Simangee, Targesh and he stretched out around a campfire in the thick woods on the south bank of the Dondor River, the border between Chulnagh and Shuff. Adalon ached all over and it felt good to have the armour off. He had sharp twinges in his thighs and the base of his tail. He grimaced as he lay back and watched sparks whirl up past the mountain beeches. 'How far is it, Simangee?' She sighed. 'About the same as when you asked me last time. Two more days, maybe three.' Simangee had volunteered to navigate and had brought a number of maps she'd found in the Lost Castle. She spent much of her rest time in poring over the ancient charts. Given the speed of the mighty brass riding beasts, they'd chosen to risk crossing the Skyhorn Ranges through the Sleeto Pass. Adalon knew Queen Tayesha could have scouts in the area, but rounding the ranges at the north or south would add weeks to their journey. Through good fortune, they encountered no-one as they thundered through the mountains. Adalon was sombre, though, as they rode past the burned-out ruins of the village of Sleeto.
