After only a few hours, Oriana was already sitting up, deep in meditation. Turalyon was keeping an eye on her. He was an elf, after all, just like Oriana, he didn't need much sleep. As Oriana's breathing deepened and her body remained perfectly still, a serene green coloured aura surrounded her, reflecting the inner peace she sought through her meditative state. Her concentration was unwavering, a testament to her mastery over the magical arts.T uralyon watched her intently. He admired her magic, recognizing her skill and dedication. Yet, he couldn't help but feel a tinge of disappointment. To him, all her talent and effort seemed wasted. In his eyes, Necromancy was the only true magic, the most potent and the most profound. It was the magic that commanded life and death, that wielded the forces of the afterlife. Oriana's pursuits, though impressive, seemed trivial compared to the grand and fearsome power of Necromancy. As the hours passed, the first hints of dawn began to appear on the horizon, painting the sky with soft hues of pink and orange. Oriana's meditation came to an end as she opened her eyes, feeling refreshed and focused. Turalyon's thoughts were interrupted as Oriana's eyes slowly opened. She met his gaze, sensing his contemplation. She knew of his views on Necromancy and the quiet, unspoken tension it brought between them. But she also knew he respected her path.
With the sun rising behind them, Finley and Thistle slowly woke up as well. Thistle let out a mighty yawn as she stretched, her small frame expanding to its full length before she relaxed back into a more comfortable position "Lets see what's for breakfast" she said as she rummaged around her supply bag. Finley rubbed his eyes, blinking away the remnants of sleep as he glanced around the camp. He saw Oriana packing up their belongings already, she was ready to move closer to the sporewood. But to get there they would have to navigate through the mountain pass, which was protected by the dwarves, they had to remain unnoticed.
"Morning," Finley said, his voice still groggy. He walked over to Thistle, who was now pulling out some dried fruit and hardtack. "Anything good in there?" "Just the usual," Thistle replied with a shrug, handing him a piece of fruit. "Not exactly a feast, but it'll do." Finley accepted the offering and looked over at Oriana. "You think we're ready to make our way up?" "Yes," Oriana responded, her eyes scanning the mountain pass ahead. "The sooner we get through, the better. We need to be careful. I've read that the dwarves are vigilant, and we can't afford to be caught." Turalyon, who had been silently observing from a distance, walked over to join the group. "We'll need to stick to the shadows and move quickly. If we're spotted, it could complicate things." "Complicate things? That's putting it lightly," Finley muttered, taking a bite of the dried fruit. "Any plan on how we're going to sneak past them?" "Not really," Oriana said, finally standing up and shouldering her pack. "But we need to stay alert and be ready to adapt. The terrain can be unpredictable, and we don't know what kind of patrols the dwarves have set up." Thistle finished her breakfast and began packing up her own gear. "Well, whatever the plan is, I'm ready. Let's get moving before they wake up." Turalyon nodded in agreement. "Our best chance is to use the natural cover of the landscape. Stick to the shadows and avoid the main paths. The dwarves are meticulous in their patrols, but they're also predictable. If we move quickly and quietly, we can slip through during their routine shifts." Finley sighed, finishing his breakfast. "Alright, let's get this over with. The sooner we reach Sporewood, the better." As the camp was all packed up Oriana led the group up the mountain pass, the first bit was still nice and warm, the pass covered in treacherous rocks that could cause a rock avalanche at any moment. The group took it slow and steady up the mountains. The path was narrow and winding, with steep drops on one side and towering cliffs on the other. They moved in single file, Turalyon overtook Oriana and started to lead the way, his sharp eyes scanning for any signs of movement. Oriana followed closely, her magic ready should they encounter any obstacles. Thistle and Finley brought up the rear, keeping an eye out for any signs of patrols from behind.
After an hour of cautious climbing, they reached a small plateau where they could take a brief rest. The sun was fully up now, casting long shadows across the landscape. The air was cooler at this altitude, and a light breeze carried the scent of pine and distant snow. "We're making good progress," Oriana said, glancing at the path ahead. "But we need to stay alert. The closer we get to the top, the more likely we are to encounter patrols." Turalyon nodded. "The terrain will get rougher from here. We'll need to be even more careful." They continued their ascent, the path becoming increasingly rugged. Loose rocks and gravel made every step a potential hazard, but they moved forward, their movements fluid and controlled. The higher they climbed, the thinner the air became, but they pressed on. As they neared the top of the pass, Turalyon suddenly raised a hand, signalling for the group to stop. He crouched low, peering around a rocky outcrop. "Patrol," he whispered, pointing to a group of dwarven guards making their way down a parallel path. The group froze, pressing themselves against the rock face to avoid being seen. The dwarves marched past, their heavy boots crunching on the gravel. Oriana held her breath, counting the seconds. Suddenly, one of the dwarves halted, sniffing the air. He turned and barked an order, and the entire patrol spun around, eyes scanning the rocky landscape. Before they could react, the dwarves had spotted them and moved swiftly, encircling the group with. "Hands where we can see 'em!" barked the lead dwarf, a grizzled veteran with a scar running down his cheek. "What business do you have in these parts?" While aiming a thunderbuss at the group. Turalyon slowly raised his hands, signalling for the others to do the same. "We mean no harm," he said, his voice calm and steady. "We're just passing through." The lead dwarf's eyes narrowed. "Passing through, eh? Through our mountain pass, without permission? That sounds like the talk of spies or smugglers." Oriana stepped forward slightly, her hands still raised. "We're neither," she said. "We are on a mission to reach Sporewood. It's a matter of great importance to me." The dwarf's gaze flicked to Oriana, his suspicion clear. "And what mission might that be?" "It's a personal matter," Oriana replied, trying to keep her tone neutral. "One we cannot delay." The dwarves exchanged glances, clearly unconvinced. The tension could be felt, the air thick with the possibility of conflict. Finley, sensing the need for a different approach, spoke up. "We seek passage through your lands, nothing more. We can offer a trade, information, or assistance in return for safe passage." The lead dwarf considered this for a moment, his eyes never leaving Turalyon's. Finally, he nodded. "We'll see about that. You'll come with us to our outpost and explain yourselves to our commander. If your story holds up, we might let you pass." Oriana exchanged a quick glance with Turalyon, who gave a barely perceptible nod. "Very well," she said. "Lead the way." With the dwarves surrounding them, the group had little choice but to follow. They were escorted down a narrow, winding path that led to a well-hidden outpost nestled in the mountainside. The dwarven guards remained vigilant, their eyes constantly on their captives.
As they approached the outpost, Oriana took a deep breath, steeling herself for the confrontation ahead. They had managed to avoid conflict for now, but the real challenge was just beginning. They needed to convince the dwarven commander of their intentions or risk losing precious time—and possibly their lives. The outpost was a sturdy, stone structure built into the mountain, with thick walls and watchtowers that offered a commanding view of the surrounding terrain. The group was led into a central hall, a grand structure with heavy wooden doors reinforced with iron bands. Inside, the hall was dimly lit by torches and chandeliers, the flickering light casting long shadows on the stone walls. This hall served as the command centre, where strategic meetings and gatherings were held. This is where a stern-looking dwarf with a braided beard and a polished breastplate stood waiting. His eyes were sharp and assessing as he looked them over. "Commander Stonefist," the lead dwarf announced. "We found these travellers attempting to cross the pass." Stonefist stepped forward, his gaze fixed on Oriana and her companions. "State your business," he demanded. Oriana took a step forward, her voice steady. "We are on a mission to reach Sporewood, Commander. It is of great importance to me and my companions." "And what, exactly, is so important that you would risk crossing our pass without permission?" Stonefist asked, his tone sceptical. Oriana hesitated, knowing that revealing too much could be dangerous, but she had no choice. "I am seeking knowledge and resources that can only be found in Sporewood. It is a personal quest, but one that could have significant implications, please we only mean to pass through." Stonefist studied her for a long moment before turning to his guards. "Take them to the holding area. I will decide their fate after further consideration."
The group was led away, their belongings confiscated, their fate uncertain. They were all separated as they were put in their holding cells. The small cells were made of thick rock, the air felt cold and damp. The cells were secured with iron bars on the door, and a small barred window allowed guards to check on the occupants without opening the door. The room contained only the bare essentials—benches along the walls and a small table in the centre. The furnishings were sturdy and unadorned, designed for functionality rather than comfort. There was one dimly lit torch in each cell, more for the guards to keep an eye on the occupant than for the occupant itself. It added a sense of confinement and isolation. The atmosphere in the holding cells was tense and uneasy as each member of the group found themselves isolated in their own dimly lit chambers. Oriana sat on the bench, her mind racing with thoughts of their predicament. Turalyon leaned against the stone wall, his expression stoic as he contemplated their next move. Thistle paced back and forth, her frustration evident in every step, while Finley sat quietly, his eyes darting around the room, taking in every detail. Outside the cells, the sound of dwarven guards patrolling echoed faintly, a constant reminder of their captivity. The air felt heavy with anticipation, each moment stretching into an eternity as they waited for Commander Stonefist's decision.
As night fell and the patrols grew quiet Turalyon whispered through the echoing halls "I can get us out of here, my ice shards could destroy these doors". "You're not the only one who can get out of here" Oriana replied, knowing she could just change into a bear and charge out of the outpost. But she didn't want to fight the dwarves. She didn't want to kill innocent people just to get to the Sporewood. In the dim light of their cells, Turalyon's whispered suggestion hung heavy in the air, tempting them with the promise of escape. Oriana, her thoughts conflicted, weighed his words carefully. The power to transform into a bear and break free from their confinement lay within her grasp, but the consequences of such a reckless act weighed heavily on her conscience. "We can't risk unnecessary bloodshed," Oriana murmured, her voice barely audible in the stillness of the chamber. "There must be another way." Turalyon nodded, his expression grave as he considered her words. "Fine, have it your way, we'll just rot away in these disgusting dwarven cells then shall we?" he replied with a snarky voice.
Oriana's jaw clenched at Turalyon's sharp retort, but she remained resolute in her decision. "We won't rot away," she said firmly. "But we won't resort to violence either. There has to be a way to reason with Stonefist and convince him to let us go peacefully." Turalyon huffed in frustration, but ultimately relented. "Fine," he grumbled, his tone begrudging. "We'll try your way first."Finley, who had remained silent until now, spoke up. "It's worth a try," he said, his voice steady. "We need to convince him that we pose no threat.
As the night set in, Finley and Thistly fell asleep while Oriana and Turalyon were awake, chatting through their cell doors. "I don't get why you won't resort to violence, we could have been out here already" Turalyon said.
Oriana sighed softly, her voice carrying a hint of sadness. "Violence should always be a last resort," she replied, her tone gentle but firm. "I don't want to cause harm unless absolutely necessary. Besides, even if we escaped, we'd be leaving behind a trail of chaos and potentially innocent casualties. That's not the kind of path I want to walk." Turalyon grunted in frustration, his impatience evident. "Sometimes you have to do what's necessary to survive," he argued, his voice tinged with bitterness. "This isn't some noble quest we're on. It's about survival, plain and simple.""But survival shouldn't come at the cost of our principles," Oriana countered, her conviction unwavering. "I refuse to compromise who we are just to escape a difficult situation. We'll find another way, one that doesn't involve violence."
"They're just dwarves, we're elves, surely you don't think they deserve any better?" Turalyon replied. "It's not about who they are, it's about who we are," Oriana responded, her voice steady despite the tension in the air. "Every life has value, regardless of race or creed. Resorting to violence against the dwarves simply because they're different from us goes against everything I believe in."
Turalyon's expression hardened, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. "They're standing in our way," he argued, his tone growing more impassioned. "If we don't act decisively, we'll never reach Sporewood. Is that what you want? To abandon your quest because of some misguided sense of morality?" I should have stayed in the Glade to practise my magic. "Our quest is important, but so are our values," she replied, her voice firm. "I won't sacrifice one for the other. There has to be another way, one that allows us to achieve our goals without compromising who we are."Turalyon fell silent, his gaze flickering as he considered her words. After a long moment, he nodded, albeit reluctantly. "Fine, but don't expect me to stand idly by your side if they decide we can't pass". "Understood," Oriana replied, her tone tinged with resignation. She knew Turalyon's loyalty lay with his path to necromancy and he didn't care about who he'd hurt in the process. "But let's exhaust every possible avenue before resorting to drastic measures."
Turalyon nodded, a steely determination flickering in his eyes. With that the conversation grew silent as they each sat down in their cell till the morning arrived.
Early in the morning the guards banged on their doors, "Stand up" they shouted as they opened the door "Time to go back to the commander". As the guards guided them out of their cells and back to the presence of Commander Stonefist, Oriana couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered in the air. Despite their resolve to find a peaceful resolution, the tension of their situation weighed heavily on her mind.
Commander Stonefist stood before them, his gaze stern as he surveyed the group. "You've had the night to think about your actions," he said, his voice gruff. "Now, tell me again why you seek passage through our lands." Oriana stepped forward, her expression composed despite the turmoil within. "We mean no harm to your people," she began, her voice steady. "Our journey to Sporewood is of great importance to us, but we are willing to negotiate for safe passage." Stonefist regarded her with a scrutinising gaze, his brow furrowed in thought. "And what, exactly, do you have to offer in return?" he asked, his tone cautious. Oriana hesitated, considering her words carefully. "We can offer information, assistance, or whatever else you deem necessary," she replied, her tone sincere. "We seek only to pass through your lands peacefully." The commander's expression softened slightly, though the suspicion still lingered in his eyes. "Very well," he said, his voice gruff but not unkind. "I will allow you to continue on your journey, under one condition." Oriana held her breath, waiting for his terms. "You will be accompanied by a contingent of my best soldiers," Stonefist declared. "They will ensure that you do not stray from the path or cause any trouble. If you agree to this condition, you may proceed. If not, you will remain here as our guests for the foreseeable future." Oriana exchanged a glance with her companions, silently conveying their shared apprehension. But they knew they had little choice but to accept the commander's terms if they hoped to continue their journey. "We agree," Oriana said, her voice steady despite the uncertainty that gnawed at her. "Thank you for your understanding, Commander." And so, they were escorted out of the outpost, their journey through the mountain pass resumed under the watchful eyes of the dwarven soldiers.
Six dwarves accompanied them, two walked on the left, two on the right, one in the front and one in the back, it felt like they were blocked in. But luckily for them they would reach the end of the pass sometime tomorrow afternoon. As they walked the air felt crisp, Oriana's robes didn't really protect her from the cold, she was shivering as they walked through the snowy mountain tops. But soon they would start to descend again and she should be able to feel the warmth once more. The cold bit at her skin, and every breath felt like inhaling shards of ice. Oriana pulled her cloak tighter around her, but it did little to stave off the chill. She glanced at her companions, noting their similar discomfort. Even the dwarves, resilient as they were, had wrapped themselves in thicker furs. As they marched on, the terrain grew increasingly treacherous. The narrow path wound along sheer cliffs, and patches of ice made each step precarious. Oriana's mind wandered back to the conversation with the commander. The terms they had agreed to weighed heavily on her, but she pushed those thoughts aside, focusing on the immediate task of safely navigating the pass. "We'll make it through," she muttered to herself, a mantra to keep her spirits up. The sky was a pale, washed-out blue, and the sun, though bright, offered little warmth. Hours passed in a silent march, the only sounds were the crunch of snow underfoot and the occasional gust of wind. By midday, they reached a point where the path began to slope downward. Oriana felt a flicker of hope; soon, the descent would bring relief from the biting cold. "We're starting to go down," one of her companions noted, a hint of optimism in his voice. "It won't be long now." As they descended, the snow thinned, revealing patches of rocky ground. The air grew marginally warmer, enough for Oriana to feel her fingers again. She flexed her hands, grateful for the slight reprieve. The dwarves maintained their vigilant escort, their eyes scanning the landscape for any signs of trouble.
By the time the sun began its slow descent towards the horizon, casting long shadows across the mountainside, they found a sheltered spot to camp for the night. The dwarves swiftly set up a perimeter, while Oriana and her companions gathered around a small fire, grateful for its warmth.
Thistle and Finley were soon fast asleep as Oriana and Turalyon sat near the campfire in silence, the dwarves took turns keeping watch.
Suddenly, a vicious roar pierced the stillness of the night. Finley and Thistle jumped up from their sleeping bags, eyes wide with fear. The dwarves immediately stood up, weapons ready, their expressions grim and alert. "Ye might want to help us with this one if it gets close," one of the dwarves said, his voice steady despite the tension in the air. "What is it?" Oriana asked, her heart pounding. "Snow yeti," the dwarf replied. "They roam here." The sound of heavy footsteps crunching through the snow grew louder, and the ground seemed to tremble with each step. Oriana's mind raced as she considered their options. Fighting a snow yeti was not something she had anticipated, but there was no turning back now. "Stay close to the fire," Turalyon whispered to Oriana and the others. "It might keep it at bay." The firelight cast flickering shadows on the surrounding rocks, creating an eerie, shifting landscape. Oriana gripped her staff, ready to channel her magic if needed. Thistle and Finley, though clearly frightened, armed themselves, standing back-to-back to cover each other. The yeti's roar echoed again, closer this time, sending a shiver down Oriana's spine. The dwarves, unflinching, formed a protective line in front of the campfire, their axes and hammers glinting in the firelight.Moments later, the massive creature emerged from the darkness. It was a towering, hulking figure covered in thick white fur, with glowing red eyes that burned with primal rage. The snow yeti bared its teeth, revealing rows of sharp, glistening fangs. "Hold your ground!" the lead dwarf shouted, his voice a commanding presence amidst the chaos.
The yeti let out another deafening roar and charged towards them. The dwarves met its advance with a coordinated strike, their weapons clashing against the creature's thick hide. Oriana raised her scythe and began to chant, summoning a barrier of twisting vines to slow the creature down. The battle was fierce and chaotic. The yeti swiped its massive claws, knocking two dwarves to the ground. Turalyon stood next to the fire, casting a beam of crackling energy towards the yeti. Thistle swung her giant battle axe at the creature's kneecaps, forcing it to the ground. The creature roared in pain and fury, its red eyes glowing even brighter. Finley rushed to the fallen dwarves, his hands glowing with a soft, healing light. He whispered soothing words, and the dwarves' wounds began to close, strength returning to their limbs. They nodded their thanks and rejoined the fight. The yeti, though hampered by the vines and injured by Thistle's strike, still posed a formidable threat. It swung its massive arm, scattering the vines and narrowly missing Oriana, who ducked just in time. She retaliated by driving her scythe into the creature's side, the blade finding purchase between its ribs. "Keep it off balance!" Oriana shouted, her voice cutting through the thick of battle.
Turalyon moved closer, his hands weaving patterns in the air as he prepared another spell. A beam of energy shot from his fingertips, striking the yeti in the chest and sending it reeling backward. The creature roared again, more in frustration than pain, as it struggled against the combined assault.
Thistle seized the moment of distraction to swing her axe again, this time aiming for the yeti's other leg. The creature, already unsteady, toppled to the ground with a thunderous crash. Oriana's vines surged forward, wrapping tightly around its arms and legs, holding it down.
"Now!" Oriana cried, and the dwarves sprang into action, their weapons rising and falling in a flurry of coordinated strikes. The yeti, trapped and overwhelmed, could do little to defend itself. Its roars grew weaker, its struggles more feeble.
With one final, powerful strike, Turalyon directed a beam of searing energy at the yeti's heart. The creature convulsed, its red eyes dimming as the light faded from them.
Breathing heavily, Oriana lowered her scythe and surveyed the scene. The yeti lay motionless, its threat neutralised. The dwarves, though battered and bruised, stood victorious, their weapons stained with the creature's blood.
"Is everyone alright?" Oriana asked, her voice trembling with relief. "Aye, we'll live," the lead dwarf replied, wiping sweat from his brow. "That was a close one."
"Thank you," Oriana said to the dwarves, her gratitude evident. "We couldn't have done it without you." "Likewise," the dwarf replied with a nod. "We've made it through this together."
The dwarves nodded, their expressions a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. "That was a formidable foe," Turalyon remarked, his voice steady despite the adrenaline still coursing through him.The dwarves began to tend to their wounds and those of their companions. Finley moved among them, using his healing abilities to mend cuts and bruises. The injured dwarves gratefully accepted his help, their spirits lifting as their pain eased.
The group settled back into their camp, the fire crackling warmly as they huddled close for comfort and warmth. They were restless now, only one of them was able to sleep. Thistle slept like a rock, her snoring putting a smile on Finley's face. "Leave it to Thistle to sleep through anything," Finley whispered, shaking his head with a chuckle. Oriana sat close to the fire, her eyes reflecting the dancing flames. "It's a blessing, really," she said softly. "She'll be well-rested for tomorrow." As the night progressed they took turns into guarding the camp. It remained silent for the rest of the night, just the fire crackling and the dwarves talking amongst their kin. Oriana took her turn on watch, her senses alert to any disturbances. She listened intently to the dwarves' conversations, catching snippets of their tales and the rich history of their kin. Their voices, deep and resonant, spoke of ancient battles and lost kingdoms, of traditions and honour. The stories were both foreign and fascinating to her, adding layers to her understanding of these steadfast companions. Turalyon, joined Oriana during her watch. The two sat next to each other in silence. Every so often, they exchanged glances, communicating their thoughts without words. The night's events had drawn them closer, solidifying their trust in one another. As her watch came to an end, Oriana felt a deep sense of peace. She gently woke Finley for his turn on guard duty, offering him a reassuring smile before settling down to rest. The camp remained peaceful. The fire's warm glow kept the chill at bay, and the dwarves' low voices continued to weave a tapestry of history and kinship. Thistle's rhythmic snores provided a comforting background, a reminder of the group's shared humanity amidst the harsh wilderness. With the first light of dawn, the camp stirred to life. Oriana awoke feeling surprisingly refreshed, the night's calm having provided her with a much-needed rest. They packed up their belongings, the routine of their morning preparations offering a sense of normalcy. Oriana didn't have time to meditate to nature this morning, but she still found a way to honour it. She gathered a few wildflowers and small stones she found near their camp and created a small, intricate mandala on the ground. With careful hands, she arranged the natural elements into a beautiful pattern, reflecting the harmony and balance she sought to honour in nature. As she worked, she whispered a quiet prayer, thanking the earth for its shelter and resources, and asking for continued protection and guidance on their journey. This simple yet meaningful act allowed her to connect with nature. Once she finished, she stood up and took a moment to admire her creation, feeling a sense of calm and connection wash over her. She knew that nature's strength and beauty were with them, guiding and supporting them.
Afterwards they continued their journey, ascending the mountain further and the mood seemed lighter than the day before. The dwarves seemed to have lowered their guard around the group and were chatting amongst themselves again. It put a smile on Oriana's face, which Finley noticed "What are you smiling at?" he asked as he nudged her with his shoulder. Oriana chuckled softly, turning to meet his gaze. "Just seeing everyone so at ease. It's a welcome change from yesterday, don't you think?" Finley nodded, his own smile mirroring hers. "Yes, it sure is. Seems like we've all earned a bit of respite after yesterday's excitement." "It's moments like these that remind me why we're on this journey together," Oriana said, her voice tinged with sincerity. "To support each other, to overcome whatever comes our way."
Finley's smile widened, his eyes reflecting the flickering light of the fire. "Aye, that's the spirit. Together, we can handle anything."
After a few hours of walking they finally reached the end of the mountain pass, they were greeted by trees and the song of birds as they made their descent. The transition from the barren, rocky landscape of the mountains to the vibrant life of the forest was like stepping into another world. The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers, and the song of birds echoed through the trees. Oriana breathed in deeply, relishing the fresh, earthy scent of the forest. The journey through the mountain pass had been arduous, but now, surrounded by the beauty of nature, she felt a sense of renewal wash over her.
The dwarves stopped in front of them "This is where we say our goodbyes" the leader said.Oriana nodded, gratitude shimmering in her eyes as she looked at the dwarven leader. "Thank you," she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of their shared journey. "I couldn't have made it this far without your guidance and hospitality." The leader of the dwarves inclined his head respectfully. "Aye, it was our honour to assist you, Oriana." With a final exchange of farewells, Oriana watched as the dwarves turned and began their journey back through the mountain pass. She felt sad about their departure but she realised she had allies up in those mountains. Turalyon looked at her and said "I guess they weren't too bad for dwarves, I am glad to be rid of their smell though." Oriana smiled at Turalyon's comment, shaking her head lightly. "They may have their quirks, but their loyalty is unmatched," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of fondness for their departing allies. "And as for their smell, well, it's part of their charm, isn't it?" Turalyon chuckled, nodding in agreement. "Well yes, I suppose it is. But I'll admit, I won't miss it much." As they watched the dwarves disappear into the winding mountain pass, Oriana couldn't shake the feeling of gratitude for their assistance. "We owe them a debt of gratitude," she murmured, more to herself than to Turalyon. "Indeed," he replied, his gaze following hers. "But I have no doubt we'll find a way to repay it in due time." With that, they turned away from the mountains, their minds already shifting to the next steps of their journey.