Fields of green lay to either side, but only steps ahead, the grass became sparse, unable to take root in the rocky mountain soil. Soon the travelers would be immersed in stone, the smooth path carved by the dwarves their only scenery. “How is the weather up north?” Galen asked, attempting to fill the silence. “Cold,” Raad grunted. He leaned forward slightly as he walked, the weight of his backpack heavy. Squinting his eyes slightly, Galen asked, “What have you go in there?” “Cask,” the dwarf replied, his white teeth shining. “Will you be sharing?” the elf asked. Raad shook his head. “You can get this stuff any time. I might not be back this way for years.” “Well, save it until we’ve arrived,” Kaiya said, scanning the surroundings. “We need to keep our minds sharp.” With every step, her worry grew. She tried to tell herself she was only being paranoid, but still she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was out there—waiting, watching, and planning its first, or possibly next, move.
