"Ya think he'll like it?"

"One willing to cross the bridge must leave an offering to appease its dweller and ward off his wrath."

"Salt and breadcrumbs?" - Imoen asked skeptically - "It's what the water trolls from around here eat?"

"It is a tradition in my country."

"Uh-huh. They are partial to flesh and bones in mine." - she said - "Galahad, be serious now. Don't you think we've passed through this river twice before?"

Galahad grunted unhappily, gazing up to the sun.

Leaning over the mare's neck, Imoen regarded the sturdy stone construction that arched over the brook. It was surprisingly well kept for a road that seemed so seldom travelled.

So far, they were apparently the only ones.

It was different from the broad, dusty tracts of the Realms - or what she'd seen of them - littered with horse dung, busy day and night, crowded with journeymen and adventurers and merchants.

"We're lost, are we not?"

"My lady, surely there is no reason to-"

"We're going in circles. I'm sure we've crossed this bridge already. And if we keep crossing it over again, and again, and again." - she said with a huff - "You'll run out of your salt and breadcrumbs soon, and the thingie that lives there gonna get pissy, eat Fomhaír instead, and then chomp on our shanks."

The knight didn't reply, but she'd noticed the tight set of his jaw.

Millara sighed in her sleep.

It must have been around the noon; sun seemed to hang straight over their heads, bright, distant and uncaring.

Imoen frowned.

As they passed yet another picturesque grassy hill, an empty field and a shadowy grove, her forehead scrunched like an old parchment. She was certain that something was not as it ought to be.

"Stop! Galahad, stop for a moment, will ya?"

"Of course, my lady Imoen." - the knight nodded - "Are you tired? You could surely use some rest."

"Immy?" - Millara yawned delicately, dabbing at her eyes - "Are we there yet? What is going on?"

"No worries. I just gotta check something."

Imoen slid off the saddle and walked to the roadside. She regarded the idyllic scenery for a while, took a deep breath and punched the air.

Thud.

The nearest slope wobbled, a slight tremor went rolling through the columnade of ancient yews. Impossibly, the line of the horizon warped and dented, its colours bleeding one onto another, shifting, blurring. A lush cornflower and poppy filled meadow smeared into the vague likeness of an asylum patient's masterpiece, leaving blue and green streaks on the back of her palm.

Blue and green to never be seen.

"Aha!"

With her suspicions confirmed, she punched again - this time more confidently, with all the strenght she could muster.

So long quiet, the countryside exploded with the sound of a wet cardboard being ripped, water bubbling, and two exclamations of disbelievement. Where a lime tree in a full bloom was but a moments ago, a dark hole gaped; waves of torrential rain rushing through, spilling, forming muddy pools under her feet in no time.

"But how..?"

"What in the dark recesses of the Abyss...?"

"Lookit now, eh?" - Imoen said with satisfaction, tugging at the hole's edge to tear it even more - "Told ya, I right knew something's ratty here! It was all painted!"

The landscape on the other side of the cardboard wall was entirely different. It was a middle of the night there, for a first thing, and it was raining - heavily so. The wind howled and screamed as it blew in crisp scent of fir needles and reed, spraying icy moisture on her face. Faint light glimmered in a distance, dancing like a firefly trapped in the net of branches.

"Great stinking balls of Tempus... We aren't going there, Immy, are we?"

Millara jumped off the horseback, landing gracefully just few feet away. Galahad came to stand by Imoen's side, eyes wide open in shock and awe, but his face aglow with joy.

"My fair lady, how come you have guessed it was but an artifice?"

"Easy-peasy; I've a good eye. And anyway, it was all too pretty to be true."

"Your words ring with wisdom beyond your years."

"Hah!" - Imoen felt her cheeks grow warm - "I'm glad someone finally noticed!"

The knight smiled and bend to kiss her hand.

He's cute, she decided.

"I am unworthy of thee." - he shook his head - "I erred in my doubt, and now, I beg your pardon."

"Aww, think nothing of it, Galahad. Who wouldn't doubt, looking at Millie?"

"Well, excuse me-"

"Oh, wait! I know one fine example, but shh." - curious, Imoen peered over his shoulder, wiping her damp forehead with a sleeve - "Whatcha grinning at?"

"The old legend is true. You two are the saviors of this land if it called to you even through smoke and mirrors, and the accursed witches' foul magic. Lady-Wolf, Lady-Fox." - the knight said, bowing deeply - "Welcome to the Camelot."