They made camp for the night close enough to the road but secluded behind some snow covered trees. There was a small frozen creek nearby, which could serve as a source of water. But Brytha had cautioned him against it, telling him it was better to drink cider or wine while one is traveling. She had warned him about indigestion, upset stomachs, and possible death. The last one he hoped it was added just for emphasis but he wasn't risking a drink just to prove Brytha wrong. The merchant busied herself making her own meal, and everyone separated into their own groups. It would be strange to stay in the caravan so he hesitantly made his way over to the merchant woman and offered to help her start a fire.

"That's kind of ye," said the woman, "I'm Sanice." She was bundled up in her winter furs, so it was hard to make out her face, but she sounded pleasant enough. She did pull off her glove when she held out her hand to Nikolas

"Sanice," Nikolas nodded, taking the hand she offered to him, "Pleased to meet you." The hand was calloused from the reins, and she wore a ring on her hand, no doubt her signet ring.

So Brytha did send him off with a reputable merchant, he thought, but then reprimanded himself for doubting his sister. Brytha could be many things but she did not sabotage her siblings. She was above such lowly things. He smiled politely at Sanice and she gestured for him to sit down with her. But she didn't travel alone, no that would be foolish of a merchant to do so. There were two other merchant women with Sanice, and they quickly started a conversation that reminded him too much of his time with Brytha in her study. He half expected them to take out quills and books and start asking him questions about his sister's acquisitions and mergers on the spot.

"Would you like some food?" Sanice said, gesturing towards the small pot bubbling merrily on the fire.

Nikolas shook his head, gesturing towards his pack and hoping that his sisters did pack him something. This earned him a hearty chuckle from her.

"Look, boy, if you're hungry all you need to do is ask. I will take offense if you help yourself afterwards." Then she gave him a kindly smile that reminded him of their old cook Warada.

Warada had left years ago, presumably, Nikolas heard, to go back home. But he knew what the other maids whispered that she was a witch and it was to keep their family out of trouble. They were no longer under the protection of Nikolas's mother after all. He didn't believe them, Warada didn't do witch magic, she did the little magics that made her cooking all the more nicer and he missed coming into the kitchen and seeing her busy at her work. She was the only person that he could talk to about Felie.

But she was gone now, and he hoped that wherever she was, she could make her cakes and sit back to bask in the praise that her eager family would no doubt give her. On the day she'd left, she'd knocked on Nikolas's door and given him a final present. Warada had given him a sad, fond smile before pressing a wrapped package into his hands.

'They are very hard, so don't eat them, but I can't bring to throw them away.'

Nikolas had carefully unwrapped them to see the cookies that Felie had made with Warada so many years ago. There was a sheen on them, like amber, and he could make out the small fingerprints and the lopsided raisins. He could almost smell the butter, hear the laughter of Ada and Felie as they threw flour at each other.

'Thank you, Warada.'

The older woman had embraced him, before hefting her bundle of possessions over one shoulder and making her way laboriously down the stairs. He had rushed to the window and seen Aldeim and Warada embraced before she got into a rickety wagon and waved for the driver that she was ready to go.

"Are you going to eat it or not?"

"Oh? Sorry, Sanice, I was thinking," Nikolas began.

He hesitantly took her offer of two bread rolls and dried meat to go with them. Then he looked towards her guards, six Rytsars seated by their own fire. They were very young Rytsars, they couldn't be much older than Nikolas. Their conversations, therefore, wouldn't be that hard to follow. Perhaps they might also tell him where he ought to go in Prebovna. There must be something for him there, it couldn't be that Prebovna had no use for someone like him. He was... no he wasn't clever, but he was adaptable. That was right, he was capable and he would now go over, introduce himself and ask the men what they were talking about.

"Please excuse me, Sanice," he said, inclining his head to each merchant in turn and making his way over to the Rytsars.

As he walked away he heard them talking, in the way one does when one didn't care for eavesdroppers.

"That boy won't last a day in Prebovna," it was said rather flippantly and Nikolas felt his stomach churn in his throat.

"Brytha put him forward, I'm sure he'll manage fine," that was Sanice, and she sounded matter of fact.

He knew that she had no affection or allegiance to him but Nikolas let out a relieved breath nonetheless. She was talking about Brytha, and Brytha could be harsh when she wanted to be. But in this case she must have been kind with her words. Unless Sanice meant something else? He shook his head to clear it and then approached the group of Rytsars. His bag clinked softly as he moved, and peering carefully inside he noticed that there were two bottles wrapped protectively in his shirts. Cider, he guessed, wine would be very expensive and a wine stain would no doubt be hard to get out of a white shirt. He let out a relieved breath, reminding himself to thank his sisters in the letter he would eventually write home. Or more likely, ask someone to write for him. But for now though, he practiced a grin and settled on a less manic one. For now a bribe would work when his skills wouldn't. Nikolas took another deep breath before walking up and sitting down next to a Rytsar with the friendliest face.

"Good evening," said Nikolas evenly. He smiled again, and crossed his legs nervously, "I'm Nikolas." He popped open the bottle and held it out to the man, and then around in the circle, a peace offering.

"Thank you," said the Rytsar, a delighted grin coming to his face. "Nikolas was it? I'm Tino." He'd pulled the scarf down his face to eat and the edges of it was fluttering in the wind. His accent was of the south, and he was sandy haired and tawny, possibly freckled if there was enough sun in the summer. Tino took a swig and passed the bottle around to the other men, who chimed in with their names so fast Nikolas couldn't catch them all.

"Where are you going?" Tino asked, conversationally, breaking bits of his bread and dipping it into the wooden bowl balanced precariously in front of him.

"To Prebovna," said Nikolas, willing himself to calm down. He needed to watch his words here, he needed to not look too eager. No one liked giving advice to someone who looked desperate. No one ever helped a beggar.

"Seeking your fortunes huh?" said Tino, nodding his head sagely. "Don't take any offers from Voevada Laberts, whatever she offers isn't worth it, right boys?"

The other Rytsars all nodded grimly. One spat on the ground next to him for emphasis.

"How so?" This was a rather rare show of disgust. He hadn't heard of Voevada Laberts, but then again, he hadn't spoken to his mother in years.

Tino glanced over his shoulder, as if to confirm that Sanice and the other merchants were not listening or paying attention before leaning in to say to Nikolas, in very conspiratorial tones, "She's a witch."

"Oh?" Maybe Jozin knew her. That was a rather dangerous trade, being a witch in the city of Prebovna.

"She's in the Tsarina's favor," Tino continued. "So no witch hunter's knocking on her door. I know they want to though, they haven't had a good hunt in months. Last I heard those poor bastards were commiserating with the seamstresses." He chuckled, "They were thrown out 'cause they got no coin. Broke, the lot of them. But we all know they're miserable fucks, all of them, don't we boys?" Nods of agreements followed his statement. Timo crossed his arms and declared firmly, "No one goes witch hunting willingly."

"Not as a trade?" Nikolas suggested. The bread and meat tasted suddenly very dry and sour in his mouth. He hadn't thought much about witch hunting, and he hadn't asked Jozin what it was that he was doing these days. Jozin seemed more interested in asking what Nikolas was doing and Nikolas humored him. On the occasion that Nikolas had asked Jozin had simply pulled out a book and started reading him a story. It was nice hearing his voice, sometimes Jozin would change pitch depending on the character, so Nikolas never wanted to ask him something that Jozin had made clear he didn't want to elaborate on.

"Hm," Tino nodded. He looked as if he wanted to say more but then shook his head.

Nikolas looked over his shoulder to see that Sanice was approaching. The snow crunched under her feet, breaking the silence that fell over the Rytsars. It was the look on her face that made Nikolas pause. She looked too grim for it to be a simple telling off.

"There's something out there," Sanice said, and she held a crossbow in her hands.

This garnered immediate reaction from the Rytsars, they all got to their feet, reaching for their swords and pikes. There were two wagons, placed side by side, but Nikolas, looking back, could see that the two other merchants were busy arranging them to form a makeshift half-wall so they would be facing whatever came at them. He swallowed nervously, reaching for his belt and wishing that Brytha did tell him what to do if strange things happened at night. The locket he wore around his neck, the gift his mother gave to all her children upon their births suddenly felt warm. It had never felt like this before, except the day Jozin's mother had touched it. Even with Nikolas's limited knowledge of magic, he knew this was not a good sign.

"Get behind me," said Sanice, motioning furiously for Nikolas to retreat.

He rushed behind her and saw the other merchant women approaching. They had weapons as well, magical weapons, Nikolas noted. The crossbows they held out had wizard runes carved on them. No doubt the bolts that they were loading were also enchanted, and as they walked past him to stand by Sanice, he saw that he was right. There were glowing blue runes on the bolts.

Then he heard it, a murmur at first, which sounded like the wind rustling through dead leaves on a cold autumn. Then it became louder and louder, like locusts on a warm summer night.

"What in Goddess—" Sanice began.

What in Goddess indeed. The creatures that came from the trees were not… not animals. Nikolas knew that for sure. They had… he had to swallow bile, they had no fur or feathers he could recognize. Snakeskin, he thought wildly, that was the closest he could think of. But snakes did not walk on two legs. Then one of them opened their mouths and let out that horrifyingly silent scream.

"OUT!" Sanice shouted, pushing Nikolas towards the wagon and rushing to jump onto the driver's seat, "OUT, OUT, WE ARE LEAVING!"