Garrick's eyes shoot open wide with worry, but all in vain, as the sound that awoke him is just the peaceful tweeting of birds flying overhead. Garrick thinks this must be the first time since Jarathus turned him into Runecarved that he hasn't had a nightmare. Not only did he have a peaceful night's sleep, but he slept long and undisturbed, which, although beneficial and much needed, caused his body to be stiff and rigid. He took a careful, slow stretch and yawned as he felt and heard his body pop and crunch, with the sound being more frightening than it really was. Garrick gives a glance to Kyra, who is still unconscious, but her bandages have been reapplied, and any blood cleaned up by Grensyl, most likely this morning. Garrick can hear a sizzle from outside with some chatter between Grensyl and Meetlemire. With the start of his day going so well, Garrick decides not to wallow in any sadness and decides to exit the carriage, being careful not to disturb Kyra.
With the warming sun in full view, Garrick can ascertain that an hour or so has passed since it's risen into the sky, which makes him curious as to why they haven't left yet. Walking over to the campfire where Grensyl and Meetle sit, a glorious smell of cooked meats hits his nostrils, a smell so good he feels himself levitate over to them, mouth watering already.
Grensyl sees Garrick walking over and scoots to his left slightly to allow him to sit beside him while tapping the space left, inviting Garrick to sit with them.
"You're up and about earlier than I, even though Garrick. Let's see if you still have an appetite. I went hunting earlier and got us some small critters for breakfast." Grensyl has a smile on his face, a face that no longer has a rash but now has a centimetre of beard growth.
"Dwarf beards grow fast, I barely shave, and you already got me beat." Garrick chuckles as he sits down. Meetlemire hands him some meat that is skewered on a stick.
"Eat up Garrick. We're heading out after breakfast."
Garrick takes a bite, savouring every chew of the tender meat. With a careful gulp, he swallows the food.
"Right, I'm gonna take down this tent. It should be easier to dismantle than build...I hope anyway." Grensyl laughs as he pulls up the sleeves of his dirty shirt and gets to work.
Garrick and Meetlemire sit silently, taking in the view and enjoying the quiet that is so valuable to them now.
"The fucking stick broke, it's stuck inside the goddamn tent!" Grensyl wiped the sweat from his forehead, focusing diligently on the task at hand but struggling to dismantle the tent nonetheless.
Well, the somewhat quiet. Grensyl manages to complete the mundane task, and they set off again for another day of travelling.
As time passes, the thought of reaching the city of Volmyr, which has been on their minds for so long, starts to become just a dream. A mythical place that is never truly reachable, always in your mind, but always unattainable, but the company makes the journey worth it. Garrick can't help but think of his recent development as bittersweet. Sure, he was tortured and became this being that is haunted by PTSD and has magic that is so destructive that it hurts even him, but the friends he made give him such a warm feeling that makes it seem almost worth it. Even this new one, Grensyl, who is just a stranger and knows how dangerous he is but still helped and continues to help selflessly.
"Thank you, Grensyl. I haven't said it, but I appreciate you helping me." Garrick realised this was the first time he thanked Grensyl. He was so caught up in his mess that he didn't even thank the person who helped him.
Grensyl waves Garrick's comment away. "It's more than fine, Garrick. I'm here to help lives, not destroy them anymore. I'll always be willing to help someone in need, and you lot needed more than I've ever seen."
Meetlemire speaks up. "With all our bad luck, you seem like the breath of fresh air we needed to finish this journey, hopefully with the rest of my limbs intact."
Silence in the party.
Then, the three of them burst out laughing. To laugh at one's own misery is truly a sign of recovery, and Meetlemire is well on his way to healing.
"You seem in better spirits today. Maybe I'll let you set up your own tent tonight. I don't want to lose any more hair!" Grensyl chuckles so much that he goes into a coughing fit. "Oh, I haven't laughed that much in a while."
"I think the same can be said for me and Meetle, too." Garrick adds.
Meetlemire nods in agreement. "If laughter's the best medicine, my arm may grow back."
Meetlemire's comment sends them off again into another laughing fit. With Grensyl coughing and Garrick clutching his stomach in pain as every chuckle antagonises his wounds.
With the sun passing the halfway mark for the day, Grensyl hops in the back of the carriage to check up on Kyra. After a quick inspection and back up next to Meetle he goes.
"She doing okay?" Garrick anxiously asks.
"Yeah, doing pretty good. Like I said, if Kyra's still unconscious by the time we get to Volmyr, then it may be more concerning." Grensyl tries to eliminate Garrick's fears again, but he knows until Kyra wakes up, he won't ever relax.
They continue travelling for the rest of the day, descending the mountain slowly and steadily. They reach another suitable camping spot for the night, a little grotto, to help with the cold of the night.
"Being inside, I think I'll not bother setting up the tent." Meetle cheekily utters.
Grensyl chuckles in reply. "I had a feeling you wouldn't be setting it up at all."
Garrick stares out the cave at the setting sun as his hand trembles, not even realising it's happening. Grensyl takes notice and walks over to him.
"We're making good progress so far. We should reach the flatter plateau tomorrow if the weather stays favourable. Then it's just a few days more to Volmyr."
The city of Volmyr, the creator's bastion, is less than a week away. Garrick's purpose will become clear when he reaches it. He is sure of it.
End Chapter