"I don't like the look of that," Loghain said, looking off to the east as they approached the crest of the next ridge late the next afternoon. The others reined in their horses and turned to look back the way they'd come as well.
Lem let out a piercing whistle at the sight of the bank of dark clouds scudding westwards towards them. "Nor I," he agreed. "We'd better be under cover before that reaches us."
"And not up here on the ridge-line, either," Loghain agreed. "Come on, best we move smartly," he said, and turning back westwards, touched his heels to the stallion's flanks, picking up the pace as he led them uphill.
This ridge was not topped by grasslands, as the previous one had been, but was instead cloaked in trees, a mix of types but mostly tall evergreens, the trail they followed through it thickly carpeted with fallen pine needles. It was hard to tell when they'd reached the crest of the ridge, but easy to tell once they'd passed it, as they went through a series of small up and down slopes before they struck another long downhill stretch of trail. The trail went across the slope as much as down it, winding back and forth a little to skirt around a few particularly steep or uneven areas.
The light was beginning to fade and mutters of thunder rumble audibly in the distance as clouds crept in overhead before Loghain finally stopped. "Here, I think," he said, scanning the forest to one side of the trail. "It's as good a place as I've seen yet, and while there might be better further on, I'd prefer we're under canvas before the rain starts."
Lem grunted agreement, already dismounting from his horse. For his part, Alistair couldn't see why Loghain had chosen this seemingly random patch of hillside over any other. "Why here?" he asked.
Loghain grinned. "Lem?" he said.
Lem grinned as well. "Look at the shape of the slope here. This bit beside the trail rises up a little, then there's a little drop before it rises again up toward the ridge line. So what do you think will happen to any water that comes flowing down the hill toward it?"
"Oh," Alistair said, and smiled. "I see. It'll flow around this little rise, like it's an island."
"Exactly," Loghain agreed, and gestured. "If you look, you can even see the marks of erosion and water flow from previous rain falls. If we pitch our tent here, the only water we're likely to have to worry about is whatever comes down from directly over us, not all the rainfall from up-slope of here."
They soon had the horses and mules unloaded, the packs all hanging from a stout branch with the canvas pack covers draped over them to protect them from the rain, the animals themselves all hitched in a line along the trail's edge, and fed from their meagre stock of grain since there wasn't any browse for them.
There wasn't really enough room in between the tree trunks to pitch their tent, so instead they tied it between four of them to make a slanted roof, the low end at the uphill side, the direction the rain would be coming from. Wilf cleared ground down to bare earth at the downhill side for a fire pit, and they hurriedly gathered fallen deadwood from the area. The first few drops of rain were already beginning to fall as Loghain got the fire going.
It was an uncomfortable camp that night, and damp, all four men and the mabari squeezed in together in the small space under their tent canvas. None of them except Crush slept well; even once the worst of the thunder and lightning had passed into the distance, the rain itself continued as a torrential downfall, only finally slowing a few hours before dawn. And even with the rainfall, Loghain insisted on them keeping proper watches, so they were either awake and trying not to doze off, or trying to sleep and being kept awake by the rain and noise and the constant shifting around of everyone else.
Breakfast the next morning was a cold meal, the fire having gone out overnight and there being no dry wood with which to easily relight it. It was still raining, a cold drizzle now, but Loghain decided it was best they continue onwards; they'd likely be even colder sitting in camp, he said, and almost as damp.
The horses and mules were glad of their morning ration of grain, but clearly unhappy about being tacked up again; ears were back, tails clamped, the stallion tried to take a bite out of Loghain, and Lem narrowly dodged being kicked by one of the mules. All of them were in a foul mood by the time they finally mounted up and moved on, their rain capes keeping the worst of the wetness off but the wind and rain still making for a chilly, damp ride.
The rain continued all day, sometimes easing off to a mere misting, occasionally building to a more definite rainfall, but never dissipating entirely. Lunch was another cold meal, eaten while they took advantage of a small mountain meadow to allow their mounts to rest and graze for a while. They walked for a while after that, leading their mounts, all of them tired and miserable and knowing that that night's camp was likely to be just as uncomfortable.
Loghain cursed tiredly, looking at where a bridge should have crossed the narrow, fast-flowing river that rushed downhill toward the lake-filled valley between the two ridges – a lake they'd skirted the southern shore of earlier that day – but it had clearly been washed away at some time, only the rock-filled wooden cribs at either bank remaining. "We'll have to back-track," he said grimly, thinking of how the last branching they'd passed was over an hour's travel behind them.
Lem and Alistair grunted, Wilf remaining silent. They turned their horses, riding back the way they'd come, Loghain having to remain at the back until they reached a stretch where the trail widened enough for him to move forward and resume the lead position.
All of them were in a sour mood from the continuing rain, which had been falling for two days now. They had to constantly dismount and walk on any steeper sections of trail, the water and mud being too slick a surface to safely ride up, and even in the flatter sections of trail they often needed to lead the horses rather than riding them. Cold meals, wet weather, sore feet... and now a detour.
He was unhappy as he led the way down the other trail. They'd had plenty of choices in trails and directions when they'd been closer to the inhabited areas of Gwaren, but now that they were approaching the Wilds, such trails were few, and branchings far between. The route they'd been on until it dead-ended at the washed out bridge had been going more-or-less to the northwest, the direction they needed to go. This alternate route went southwest instead, away from their destination.
The trail crossed several wide streams, all flowing heavily from the recent rain, though thankfully adequately bridged so that they were in no danger crossing them. It was darkening toward evening when they reached a much wider torrent, a sheer waterfall plunging down into a narrow canyon, the trail crossing the canyon on a narrow bridge of rope and boards. Loghain and Lem both cursed softly at the sight of it. No problem for a man on foot, but coaxing horses and mules across was not going to be easy. But as the other alternative was to backtrack even further, to the eastern side of the lake, they were going to have to make the attempt.
They dismounted, and at Loghain's orders grained the horses again and ate a little food themselves. Lem crossed the bridge, checking how sound the planking was. "It should hold," he reported when he returned. "Though I'd certainly recommend taking only one animal across at a time."
"Best we carry all our gear across separately, too," Loghain said. "While we take care of that, you go see if you can find a decent camp site on the other side; it will be getting dark before we're done here."
Lem nodded, and headed back across, disappearing out of sight along the trail on the opposite side, Crunch following after him. The rest of them set to removing everything from their horses, Alistair and Wilf taking it in turns to carry loads across the bridge and stack their belongings safely off to one side.
"We'll try the mules first," Loghain decided when that was done. "And Wilf's mare last, as she's heaviest."
Alistair took the first mule across. It planted its feet briefly at the start of the bridge, pausing to look suspiciously at it, but when Alistair chirruped softly it consented to continue forward, crossing without further protest. The second mule went across without any problems at all. They took Lem's horse across next, who clearly disliked the swaying motion of the bridge and stopped briefly twice, freezing in place until the bridge stilled again.
Alistair's gelding proved to be the horse that gave them the most difficulty. It got as far as stepping onto the bridge, then planted it's feet, trembling, before it backed suddenly away, after which it set itself and refused to be brought close to the bridge again.
Lem returned while they were still trying to get the gelding to move. "There's a decent meadow to camp at about another mile further on," he reported, then frowned at Alistar and Wilf's attempts to get the gelding in motion. "Better to leave him be for now, or the other horses will be getting scared of crossing because he's scared. Put him aside and bring him over last; he'll be happier about crossing when all his herd-mates are on the far side."
Loghain had to admit that was good advice, so Brunnera was led back and the stallion brought forward. Like the first mule, he took his time and looked at the bridge before consenting to be led onto it, but once he was in motion he went placidly enough, though his head was down, ears back, and tail clamped the entire way across. Wilf's mare crossed easily, though the amount of creaking the bridge gave off at her greater weight was unsettling, as was the distinct sound of one board cracking, through thankfully not breaking, under her weight.
After that all of them except Lem and the gelding crossed over. Lem spent some time in soothing the unsettled gelding, then led him over to the bridge. Again the gelding refused to step onto it, backing away, eyes showing white.
"Grain the other horses," Lem called across as he calmed the gelding again. "That might bring him over."
"Do it," Loghain told Alistair, who quickly retrieved one of the bags of grain from among their supplies and poured a line of it on the ground to one side. The horses and mules quickly crowded over to it, lowering their heads to lip at it, shoving noisily against each other.
The gelding whinnied, and danced in place briefly, then moved forward and back again. "He's going!" Lem shouted, and moved to one side, then smacked him loudly on the flank. The gelding reared up a little, then bounded forward, hooves clattering noisily on the planks as he plunged across the bridge, only coming to a stop once he was on solid ground again, lathered and excited but safely across. Lem grinned widely as he walked over himself.
"Good job," Loghain said.
"Yeah, well, not the safest way to get him to move along, I've seen a mule go right off a bridge once doing it that way, but mostly once they'd got their eyes on herd-mates and food they'll go the right direction," Lem said, still looking pleased with himself.
It took a while to get all the animals calmed down and tacked up properly again, and all their belongings reloaded; it was already dark by the time they set out for the meadow, opting to lead the animals again rather than riding them.
He couldn't see much of what the meadow was like when they reached it, other than getting an impression that it was reasonably large and filled with long grasses. It being too dark to cast around and find any better spot, they chose to set up camp right where the trail entered it, once again hanging tack and packs from tree branches to keep them up out of the damp, and tying their sodden tent canvas between trees to provide a roof. A cold camp again, all of them feeling wet and miserable, and more than one of them sniffling with incipient colds.
Sun shining in his eyes woke Alistair. The rain had finally stopped some time over night, and the sun was rising over the eastern ridges. He yawned and sat up, groaning as chilled, stiff muscles protested.
Loghain and Lem were in the process of laying a fire, he saw. Loghain looked up at the sound od him rousing, and smiled thinly. "Good, you're up... you can see to making breakfast for everyone. Wake Lem and I once food is ready," he ordered.
Alistair nodded. It was only fair, as the two of them had taken the second watch that night, though as none of them had slept well the last several nights they were all almost equally exhausted. He nudged Wilf awake, and sent him off in search of fresh water for brewing tea, while he gathered more wood and then dug through their packs in search of supplies.
It was good to have a hot breakfast again, even if it was just tea, pan bread, bacon and melted cheese.
"I think we'd best plan to spend at least half the day here, possibly all of it," Loghain said as they ate. "All our gear is damp, and we need to dry our clothing and tent, and care for our weapons and armour and tack, or we'll be having problems with rust and mildew. This meadow is large enough to allow our horses and mules to graze properly while we put ourselves back to rights. And a rest will give the trails time to dry out a little before we're moving on again."
"Sounds good to me," Lem agreed, while Wilf, who was definitely developing a cold, just nodded and sniffled juicily.
They set to work as soon as the meal was done, and soon had a couple of ropes tied up as clotheslines to hang all their dampened gear over to dry in the sun, after which everyone scattered around finding dry seats – rocks and logs, the ground being thoroughly soaked – to sit on while tending to their arms and armour.
Loghain took the time to sort through their provisions, and when he discovered some of the beans and flour had gotten damp, declared that they would indeed be spending the full day there, and put the beans to soak to make their supper out of later. The damp flour he mixed up into biscuit dough to cook for their lunch, frying them in the fat leftover from the morning's bacon, then splitting them open and filling them with cheese and the last of the sour cherry preserves.
Lem went off with his bow after lunch, to see if he could bag any fresh meat, Crunch joining him again. Alistair and Wilf saw to all the horses and mules, grooming them and checking their hooves, while Loghain set the beans to cooking, not bothering to add any meat to the pot since it was reasonably certain that Lem would return with fresh game. As he did, showing up in mid-afternoon with a cleaned goose and a brace of mountain gophers. Alistair cobbled together a spit, and Loghain set Wilf to tending the bird, while Lem cleaned and skinned the gophers.
"Come on," he told Alistair. "Get your sword and shield, time for a little practise. The workout will do you good."
Alistair groaned, but didn't protest. They practised for a while, though not as energetically as they might have, the day having turned both hot and humid.
"Can I have a go?" Lem asked eventually, from where he was sprawled nearby watching them, his earlier task done.
Loghain nodded. "Certainly. Against Alistair or myself?"
"I get the feeling you'd be the bigger challenge," Lem said.
Loghain grinned. "Possibly. Would you prefer me with sword and shield, or dual weapons?"
"Maker... dual weapons, I suppose, I'm more used to bar fights than going up against trained knights."
Loghain nodded, and set aside his shield, drawing a long knife for his offhand instead.
Alistair watched with interest as the two sparred. He'd seen Loghain fight with two weapons before, enough to know that the man was good at it. Their match proved interesting, Loghain being slowed a little by his heavier armour, but having a longer reach of arm as well as a longer weapon in his main hand. He also clearly knew tricks that Lem didn't, the smaller man having to fight hard to keep up his side of things. Lem was clearly enjoying it though, a pleased smile on his face as their sparred.
"I definitely wouldn't want to have to go up against you for real," he said after Loghain finally called a halt.
"You do reasonably well with knives when they're not even your primary weapon," Loghain assured him. "You just need more practise with them."
Wilf wanted to spar by then too, so Loghain oversaw a short match between him and Alistair while Lem took over tending to the roasting goose. His hammer turned out to be a difficult weapon for Alistair to face; the most he could do was try and deflect blows with his shield, and even that he couldn't keep up for long, the impacts were so bone-bruisingly hard. He was relieved when Loghain called a halt to the match.
It was good to have another warm meal that evening, all of them making appreciative sounds over the roasted goose and beans, accompanied by hot sweet tea. It was even better to retire early to a warm, dry bedroll, and know that this night, at least, even with watches still being kept, they'd all get enough sleep, and another hot meal come morning, the plump gopher carcasses having been buried in a covered pot in the coals to braise overnight.