Over the next couple of days, Faye found the air grow thicker, denser somehow. She did not say anything at first but soon enough figured she had to mention something. It was when they woke on the morning of the third day out from Srúta’s Hamlet that she had to say something.

“Is the air getting thicker, or is it my imagination?”

Gavan looked over as he quickly twisted up his bedroll. “Hmm. No and no.”

Faye frowned, pausing as she took up her own bedroll. “Sorry, how does that work?”

“Well,” Gavan said, with a small grin, “no, the air is not getting thicker, but also no, it is not your imagination… because the mana is getting denser.”

“And the mana being thicker makes the air feel heavier?” she said. “That hardly makes sense.”

“Where did you get the idea the air is getting thicker from?” he asked, “it isn’t at all. But the greater the concentration of mana, the more your body will react to it. You are still not quite used to it, so the effect is pronounced.”

“How does it feel for you?” she asked.

“Mostly a relief,” he said, “as if I am stepping into a warm bath after a day out in the cold. Except, instead of being in the cold I was without as much mana.”

“But you lived in Lóthaven for years.”

“And it took months to get used to the lower mana density.”

Faye considered it for a second. “Does that mean that if I had landed in the middle of a mana-dense area, my mana sickness would have been much worse than it was in the Guild Hall?”

Gavan thought about it for a few moments and shrugged. “Possibly. I am not sure. We don’t know enough about what brought you here to say for certain. It could be that the area you entered the world was a key component of many aspects of your situation.”

“Meaning?”

“Well, perhaps if you had landed elsewhere, you might not have started at level one.”

Faye shook her head. “Nope. No. I refuse to entertain that as a possibility.”

Gavan laughed. “Why not?”

“Because that’s too damn unfair! No. I’m going to believe that actually, I was incredibly lucky to have touched down in the wilderness around Lóthaven, because anywhere with more mana I would have bugged out and died within minutes.”

They both laughed a little as they finished packing up their camp. It had been a chilly night, but they had descended from what Gavan called the High Plains into the lowlands that was starting to morph into the area around Nóremest. The lowlands somehow trapped more heat, though Faye supposed it might have something to do with the increased mana density, too.

She had no idea how magic affected the weather, science, or, well, virtually anything else in this world. Practically, however, it meant that they were not waking up to frost hanging off their hair and bedrolls.

A quick breakfast of their rations and they were on the road again.

They were following the most direct route to the city, but despite that they saw hardly anyone else on the road. This time of year was not popular for travellers. It was only the most desperate that travelled when it was so cold.

The land here was laden with rivulets and small streams, not quite turning the place into a delta-like marsh or swamp, but enough that the road was forced into a circuitous route that wended through the waterways like the path of a drunkard.

“Some people,” Gavan said, pointing out a distant group of travellers, “prefer to ford the rivers rather than follow the road.”

Faye looked over, shading her eyes with a hand, and spotted the group. They were moving north, perpendicular to Faye and Gavan’s route. “Oh, yeah, I see them.”

Gavan made a noise. “They’re fools.”

“Why’s that?” she asked. “We’ve gone off-track plenty of times before now.”

“Yes, but there are the worst stinking bugs in the tall grasses around the waterways here. They infest your clothes, and you don’t get rid of them, or their stench, for days after leaving them behind.”

“Ugh, gross.” Faye looked at either side of the road. The rivulets were not that far away, and there were plenty of places that the road to the city bridged over larger water ways. “We do seem to be rather close to said stinking bugs, though.”

“Relax,” Gavan said, “they’re not flyers. They grab hold when you brush past them.”

“Like ticks,” Faye said, “disgusting. I’m happy to stick to the road.”

They fell silent for a while. Faye realised that although she felt a pressure to get to the city and provide the wider Guild with the news of Lóthaven’s situation, there was a lightness to her walk. She looked around the land, a strange place that seemed wider than anywhere she had ever been, and realised she was actually happy.

“What are you thinking about?” Gavan asked.

Faye blinked and looked over. He was watching her with a small smile on his face.

“Oh? Nothing, just… well, it sounds bad after everything that’s happened… but I just realised that I’m happy for once.”

The mage nodded. “Good.”

Faye lifted an eyebrow. “Good?”

“Yes! Of course, what did you think I would be mad that you were smiling as we walked?” He laughed. “I don’t know who or what you take me for, Faye, but I would like to consider you a friend. Friends care when the others are not happy.”

“Well, yes, we’re friends!” she retorted. “Don’t make it seem like I was thinking otherwise.”

Gavan just smirked and she realised he had been goading her. She swatted at him with a hand.

“And,” he added, “you can’t let yourself be gloomy just because there are bad things happening. If you do, there will never be a happy day left in your lifetime.”

“That sounds like the kind of thing you would get in a fortune cookie.”

“A fortune what?”

“Umm, fried… I’m not sure actually. Little parcels of sweet, crunchy fried dough that have pieces of paper inside with a saying, or a fortune on them. You know, like ‘the early bird gets the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese’, or ‘don’t worry about money, the best things in life are free’?”

Gavan walked a few more paces before he spoke. “I think I understand the first one. It’s saying that being first means you get what you want… but it is also suggesting that the one who comes after also gets what they want? It seems to be trying to please everyone.”

Faye laughed. “It’s one of those sayings that applies to everyone and no one, all at once. The cookies are vague enough that you can apply it to any situation if you try hard enough.”

“But, the second saying,” Gavan said, frowning. “I don’t understand at all. ‘The best things in life are free’? I don’t believe that for a second.”

Faye looked at Gavan. “Oh?”

“Yes! There is this bakery in the city that makes perfect sweet buns, glazed with a fruit jam that makes my mouth water every time I think of it!”

She burst out laughing. “I see, you’re a materialistic man at heart, then. I shall have to remember that when it comes to buying you gifts.”

“We’re heading straight to the bakery; you can buy me a bun.”

“Don’t we have a mission to fulfil, first?” she asked, innocently.

“Yes,” Gavan responded, immediately. “But then, bakery.”

Only half an hour later, there was a shout from their right. It was faint but recognisable.

“Hello there!”

They stopped and looked south and hidden by a sudden dip in the land was a precariously tilted caravan, its wooden eaves so slanted, it was a wonder the contraption had not already fallen.

Gavan lifted a hand to show they had heard the call. They waited, but a moment later, the man waved his arm in a ‘come here’ gesture.

“Can you help?” came his call.

Faye looked at Gavan, and then at the small rivulets they would need to cross to reach the caravan.

“What were you saying about walking off the road?” she asked.

“Not to do it… unless you must.” He sighed. “Come on, we can’t turn him down, now.”

They grumbled as they stepped off the road and onto the spongy grass. It was not quite as sodden as it looked, but there were a few portions where the topsoil had mutated into mud, and they slid forward a few inches as they put their weight down.

By the grace of her attributes, Faye managed to get to the man who had called out without falling, but Gavan had not been so lucky. His right palm was covered in mud, and his knees were soddened.

The man grimaced as he saw him, “Och, I’m sorry friend, I did not wish for you to slip.”

Gavan did not say anything but shrugged.

“We see you need help,” Faye offered. “Why are you so far from the road?”

He looked back at the caravan and shook his head. “I’m on a tight schedule. I was ordered to carry on through the night to make the delivery. Turns out that driving your animals to fast for a windy road is a recipe for disaster. They took me off the road and before I could get them to stop, we were here.”

Behind the caravan were deep ruts in the soft soil that led toward the nearest part of the road. She walked around the caravan itself, inspecting it and where it had ended up. Near the back of the caravan, near the ruts in the ground, an awful stench rose.

“Ugh!” she exclaimed, holding her hand over her nose and mouth.

It seemed that the bugs Gavan mentioned were more than smelly, they stank like manure and rotten flesh all in one. Gagging, she moved past the ruts and around to the other side of the caravan.

Things seemed worse on this side; the wheels were half buried in the mud. Each step she took sunk down a few inches. She shook her head. This was not something that would be simple to solve.

Just then, she heard a whinny. She looked up in surprise. On top of the nearest rise, two horses looked down at Faye. They were big, brutish looking animals. Their hair was long and fell around their massive hooves, and their manes, though groomed, were long and gave an air of wildness.

“Oh, wow, you’re gorgeous.”

The horses nickered, and Faye grinned. Taking the driest route she could to the mound, she carefully made her way forward.

“Hello there,” she said, in that sing-song voice she knew that most animals preferred. “I’m Faye. You are such a big horse. Wow. I don’t think I’ve seen anyone as big as you before.”

She reached out a hand and paused, but the horse lowered its massive head and put its muzzle to her palm. With a grin, she rubbed her hand up and down the forehead of the horse.

The second one approached and pushed its way into Faye’s hand, so she reached up with her other to stroke them both.

“Hello there, you’re beautiful.”

“They must like you.”

Faye looked over her shoulder to see the caravan owner walking forward. He was smiling.

“They’re amazing. I haven’t seen horses like this before.”

“I’m not surprised! These are the finest of stock from the Jelgy Stables. Cost our company a fortune. But they more than make up for that in speed, endurance, strength. Finest animals I’ve the pleasure to work with.”

The beasts towered over Faye; she would never get on top of one without a ladder. She wondered if anyone actually rode these horses, or if they were exclusively draft animals.

“I’m surprised they pulled you off road, then,” she said. Immediately, she knew she had said something to disturb the man, because he looked at her with a peculiar expression. She waited to see his response.

“They don’t normally, no…” he said, trailing off. “Well, anyway, I was hoping we could…”

And he moved back over to Gavan, who was examining the ground.

Faye looked back at the horses and arched an eyebrow. “What did he do to you, eh?” she crooned as she scratched them between their eyes. The horse on her left snorted and blew warm air into her face, which tickled. “Alright, let’s see what we are working with, ‘ey?”