The door squeaked almost mournfully as Aya and her mother stepped out into the morning. The moon was almost at the point of setting, indicating that first light wouldn’t be that far behind. In accordance with the time, the ground was hard and cold, though thankfully Aya, this time, actually had boots. As they began trudge down the path toward the village, she turned to glance back to her house.

How small it seemed, the wooden and stone building, with its fenced-in pastures and ramshackle hutches. The magnitude badly contrasted with the visions she had seen, illusory that they may be. But at the same time, she knew that house, its kitchen and her room, the fire pit where one of the rocks sat slightly off from the others. When she was young, she had always had the temptations to shove it, seeing if it would dislodge and roll into the fire.

But she had never done it and it had stood, wedged in place, for her entire life. Now, leaving for places that she had never been, she felt little excitement, only nostalgia. As she turned away, she wondered what her father would think when he awoke to find his wife and daughter missing.

He’d believed that his gods, the ones that she had already prayed to, would be enough to cure her. Her mother had adopted a more ‘pragmatic’ solution and been brutally honest about its contents. But for her father the very thought of it was intolerable. To seek outside help was one thing, but that of a mage? Eventually it had devolved to full-on shouting, and accusations of misplaced faith. When Aya could not bear any more of it, she had stepped in and attempted to make some sort of peace.

When her father brushed her away instead of listening to her, it had hurt, but she understood that there was nothing more that she could do. The argument had more-or-less ceased, but when the morning came her mother awakened her, bade her to get dressed, and then they were off.

As they crested the ridge of the small hill, they noted a small train of carriages and waggons stood within the ring of houses, while smaller fires burned near the edge of the forest. She could hear her mother draw her breath in sharply, setting off a smaller reverberation of panic within Aya.

“Aya, if anyone stops us, just let me speak,” she said as she set off down the hillside.

Aya clambered down after her, wondering just where this influx of people had come from. A handful of times a merchant band came this far north, but generally toward the start of fall, not the middle of summer. They also didn’t stay overnight, only for just enough time to buy and sell what goods they valued.

As they descended onto the main road, Aya got a closer look at the carriage train. Most of it were waggons or carts of some description, filled with barrels and chests. One of the carts was a larger carriage, similar to what the merchants had arrived in. Before Aya or her mother could enter into the central ring, a woman approached them.

She was fairly tall and broad of shoulder, with dark hair tied back in a pony tail. Her eyes where of a pale blue, like glacier lakes, clashing against her darker complexion. Dressed in hard leather but with an array of metal plates across her shoulder and chest, she laid one hand upon a sword at her hip.

“Halt,” she said, which the pair promptly did.

Before the woman could continue, a man in a full set of armour rushed after her, with a quite an angry expression on his face.

“Now listen here-” he huffed before he noticed that she was not alone.

“Identify yourselves,” the woman continued, not seeming to care or notice the man behind her. Before the man or Aya could potentially interject, her mother spoke up.

“We’re villagers, we live up the way,” she said, indicating the direction of their house, as calm as stone.

“And what’s your purpose, at this time of morning?”

“We are heading out to the forest to pick some berries. My husband loves them, so we’d thought to surprise him.”

The woman paused, considering the explanation, before leaving her hand off the sword.

“Very well. Please leave a wide birth between yourself and the carriages.”

Her mother smiled and nodded but before she could set off, the man stepped forward.

“Wait just a moment,” he said, before straitening himself, “You say you’re collecting berries, no?”

“That’s right sir,” her mother replied, though her eyes narrowed at the interruption.

“But if my eyes don’t deceive me, your packs are already full. Surely a momentary excursion would necessitate all that.”

“Well sir, me and my daughter were going to have breakfast on the way. The bushes are slightly far afield, though they get closer every year. Oh! And there may be other things to collect, ones that require particular tools.”

The half-laugh that followed sounded brittle and tense. Her mother was a confident speaker, but lying didn’t come naturally to her.

“I thought you said you wanted to surprise your husband. That sounds like a more protracted journey, doesn’t it?”

“Paladin Niche, I don’t see any reason to continue this line of questioning,” said the woman, who appeared to be growing more irritated by the moment.

“Surely, she wouldn’t find any need to lie to a paladin,” he said.

Aya could see the tension in her mother’s jaw as she bit back words. Before she could say anything, Aya jumped into do what she could.

“My father doesn’t take breakfast with us. He goes straight to the logging site. He only returns for dinner, so my mother and I were talking about a dessert. Not lying, sir.”

The man’s eyes flickered from surprise to outrage in the space that Aya’s triumph went to regret.

“I’m surprised you know what ‘dessert’ is out here,” the man said.

Aya was just about to snap back something about the quality of her family’s cooking, when her mother took her hand and squeezed it hard. At the same time, the woman turned to look at the paladin, anger obvious in her eyes.

“Under what pretence are you detaining these people, Niche?” she asked sharply, who looked taken aback at the sudden imposition.

“They are clearly not telling the whole truth,” he protested.

“So what? Their business is their own. No one who meant to interfere with our duties would do so this brazenly, nor would they come this under-prepared. Let them go, unless you want further embarrassment.”

The man mumbled something about duties and customs, and then turned to walk away. The woman stared after him with thinly-veiled anger, then turned back to the mother-daughter duo.

“My apologies. Please, proceed, but as I said - give the baggage train a wide birth.”

Her mother nodded gratefully and tugged Aya past the woman, departing for the far side of the village. When they had reached the stables, they found a young man waiting for them, a horse in tow.

“Thank the lost,” he said as he saw them approaching, “I’ve been waiting out here for nigh-on an hour, feels like.”

“You’ll be fine,” her mother said as she reaching into one of the many pockets sewed onto her riding clothes and handing him coins. He examined it, counted them painfully slowly, and handed the reins to her.

“Well ma’am. Master Tourdue bids you thanks.”

“Tell him I appreciate him accommodating my rushed request.”

“Will do. Have a good one.”

With that, he dispersed into the house next to the stables, leaving her mother and her standing in the cold.

“Well, let’s get going,” her mother said, “we have a lot of ground to cover.”

She slung up on the horse, offering her hand to Aya.

“Come on, up you come. Use the stirrup, yes, perfect,” she said as Aya clambered up onto the horse, “now, keep yourself straight, proud. Yes, good. Don’t squeeze the horse with your legs anymore than you have to.”

The horse, for its part, snorted and began to trot away. As they crossed down onto the main road, her mother swung to the south and began to run along the road.

“Why aren’t we going west, mama?” asked Aya.

“Because, little one, you remember the encampment at the bottom of the hillside?” her mother said.

Aya exclaimed then fell silent as they moved into the trees.

“Exactly. We’re going to the south, then west, so we don’t run into any more paladins.”

“I thought that paladins were supposed to be nice.”

“They are supposed to be,” her mother snorted, “but reality is rarely so kind.”

As they walked through the trees, their silhouettes growing gradually more clear as the sun rose, Aya thought more about the statement. Once she could stand the silence no longer, she turned to enquire of her mother.

“So you’ve meet them before than, the paladins, I mean.”

Her mother was silent for a good deal longer, her eyes focused on the trees that passed.

“Yes, little one, I have. Once, when I was young,” she said, clearly not desiring to say any more.

The rode in silence for some distance further, then turned out into the woods to the west. They made their way slowly down onto the forest floor, mist rising to meet them as the sun began to shine through the trees. The horse hooves crunched through the quickly melting frost, travelling slowly to ensure that they did not trip over an errant root. By the time the sun was fully in the sky, Aya was sure that she was further afield then she had ever been.

“We’re making good time,” her mother said as they rounded a particular dense grove, “tomorrow, watch for the main river, that’ll mark the half-way point.”

“Does the river have a name?” Aya said, knowing that one of its tributaries curved near their village.

“Not one that I recall,” her mother said as she leaned to glance around and gauge the passage of the sun, “If it does, it would only be known to the older inhabitants of the valley. Perhaps the alderman would know.”

Aya cocked her head, wondering at whether a story would be in short coming. Unfortunately, it seemed that there would be no such opportunity, as they rode on into the morning. After hours of nothing but the sound of the horse’s breath, and the various menageries of the forest, her mother pulled up short.

“I think that’s enough for now, let’s take a little break.”