The convoy rolled forward again

The convoy rolled forward again once the wheel was repaired. The mood was tense but determined. Everyone kept a closer eye on the treeline after the ambush.

Allareon had taken a position on top of the lead caravan. He sat cross-legged on the roof of the sturdy wagon, blades resting across his lap, eyes constantly moving. From that high vantage he could see far ahead and to both sides of the road. His posture was relaxed, but there was nothing relaxed about the way he watched. Every shift in the shadows, every bird that took flight too suddenly, was noted.

Crombie rode a little behind the middle of the convoy on his large horse, the magically bound chest still secure at his hip. He stayed aware of both Allareon ahead of him and Joy’s wagon a short distance behind. The feline bard caught his eye more than once. She didn’t flash him again, but the looks she gave him were full of the same playful heat from earlier.

As the afternoon wore on, the temperature began to drop fast. The sun disappeared behind thick grey clouds, and a sharp wind picked up. By late afternoon it was clear the night was going to be freezing.

Master Torren eventually called a halt well before full dark. The traders were experienced enough to know when the weather was turning dangerous.

They made camp in a wide clearing beside the road. Fires were started, but everyone could already feel how little warmth they would provide once the real cold set in.

That was when the wizards revealed themselves.

There had been three of them travelling with the convoy the entire time, keeping quiet and blending in with the merchants. Two humans and one gnome. Once the decision to stop was made, they stepped forward and got to work without fanfare.

Under an hour later, the enchanted shelter stood ready.

It wasn’t a normal tent. The wizards had combined their magic to create a large, semi-solid structure — part conjured wood and stone, part shimmering protective wards. Inside it was warm, almost comfortably so, with soft magical light and enough space for most of the convoy to sleep without freezing. The cold wind howled outside, but inside the temperature stayed steady and pleasant.

It was impressive work. Even Crombie had to admit it.

But the wizards were clear about one thing as everyone began moving inside:

“Someone still needs to keep watch,” the lead wizard said, pulling his cloak tighter. “The structure is strong, but it won’t stop determined attackers on its own. And after this morning’s ambush, we can’t afford to be careless.”

A few of the hired guards volunteered for the first shift, but it was clear they would need multiple people rotating through the night if they wanted proper coverage.

Crombie stood near the entrance of the magical shelter, halberd resting against his shoulder. The cold bit at his blue fur, but he barely felt it. His yellow eyes moved across the camp — to Allareon, who had climbed down from the lead wagon and was now standing quietly near the treeline, still watching everything, and to Joy, who was helping carry supplies inside but kept glancing his way with that same interested spark in her green eyes.

Both of them were clearly aware of him.

And both of them were clearly waiting to see what he would do.

The night was going to be long and cold outside the shelter.

Someone was going to have to stand watch.