When Arn went to the Small Council, he planned to take the journey alone, he wasn't a child anymore, and he'd get by somehow. However, he witnessed his father's preparations during the past week and learned that he knew very little of long journeys through the wilderness.

Thank the spirits for The Black Warden, he thought, then wondered whether the spirits would even want such credit. The journey to Naradael was far longer than he envisioned. His meagre preparations would have, at most, carried him through the first day or two, after which he'd have likely perished of lack of water, food, or from hypothermia.

The night before their departure came quickly, and Arn and his father stood over a map in the clan hall. The rest of the family were asleep, though Sarhaa joined them a few minutes after they started. Despite their best efforts, she wouldn't leave, and Atrel eventually relented, conceding that this would be a good lesson for the future.

The map before them depicted Oshaaland, one of the seven provinces of Nedreal. Arn's father marked their journey with a special pen that could be erased later.

"Whether we need to keep our journey from prying eyes or simply to clear the map for the future, this is the practice you must follow," he held up a soft rubbery ball and rubbed it on some of the writing - it was gone within seconds. Arn and Sarhaa nodded with interest.

"Here we are," his father said, pointing at Nysaros. "We'll leave early tomorrow and follow the Hillside way along the river until we reach the Mountainview Bridge. And if all goes well, we should make it to the bridge ahead of nightfall and camp there."

"You know all about camping," Sarhaa teased Arn.

"It wasn't my fault!" he protested.

"Lower your voices. It is late. Save this for later. I mean to finish our path then go to sleep. A long day awaits us, Arn," his father said, a stern and tired look upon his face. The two of them quieted.

"Now then," Atrel continued, "after the bridge, we'll continue along the Hillside way until the Old Fort - it's a large inn and resupply center for travellers," he explained to the two of them.

"We'll spend the night there and take our time to resupply before heading over to the Southern Outpost," he moved his finger to an image of a small tower at the southern part of a mountain pass.

"The Mountain Pass can be unpleasant, but it shaves weeks off the journey. Unfortunately, there aren't easy paths through the Grandfather Mountains or the Aldar forest," Arn's father stood up and stretched his back. He humphed and leaned on the table again.

"If all goes well, we should cross the pass in four days. The southern outpost provides mountain horses - they feel at home in the rocky paths."

Atrel looked the map over then pointed at the second small tower at the northern end of the mountain pass. "Once we reach the northern outpost, the hard part will be behind us. It's another supply stop, and then we'll be off to the ferry docks to get across the Arm of Arngosadar - that's another river," he said and pointed at the long blue line that snaked from the mountains and all the way across the map to the Samaroan sea.

"The northern shore of the river is home to the Caravan hub, and we'll join one that allows it, and before you know it, we'll reach Naradael."

Arn couldn't sleep that night, the excitement kept him up until well past midnight, and when he finally closed his eyes, his father shook him awake.

"We've got to get ready, get up, Arn," he heard through the haze of sleep. He tried to hide under the covers, but they were taken away suddenly. Arn groaned and, with great effort, managed to sit up on the bed.

"Come down for breakfast, but get dressed first," his father said and left the room. So Arn took his time, which he was reminded of by the occasional summons he heard from the clan hall. When he finally came down to the hall, he saw his sister, grandmother, great uncle Goren, and great aunt Analen. By the sounds from the kitchen, his mother must have been working on breakfast.

"You're all up early," he mumbled, and half sat, half slumped on a chair.

"I like the quiet of the morning," Mama Elo said.

"I like the quiet from your great uncle Sead - he tells lovely stories, you know, but sometimes the silence is lovelier," Arn's great aunt Analen added and smiled. They all chuckled, and Arn felt himself slowly awaken.

The rest of the family poured in by the time Arn had finished breakfast. His mother brought out food and joined them while uncle Doren took her place in the kitchen. They all wished Arn and his father well on their journey. Sarhaa expressed her jealousy that Arn would see the capital, but everyone reassured her that her time would come soon enough.

A few hugs and kisses later, he and his father were off on their way, laden with heavy backpacks and a long road ahead.

"We'll need to stop by the charms shop on our way out," his father said.

"The one thing we forgot!" Arn said, "a week of preparation, and we forget the charm!"

"We didn't forget, Arn. For a journey like this, I requested a specially made one for each of us."

"Oh," Arn said, "they specially make charms for each journey?"

"Not any journey, no, but a difficult one, and the first one for you, that's an occasion which calls for it," his father said and patted Arn on the back.

They soon passed the residential part of Nysaros. The smells and sounds of the industrial sector slowly took over. The sounds he didn't mind so much, metal on metal, sowing of wood, and other sounds he couldn't quite identify. The smells were another thing altogether - some of the stronger and more pungent were no less than an assault on his nose. He eventually covered his face with a hand, his father chuckled.

Finally, they reached the last row of buildings where they found the charms shop. It had no foyer, and the second they entered, a discontented voice ordered them to hurry and close the door. The entire building was nothing more than a large, long hall with four chimneys heating it up. A few feet from the entrance was a tall counter with a heavily scuffed wooden top. A few tomes lay to one side. Arn had assumed they were ledgers of some sort.

The Charmcrafter's voice came from deep in the hall, beyond the rows of shelves that were laden with dozens, if not hundreds of different charms. Arn never realized how many different types there were.

Shortly following the footsteps, a tall and lanky woman, older than his mother but younger than his grandmother, came up to the counter. She stood an inch or two taller than his father and only just glanced at Arn. Then, she straightened her thick leather apron and greeted his father.

"Atrel," she said, the hint of a sneer on her face. What is that about, Arn wondered.

Arn's father smiled. "In the flesh, dear Pathal," he said and lightly bowed his head.

"Unfortunately," she replied.

"Well, not that I don't appreciate your hospitality - but we're here for a reason."

"Taking the son, aren't you? Not enough that you move around like the Northern Wind, you need to drag a child into it?"

Arn's face burned - child? He fumed. His father only smiled and motioned towards the shelves of charms behind Pathal.

The woman shook her head and looked at Arn with a mix of pity and scorn on her way to fetch the charms they came to pick up. She brought a small cloth-wrapped bundle with a thin leather belt around it.

"Here we are then. I don't need to remind you to activate them," Pathal said.

"No, you don't, but you just did." His father took the charms and placed them in his backpack. He bowed his head lightly once again and received a scowl for his trouble. "Come on, Arn," he said, and the two of them left.

"She doesn't like you," Arn said once they moved far enough from town for the smells to die down. The fresh scents of the forest were a welcome change.

"No, she does not," his father chuckled.

"Why?"

"That really doesn't matter right now."

"What was that about the charms having to be activated?" Arn asked.

"Oh, yes - you're going to study Charmcrafting, so this will come in handy," his father said.

"So, what is it?"

"Don't be so hasty, Arn - we have a long journey ahead. A charm made for a specific journey must be activated on the first night of the said journey. You'll see how it's done soon enough."

Arn sighed and let the matter drop. Instead, he turned his attention to the forest around them. It vaguely reminded Arn of the dreams he'd been having lately, though the ravens were absent. He wondered what they meant or even whether they had any meaning to begin with. Could they simply be dreams with no meaning? He doubted that - there was something very unusual about them.

The road they followed descended gradually towards the Snowy River, and he soon heard the sounds of water. The trees to either side of the road stood close together, their canopies blocking out most of the sky and shielding them from the wind. A pleasant stillness hung about, and Arn found great comfort in it.