The trip through the forest was far more relaxed than our near-frantic flight from the mountains. With the barrier of the woods between us and any goblins that might seek to ride us down, everyone rested more easily, and our pace returned to something more sustainable for man and beast alike. All throughout the caravan, people were talking as though the most dangerous part of the journey were behind us.

Two days we drove through the woods, along a well-tended track, staying in prepared campsites that were already stocked with fuel for fires. I did not know whether it was truly the fey creatures that did it, but it was clear that something, or someone, had made it their business to give travelers an easy route through the woods. Which led me to believe that the goblins were definitely not going to be a problem for the rest of our journey.

Who were the protectors of this forest? Why would they do this? A sneaking part of my mind thought that there might be some kernel of truth to the legend of fey in the trees. A clear path and set campsites, with fuel for cooking fires laid out ahead of time? With magic or even a bit of hard work, it would not take much to maintain the clearing, but doing so would discourage travelers from venturing into the woods proper, whether they were searching for firewood or food.

If one wanted to preserve the forest as much as possible, then this was an elegantly effective way to go about it. Why bother forcing a path through the woods, when one already presented itself? Why harm the trees for fuel, when it was already provided? Why risk going out and hunting for game, when there was an aura of magic around the trees, and the path was safe? Everything about the forest path was designed to encourage those who traveled through the forest to preserve the forest, rather than exploit it, and did so in such a way that people may think it was their own idea.

Two days through the forest, and we reached the small town, little more than a waystation, that served as a resting spot at the very edge of the forest. The people here were not the types to buy the goods being transported from the Dale, but they were more than happy to help caravans moving in either direction restock their supplies before continuing on. Indeed, most of their business came from ensuring a caravan had plenty of stores before braving the journey north, for there were no outposts of civilization between here and Sleetmouth itself.

Most of the caravan rested indoors in the inn. Frostmane and I, however, stayed in what was essentially a small stable. It was a simple affair, barely larger than a hut, to be honest, with nothing in the way of furnishings, but it lacked the stink and use of a normal stable. This was, I learned with dinner, a building set aside for rangers, druids, and others who often traveled with animal companions that were too large for the inn. A wizard’s owl familiar might be small enough to rest in the wizard’s room with him, but a druid with a bear as a companion would be a far different story. That it also served as an overflow for the inn, when more travelers than expected were passing through, or as a place for late night rendezvous between lovers was merely a bonus, compared to not risking offense to a potentially powerful druid, when one lived in the wilds.

That morning, we gathered the caravan together for the final leg of our journey. By midday, we could see the walls of Northport in the distance, and I could smell a change in the air, as the wind came out of the west. It was something I half-remembered from my old life, and for a time I tried to place it, until the sight of a bird in the sky above made everything clear. It was the smell of the sea! I had not been close to the sea since being born in this world, but a part of me still remembered going to the beach with family and friends, in my old life.

It was mid-afternoon when we finally reached the gates of the city. Stone walls rose twenty feet into the air, tall enough that they would be a challenge for any monsters to get over, if they could not fly. Upon the walls I could see men patrolling, the city guard no doubt. More men in the same livery stood before the wooden gates, checking those who wished to enter the city.

The guards were, to be kind, not excited to see Frostmane with us. When they got to our wagon, I dismounted, and unfurled my wings, drawing the anxious guards’ attention from Frostmane to myself. “I am Melinda Eriksdaughter, Twice-Souled servant of the Frostmaiden, and this is my companion, Frostmane. Will you allow us to enter the city?”

The guardsman in charge took a breath, and removed his hand from the hilt of his sword. “If you come peaceably, and mean no harm to the city, then you may enter once you pay the fees. But I warn you that you’ll not receive any warm welcome in Northport while you travel with one of the white wolves. Their reputation is well-earned amongst the common folk.”

“I don’t care about the warmth of the welcome. We are not here to seek out conflict, though neither of us will hold back from responding if we are attacked. We were headed to the Plain Sail Tavern, on recommendation of a fellow traveler, to seek companions as we set out on the path of adventurers.”

The guardsman considered for a moment, and then nodded. “In that case, it will be five silvers for you, as you have no identification, and a gold for your companion.” As I paid him the coin, he said, “Be warned, the Guard will be watching you both.”

End of Book 1.