The caravan moved onward with renewed vigor now that respite was in sight. Men and women breathed a little easier, children laughed a little louder. Even the gnoll, Fleek, was overjoyed to see the town, dropping down to all fours to gain more traction in pulling his yoke.
As their sullen mood lifted, so did the canopy of trees. They had traversed the Bretolian forest and now looked forward to the comforts of civilization. Even Tyrel’s heart lifted at the prospect of helping the stricken Seryan.
They followed the heavily wagon rutted trail out of the forest and onto the sprawling plains, coming closer they fully understood the scope of the area, what grass they thought would be knee-high came up even to Jarn’s chest. Listening to the rustling of the long grasses in the wind, they continued forward blindly following the upward sloping trail in the near dark.
A salvo of flaming arrows swooped forth from the top of the walled city, burying a few scant yards from the first of the wagon horses, making them rear screaming in the sudden light.
“Stop!”, boomed a resounding voice afterward. The group walked over to the light, allowing it to show themselves to the town.
“We seek shelter!”, returned Aniston in the same manner.
“Then come closer and we shall talk!”, shouted the voice.
Kyle had already unhitched a wagon horse for the old man to ride. Aniston mounted in one swift movement and rode forth well into arrow range at a regal trot.
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