A road less traveled

The first couple days on the road go quickly, and despite the troops slowing your pace, you make good time. You don’t run into any trouble, but you also notice a lack of travelers in general, on what you expect is normally a well traveled road. The few groups you see give your forces a wide berth, and the glimpses you get look more like refugees than traders. You leave them to the road, as you already know what they’re fleeing from.

As you make camp about a day out from Addie’s inn, you sit with the girls around the cooking fire. The mood in camp is surprisingly light, something you feel like comes from the fact that everyone here started out as a refugee themselves. You had initially worried about handling such a large group of people, what amounts to a small army, in fact. But Victor trained them well, and on the march they’re practically self sufficient, simply following your lead. The few times they needed to ask for your guidance, the asker was apologetic for bothering you, something that always amused the girls to no end.

Tonight, though, it’s quiet. In camp, the girls all treat it as a chance to get some stress relief, either with you it with each other. Some, like Alex, are far more brazen about it than others. The solar elemental is currently whispering in Melora’s ear, and even in the firelight you can see the seer blushing as she nods. Tonight, though, Ferra seems intent on staying close, clasping your hand in both of hers and resting her head on your shoulder. Something has her feeling clingy tonight, and you’re not sure what, but you’re happy to be there for the golem girl.

It’s honestly quite relaxing after a long day walking, which makes it even more startling when the fire suddenly flares up, sending a shower of sparks into the air. Both you and Ferra leap to your feet in surprise, but curiously, you two are the only ones to react. In fact, no one else moves at all! You and Ferra glance at each other, as the cloud of sparks gathered over your heads and drifts down in front of you. As they fall, they glow brighter and brighter, until they’re nearly blinding. Then, suddenly, the glow fades, and where the cloud of sparks gathered stands the towering, bewildering figure that is Poena.

Ferra grips your hand almost painfully tight, as she steps protectively in front of you. Poena regards you with a dispassionate gaze, saying nothing, before finally nodding. Then, they speak, and you swear you hear a hint of amusement in their voice.