The grass fields outside of Scornubel extended along the Trade Way, further than one could see. Numerous hills filled the plains, rolling like green sea waves, when the wind blew just right. The sight would take anyone’s breath away, as they stood on the dirt road and stared out across the plains.

Expert for Werond.

It wasn’t that she didn’t care for the Emerald Sea, as some chose to call it. Werond took every chance she could to gaze out upon the hills, her chest filling with a sense of wonder. The hills, the vast stretches of grass, all of it mesmerized her, much more than any sight in her home city.

By now, the fields ceased to steal Werond’s breath; instead, they instilled a calmness within her. She yearned for the simplicity of the smaller towns, to wake up to the gentle sound of birds…and not the shouts and screams of a normal Waterdeep workday.

An impossible dream.

Werond leaned against the side of her employer’s wagon as she gazed out upon the fields. Like every wagon in the caravan, it stood tall and wide, with thick canvas drawn over the top to shield the occupants from the weather. Much to her chagrin, her wagon wasn’t for personal use; her employer, a fat, stupid man, had Werond and another teamster drive a wagon full of every kind of pottery. Shelves had been built inside the wagon and solid, multicolor, shiny, and other ugly pots were strapped to them. They took up the entirety of the wagon, forcing Werond to either sleep in the driver’s seat, or on the ground.

“I’m paying for the pots to arrive in Waterdeep in one piece,” the man had said, back when he’d hired Werond in Baldur’s Gate. “and I need all the space in the wagons. Why should I lose money for your comfort?”

“Hell’s take him.” Werond mumbled under her breath. A shout came from the other side of the wagon.

“You say something?” the other teamster yelled.

“No.” Werond yelled back. “Just thinking out loud. How are the horses?”

“Front left seems kind of spooked by something.” The man yelled back. “You ought to take care of it ‘fore we head out. Guard’s won’t be happy if we don’t start moving soon.” The teamster climbed back into the driver’s seat, the wagon rocking as he did.

“Oh sure, because you can’t do it.” Werond mumbled.

Each wagon was pulled by a team of four draft horses, and Werond found to prefer their company over her team, and everyone else in the caravan. Having spent much of her time with the horses, Werond was able to calm them down when no one else could, a feat that only earned her more work. She supposed it was fine; it did make her quite valuable to have.

Werond shoved off the wagon, stretched her legs, and walked the long way around. The entire caravan had halted off the side of the Trade Way, having slept for the night. Now, they waited for the guards, only seven, to ride up and down the wagon train, rousing the merchants and travelers from their slumber. While time was of no concern, she knew that the guard captain liked to cover as much ground as possible each day.

Panicky horses would serve only to irritate him.

As she came to the other side, Werond glanced both ways down the dirt road, a habit from crossing busy streets in Waterdeep. The caravan was long, longer than most, at fifteen wagons. Her wagon sat in the dead middle, which gave her some semblance of safety; if anything decided to attack the caravan, she would have ample time to react.

One of the horses, a large brown, was spooked by something unseen. He wiped his head about, the whites of his eyes showing; the other horses had begun to panic by the time Werond reached him. She laid a gentle hand on its neck, stroking it slowly, and whispered quiet reassurances to the animal.

The horse calmed a moment later.

“You really got a way with them beasts.” The other teamster said from the front of the wagon. He sat high up, above the horses, on a bench that was built to the front, with room for two.

“Guess so.” Werond replied, as she scratched the horse’s neck. “Easier to work with than people.”

The horse closed its eyes, a look of bliss across its face. Werond began scratching with both hands and smiled at the horse’s pleasure.

Near the back of the caravan came the sound of hoofs kicking up dirt; Werond knew it was a riding horse, as the hoofbeats sounded lighter than a draft horse. She turned and watched as the captain of their tiny guard rode up and halted next to her wagon.

The sun glinted from the man’s polished half plate and closed bucket helmet, forcing Werond to squint at him.

“I hate to presume,” the captain started, “but would you be Werond?”

“Yes sir, is there –” Werond began to ask. The captain raised a gloved hand.

“Please, no titles here. I like to think we’re all on first name basis.”

“Of course, Mr…ah…”

The captain laughed.

“Well I suppose it would help if you actually knew my name, huh?” He removed his helmet and shook out flowing locks of pale gold hair and droplets of sweat. His smile reached all the way to his eyes. “I’m Pavel Smith, captain of the little guard we’ve got here. But I think you already knew that.”

“Of course. And I’m Werond,” she said, bowing slightly. “but I think you already knew that.”

“A pleasure Werond. A friend of mine, near the back,” Pavel said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder, “is having trouble with her horses. Something spooked one of them and well, she can’t really calm them down. They can’t hear her.”

“They can’t…hear her?” Werond asked, brows furrowing.

“As I said, they can’t hear her. I haven’t the slightest clue how to calm animals down and well,” Pavel swept a muscular arm across the caravan. “out of everyone here, I’ve noticed you’ve had the most success with them. Think you can help her?”

Werond groaned internally. Damn her knack.

“Sure, I don’t mind.” She said. “but aren’t we moving out soon?”

“Not until this problem gets fixed.”

“Oh. Lead the way then.”

Pavel nodded, and shoved his helmet back on. He gestured at Werond and urged his horse around, before it began walking towards the way he came. Werond waved at the other teamster and fell into step beside the horse.

As they walked down the row of wagons, Werond couldn’t help but steal quick glances over at them; she never had a chance to look at the wagons behind her, as she had no reason to go behind her own.

The wagon directly behind her had only one driver and owner, a man she knew as Lasfelro. He waved at the pair as they walked by, a smile was upon his lips. He never spoke a word to anyone but denied that he was a mute. Werond supposed she had met stranger people.

Behind Lasfelro was Keenblade and his entourage. Larion Keenblade, a name Werond had heard well before she’d join the caravan, had enough coin to own three separate wagons, each one holding different tools of his trade. He was a blacksmith whose services were requested from every corner of Baldur’s Gate, and if the rumor mill could be believed, Larion had received an even larger offer from someone of importance in Waterdeep. An offer large enough to warrant him uprooting his entire business, and shipping it all to the city, some two thousand miles away.

Werond saw no sign of Larion however, as she and Pavel walked past. His armored guards sat at the front of each wagon, looking rather bored.

She walked by disappointed; Werond hadn’t seen Larion yet, as kept to himself during the gatherings at night. But those who had talked with him said he was rather charming, something Werond wanted to confirm herself.

“Have you ever seen a giant bird before?” Pavel almost yelled through his helmet, causing Werond to jump.

“Do you mean eagles?” she asked.

“No, he’s more like a hawk. Well, he’s colored like one I suppose.”

“He?”

“Yes, his name is Cruck’aa, and he’s a new friend of mine. We might see him in a –” Pavel pointed behind the last Keenblade wagon. “Yes, there he is now.”

An Aarakocra, as tall as Werond, stepped out from behind the next wagon. He was indeed hawkish, with plumage that was a mix of brown with white undertones, which paired together with his dark green robes.

He stared intently at his hands – or talons – which were cupped close to his chest. Light reflected from them, and Werond realized he was holding a small amount of water, with a tiny bird perched on his talons.

“Hello Cruck’aa!” Pavel hailed. “Cleaning another bird?”

Cruck’aa slowly turned his narrow face towards Pavel.

Werond shivered.

“Yes Pavel,” he said, his voice flat, “else they get dirty, sitting in those cages.”

“Of course, of course. Have you met Werond?” Pavel gestured at her. Cruck’aa’s beady eyes flicked to her, and back to Pavel. “I’m having her help Serena with the horses. I’d ask you but you’re always busy with the birds.”

“You’d be right.” Cruck’aa said. He turned back to his wagon and climbed in.

Pavel waved goodbye, despite Cruck’aa’s sudden departure.

“He seems…nice.” Werond said.

“In his own way.” Pavel shrugged, and spurred his horse on. “Serena’s cart is right behind Cruck’aa’s – right there.” Pavel pointed some paces in front, to the next wagon in line.

One of the four horses was indeed spooked – by what, Werond didn’t know. Perhaps by whatever had spooked her horse, just moments ago.

She slowly approached and kept her hands in view.

The horse stamped its front legs, nostrils flared, the whites of its eyes showing, but allowed Werond to come close.

She placed a gentle hand on the underside of its neck, and slowly stroked the horse’s mane; Werond murmured to the animal, cooing softly.

The horse ceased its stamping, a single eye fixated on her.

With each stroke, the tension within the horse’s face eased, until the animal finally calmed from her words.

She smiled and continued to stroke the animal’s neck. The horse closed it eyes, just as hers did.

“Well I’ll be damned,” Pavel said from behind her, “how’d you do that? Mine barely listens to me.”

“You need to be gentle with them.” Werond replied. “If you’re calm, then they’re calm…I think. So far that hasn’t failed.”

“Huh! Never would have thought of that. Serena!” Pavel yelled, starling Werond. “Your horse is good, Werond fixed it!”

Werond turned to Pavel, a remark on her lips, when a shower of sparks flew up from the back of the wagon.

She stepped back, eyes wide. “The hell was that?” Werond asked.

Pavel waved a hand. “That means she heard me.”

“What? Is she mute?”

“Well yes…but actually no. Here, you can ask her yourself.” Pavel pointed towards the back, just as the owner of the wagon stepped into view.

She was young, younger than Werond, and perhaps the youngest among the wagon owners. Her white collared tunic was tucked into a long travel skirt and her brown hair was pulled into a low ponytail that lay against her chest. Werond’s eyes caught on the choker that wrapped around the girl’s throat; an odd-looking pendant was strapped to the front, comprised of a moon in front a circle of arrows.

The girl pointed a finger at the horses, her brows furrowed.

“Yup, horse is all good now.” Pavel said, waving her over. “Have you met Werond by the way?”

The girl brightened upon seeing Werond, and began making her way over to them, a spring in her boot. Two tanned points jutted from amidst the girl’s hair and Werond realized she was an elf. Although the girl’s face seemed somewhat more rounded than a full-blooded elf.

“Serena, this is Werond,” Pavel said through his helmet, as Serena halted before them. “Werond, this is the woman whom the horses couldn’t hear, Serena.”

Serena smiled, her blue eyes crinkling.

It had been sometime since Werond had seen anyone smile that genuinely.

Serena’s lips formed a silent ‘oh’; she grabbed the sides of her skirt, and curtsied towards Werond, head bowed. Werond’s heart leaped into her throat, and she waved a hand.

“O-oh, no need for that! Pavel said you needed help and I wasn’t busy so…”

The girl nodded and raise her hands up to her chest; her fingernails were painted black, freshly painted; Werond squinted at them, before Serena’s hands twisted into a flurry of motion.

“Sorry for being formal but I really appreciate the help!” a silvery voice rang out in Werond’s head, causing her to jump. It was a pleasant voice, an inviting voice, but it was not her voice. “Sometimes it’s hard for animals to hear me, and the horse was scaring me, so I didn’t know what to do.”

Werond stared at Serena with wide eyes and glanced at Pavel. He scratched the side of chin and said, “She’s a sorcerer.” as if it was a valid answer.

Serena blinked; her tanned cheeks became flushed, and she launched into a flurry of signs.

“Oh, sorry!” Her voice rang out; her hands blurred but Werond still heard Serena’s voice. “I completely forgot! I’m mute. I can’t make a single sound from my mouth! I talk with my hands instead.”

“H-how?!” Werond asked, eyes wide.

“That’s a long story. I guess it’s like telepathy, maybe? I –”

A shrill whistle sounded from the front of the wagon train.

On cue, the travelers and teamsters still loitering around the road began climbing back into their wagons.

“Oh, guess I waited too long. Well, they’ll need me at the front.” Pavel said, as he tugged on the reins, urging his horse around. “Thanks for the help Werond, see you around Serena!” He raced off towards the front wagons as they slowly began to creep forward. Werond watched him, then turned back to Serena.

“Uh, I need to go back, but I’m glad your horse –”

“Wait!” Serena signed, panic in her eyes. The center wagons had begun to move. “I need a teamster, and the horses can’t hear me, and I don't want something like this to happen again!. Can I hire you? Please?”

“I’m already on with –”

“What did they pay you, standard fair?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“I’ll buy you out your contract. How’s fifteen gold now, and fifteen at Waterdeep?”

Werond blinked.

The wagon in front had begun to move, and they were up next.

Without a word, she walked past Serena, and hopped into the teamster’s seat.

Serena beamed, and pulled herself up next to Werond.

“Thank you!” Serena signed, as their wagon began to move. “Honestly, I didn’t know what else to do if you said no.”

Werond grinned.

“You’d be left out to dry, huh boss?” Serena’s hands twitched, and a melodious laugh echoed through Werond’s head.

She blinked rapidly; Serena’s voice wasn’t unpleasant – if anything it seemed to pull Werond in. But having a different voice inside her head felt unnatural.

Serena caught Werond’s discomfort and grimaced.

“I know, sorry, it’s really weird. Everyone gets used to it after a while though, but I’m sorry if it makes you comfortable. That’s…kind of a habit of mine.”

Werond shook her head, as she pulled on the reins. “Nah, it’s fine. I’m just not used to it. You’re not even close to some of the worst employers I’ve had.”

“Really?” Serena asked, as their wagon jerked forward. “Even the wagon you were just on?”

“Yup. I’d rather work under someone as cute as you than that fat old man up there.”

Serena blinked.

Werond’s body warmed uncomfortably, as she realized what she had said.

“S-sorry,” she stammered, “unprofessional language boss, didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I don’t mind.” Serena signed. “Honestly, it was just a slip.” She paused, her face becoming flushed again, be she signed, “Uh, anyways, I’ll be in the back. The last man that owned the cart left a bunch of ruined silk that I’m trying to salvage…uh, let me know if you need me, okay?”

Werond nodded and turned her head towards the road as Serena climbed over the bench and into the back.

The moment her new employer was gone, Werond looked towards the sky and cursed herself.