Kelton could feel the skin shifting on his hands, something that normally escaped his notice. He swung the blade as he had done a thousand times, cutting down another small bush along the barely-there trail. Small cloth bandages were tied tightly around two fingers where blisters had appeared during his labors. Tarvakian had thankfully cut down the time of each shift, allowing his property's hands to rest. It wasn't difficult work, but the redundancy had taken a toll.

The river crossing had progressed with nary an issue. The horse's hoofs tended to disassemble the makeshift stone ramps, yet the rock held together long enough for the wagon wheels. They would have to be reinforced on the return. Grag's blades made easy work of the vegetation if kept sharp. Honing the edges was done twice a day, which allowed for more time to rest sore hands.

It was the night that was hardest. The sounds of the jungle were relentless. Constant scurrying, growling, and strange yells from unknown creatures made sleep difficult. That, and the thought of the myriad of strange insects that crawled about. Kelton had never seen so many colors and oddities on critters smaller than his thumb. Some were iridescent and looked more like a precious bauble for a necklace — others sporting vicious-looking pincers that spoke of their predatory nature. There were trails of ants, each carrying a portion of leaf many times their size as if orchestrated by a single mind. Amazing and frightening all at once. The thought of unknowingly sleeping in their path did little for a peaceful slumber.

"More of the same," Filgot said as he returned from a short scout ahead. He, and the other guards, were all on foot. The horses were allowed to trod along riderless behind the wagons since the speed of travel was so slow.

"I am not sure what I expected," Kelton said as he stretched his back to ease the pain he felt growing there. "Mayhap, village ruins or descendants of the Nagada eking out a living." He looked into the trees and shook his head. "We could be a stone's throw from a city and never see it."

"I thought we seek profit," Filgot said.

"Aye, and that we will find at the end of the path," Kelton said with a sigh. "I have dreams of other things. I fear I'll learn nothing of what was."

"There are many days of travel left." Filgot shrugged.

"If our hands hold out," Kelton said, then walked forward and butchered a sapling that was struggling to grow in the center of the aged path. The deeper they went, the more trampling they found along with more exposed dirt. Most of the plants barely rose to Kelton's waist now. He wondered what kinds of animals traversed the way. The noise of the wagon's passage surely kept them deep in the trees.

"Is it time to switch?" Tarvakian had snuck up, catching Kelton unaware.

"I can go a little longer, Master," Kelton said. Borlin, a cook who wore the copper, agreed with the assessment and continued cutting greenery to the ground. Kelton figured that the longer they worked, the longer the break that would follow.

"Not as exciting as you hoped?" Tarvakian asked. He was smiling in a knowing way.

"Aye, Master," Kelton said as he continued the trimming. "I had hoped for a sign of the Nagada by now. Mayhap, they are lost to time."

"We can walk past a thousand folk and not know it, as thick as these woods are," Tarvakian said, then looked up. "It could rain, and we wouldn't know it for an hour."

"I looked ahead, if such a thing can be said in this place, sir," Filgot said. "The path stays generally west. The rising and falling continue as far as I can tell. It is a good thing it is not raining, these rivulets would be waist-deep in a downpour."

The land wasn't flat, as much of their travel to the Lacor river had been. The jungle was an undulation of hills and valleys. None of which were unusually high or low, just unending. Kelton assumed it was molded by constant rainfall during the wet season. The same rain that flooded the Lacor river every year.

"Choose a good rise, Filgot," Tarvakian said. "We will hold for the midday meal. Best if we make a practice of only stopping at the high points, so we don't end up swimming if the weather turns against us."

"Aye, sir," Filgot replied and moved off to scout for a temporary camp.

"Have heart, Kelton. By the look of it, something travels this way from time to time," Tarvakian said. "Mayhap, you will still find a sign or two of the Nagada. Though if I were them, I would have left this place generations ago. Too many things crawl around here."

"What odd deer," Taggert whispered, and pointed back the way they had come. He and Kelton sat on the back of the still wagon chewing on dried meat. The sun, high in the sky and filtered through the dense canopy, painted bright spots on three animals that were entering the trail. They were smaller than the deer Kelton had known in the past, the size of fawn yet possessed of cautious maturity. They all had dull black strips along the spine that blended into the brown fur that covered the rest of them. One sported strange antlers that looked goat-like. Two spiral funnels that curved backward. Had they been pointing up or forward, they would have projected a viciousness to be wary about. Instead, they looked useless for defense since the points arced toward the ground.

"Shhh," Kelton warned as he studied the creatures. They gathered fully onto the path and began to chew on the fresh-cut and trampled plants that marked the troop's passing. He wondered about intelligence, for surely the horses and wagons would be seen as a threat. Most deer steer far from humans, and farther still from lumbering beasts pulling loud carts.

One of the horses whinnied, and the deers' heads rose, their bodies froze still as they ascertained the direction of the sound. Some laughter from the front of the caravan cemented the threat and the two un-horned deer leapt into the foliage. The horned one waited a moment longer, than slowly followed the other two. Kelton recognized the proudness in the horned deer's movements. He was the protector and would keep himself between any threat and the other two.

"They hardly made a sound," Taggert said.

"Aye, they move through this land well," Kelton agreed. "It is as if they float above the deadfall. I can hardly take a step into those trees without something snapping."

"Mayhap, they are many and are the reason this path is clean."

"They could be," Kelton said. "It is not like we can hear them moving. It is lucky we saw them at all."

"It means there may be bigger beasts about. Ones with more teeth." Taggert grinned as he spoke.

"Aye," Kelton said with a nod. The thought coming from Taggert surprised him. Not everyone would recognize that large meat meant large predators. "It is a good thing you wear a sword."

"I think we are too many and too loud for whatever roams these trees." Taggert shrugged. "They would stick to something docile, like those deer. A good fire at night and a wary guard will keep us safe."

"You have changed," Kelton acknowledged. It wasn't long ago when Taggert displayed his fear outwardly. Now, it was held inside under cloak of confidence.

"I'm either a guard or not, Kelton. I desire Filgot's position when he is through with it, so I must become what I was not. I train with the sword every morning and have bested Filgot once or twice." Taggert smiled. "No one will harm this family while we breathe." He bit off another piece of jerky and chewed as if he owned the world.

"May you breathe forever, Taggert," Kelton said and meant it. It was comforting to know he could drop his guard because Taggert didn't. Sleep would come easier in the noise of the jungle.

Taggert's voice dropped low, and he leaned close to Kelton. "I don't know my symbols and sums, though. Filgot says there are times when it's needed, more so than the sword."

"With that, I can help," Kelton said. "I am sure Master would allow me the time. It never hurts to have more who can read and scribe."

"I would be in your debt."

"Property are not allowed coin or debts," Kelton said with a chuckle. "Your thanks will be enough, as the betterment of the house is in both our interests."

Kelton dropped off the wagon and found a stick. He cleared a small area on the ground, leaving only bare dirt, then waved Taggert over to sit with him. They spent the midday break drawing letters in the soil. First, Kelton would scribe, then Taggert would repeat the symbol. Kelton marveled at Taggert's motivation. Kelton began to understand why Korvin valued teaching. The giving of knowledge was as enjoyable as acquiring it.

The storm was the worst Kelton had ever experienced, at least without snow. If it weren't for the thick barrier of trees, he was sure the entire party would have been swept into the air and thrown to their deaths. They had lashed the wagons to the trees that bordered the path in an attempt to stop them from sliding downhill in the growing mud. Tarps were fixed under the windward side of the wheels and thrown over the wagon to create a windbreak and keep the supplies and cloth bolts dry. The horses were hitched to the leeward side of the wagons, and the humans huddled underneath.

Small streams of water formed and flowed under the wagons making sitting uncomfortable. The driving rain was relentless as Taggert and Kelton began to dig near the windward side. Tarvakian yelled something, but Kelton only caught part of it due to the noise of the wind ripping through the trees.

"What are you doing?" Tarvakian repeated loudly. This time Kelton was able to watch his lips and decipher the words.

"Steering the water," Kelton yelled. He used his hands to indicate where the small trench was meant to be. To his surprise, Tarvkian nodded and pulled out a dagger and began to assist. Others, tired of wet backsides, followed his lead, and they soon had the bulk of the water running around them.

They could hear weak branches losing their grip and snapping off. The wagon almost seemed to be breathing as each gust of wind would shift it slightly, then relax.

"Ever see the like?" Taggert yelled near Kelton's ear. Kelton shook his head, finding the gesture an easier response than speaking.

"A sea tempest," Tarvakian yelled. Some of the others nodded. Kelton had seen storms in Aragonia move in from the sea, but none with the power this one displayed. It cut through the trees as if it meant to uproot them all. He was glad they were far from the coast, or at least he hoped they were. Both he and Filgot were reasonably sure they were moving west the past seven days, but the movement of the sun wasn't apparent midday. The morning and evening sun movements were certain, even through the thick canopy. They had followed the trail to ease passage and only deviated direction when it had. By their observations, the deviations were short and done to avoid difficult land. Be it animal or ancient man; something took the easiest route.

It was half a day before the wind and rain began to abate. The lessening was heralded by a chorus of lightning and thunder that had been oddly missing in the middle of the squall. Everyone remained under the wagons as the worst of it flowed to the south with the wind.

"Scribing?" Tarvakian asked. Talk was easy again, and Kelton decided it was a good time for Taggert to return to the lessons. The mud the rain generated made it a simple task.

"Aye, sir," Taggert replied. "I intend to seek Filgot's position when he tires of it. Kelton offered to teach me what I need to know."

"I did not think you would mind, Master," Kelton said.

"You thought correctly." Tarvakian smiled. "Though I think you should mention your intent to Filgot, Taggert. He may think you desire it this day." Filgot was under the supply wagon and not privy to the conversation.

"It is he who encourages me, sir. I am thinking it is many years away, and it may take that long to learn all that he does. It is hard to grasp all these symbols." He pointed at the character Kelton had drawn in the mud.

Tarvakian nodded. "Seek out Vasco when we return, Kelton. Have him grant time to teach Taggert each week." Another guard who had been watching the lesson closely went wide-eyed. Tarvakian's smile grew. "And any other who feels the need to know if you think you can teach more than one."

"Aye, Master," Kelton replied. A surge of excitement ran through him. Becoming a teacher like Korvin had a strong appeal.

Tarvakian signaled for the lesson to continue and leaned back against the wheel that he claimed as a chair back. "It is a good thing," he mumbled to himself as he seemed to get lost in his thoughts.

Kelton and Taggert continued. The other guard, Soulard, scooted closer and watched with intent now that Tarvakian had sanctioned the lesson. An idea came to Kelton, as Soulard watched. He shifted to repetition of what Taggert had already learned, letting Taggert show Soulard. Kelton had to correct some symbols, usually drawn backward. Otherwise, it was an excellent way to track Taggert's progression and start Soulard's learning.

Soon, half the wagon was participating, property and guards. Good-hearted laughter at odd errors lightened the mood that had been brought low by the violent storm. It was a good use of rainfall time when nothing else productive could be done and continued until the failing light made it too difficult.

"A waste of a day, sir," Filgot said after the rain had faded away. Dusk was in full force, brought early by the clouds. Splotches of mud decorated the entire party, each backside well wet with it.

"Aye, yet we managed to keep the bolts dry, and the horses are well-rested," Tarvakian said. "We camp here for the night. I hope the kindling remained dry as well. See what can be done about a fire. We need to dry out a bit."

"I am sorry, Master," Kelton said when Filgot moved off. "I did not see the troubles this trip would bring. I saw only profit and the greed of knowledge. I can only hope the profit exceeds the knowledge a hundredfold." He indicated the dense forest. "There is nothing here worth seeing that hasn't been seen the first day, and every day since."

"Mayhap, the trip is wasted, and there is no profit at the end," Tarvakian said with a shrug, then placed his hand on Kelton's shoulder. "It is an adventure, nonetheless. None have made the trip in known memory, yet house Tarvakain fought fear and will be known as the ones who conquered the western way." He chuckled. "None may ever do it again, but I will still have a story for my grandson, will I not?"

"Aye, Master," Kelton said, his heart a little less heavy at the lack of progress. He had envisioned so much more.

"It is my understanding you have spent life in the woods," Tarvakian said, removing his hand and indicating the direction Filgot went. "I am sure a good fire will be a struggle in this wetness. It could use a practiced hand."

"Aye, Master," Kelton repeated, and went off to help Filgot. He found Taggert there, suffering with flint and stone. Filgot was directing others dragging wet deadfall from the trees before night took full grip of the light. It took all of Kelton's experience to build a fire that grew coals hot enough to ignite wet wood.

Taggert smiled at Kelton when they were confident of the longevity of the flames. It was the smile of a friend, not a guard. Was it so wrong to feel at home while being owned? Maybe normalcy in a broken world was finding family among those you would otherwise loath.