Nothing more happens on our trip to Caster Falls that's worth noting.
Honestly, that's a good thing in my books.
After what happened with the collapsed trees in the forest, I'm not sure my nerves could have truly handled even mild difficulties. And if bandits or ruffians arrived?
I'd be tempted to let out my stress perhaps just a little bit too excessively on them.
And I don't think I'd be the only one to do that, either.
Perhaps more importantly, nothing happening means nothing slows us down and nothing makes us stop.
We make it to Caster Falls just about when we expect to. The rain has cleared up, and the roads ultimately managed to never turn fully into mud or puddles, and so that particular possible disaster was avoided by us.
Unfortunately, arriving at Caster Falls only means riding right into the sight of another, far worse, disaster.
