry and resting well. The resting spot was a lucky find for them. He walks to the back of the carriage and rummages around for food until a hand is felt on his back.
Startled, Garrick lifts his elbow and spins around, connecting on something. Looking down, he sees the body of Kyra, drenched in water and blood, cold to the touch and unconscious.
"Kyra?! Fuck, FUCK!!" Confused and shocked, Garrick picks Kyra up, rushing her into the cave and laying her next to the fire.
"What food did you- Wait, is that Kyra?!" Meetle startled to see Garrick carry in an unconscious Kyra. "Are those arrows sticking out of her?!" He adds.
"Yeah, she's in bad shape. How did she even get here? Did she track us all this way in that condition?" Garrick talking out loud to himself.
Meetle paces around, stressed and anxious.
"What do we do, Garrick? What is going on?!"
Garrick inspects the wounds on Kyra. An arrow in the side of her torso, one in her arm, her nose smashed inwards and a red mark on her temple, most likely inflicted by Garrick's elbow when turning around. He checks her pulse, faint but consistent.
"Sit down and relax, Meetle. She's still kicking. In the morning, we'll head back to Darow; it's the nearest place I know that can help her." Garrick nervously says, just as Kyra's hand grabs his arm.
"N..no..Mor...land...." Kyra feebly whispers.
Garrick looks towards Kyra.
"Moreland? Moreland did this? That fucking psycho!" Garrick aggressively shouts.
Calming himself somewhat, he rubs his face, his eyes darting over the cave, trying to think of what to do.
"If we can't return to Darow, we need to move towards the mountains and find a mining camp. Volmyr uses a lot of Coldstone, so loads will be scattered amongst the mountains." Garrick commands.
Meetle grabs his hair, nervous, not knowing what to do.
"If the weather is good, then we could make it to the Coldstone mountains in a day, but they're massive; mining camps could be days apart." Meetle retorts to Garrick.
Garrick adds more sticks to the fire.
"If you have a better option, then I'm all ears. Otherwise, we've got no other option. Kyra's strong; she can make it. Just try and rest; when the weather settles, we move out."
Meetlemire defeatedly sits down, agreeing with Garrick.
It was a stressful end to a tumultuous day for Garrick and Meetlemire. The Coldstone mountains were their only hope of saving Kyra's life.
End Chapter