The snow fell all night, leaving a clear trail of footprints behind them as they hurried on. Because their pursuers would be able to follow them easily their best hope was speed. The spell that weakened him had worn off a while ago, so Zeff now carried both his and Dessa’s packs as her endurance waned after hours of stumbling through the night.
The storm continued, blowing snow and obscuring vision. Zeff tried to listen but it wasn’t much use. Pursuit could be mere yards behind them and they wouldn’t see or hear them coming. It provided them some protection as well but it still made him tense and anxious. The sooner they reached their destination the better.
Dessa said the place was an abandoned village called Boulderham. Apparently some dim witted nobleman thought it’d be a good idea to settle out here where land was free for the taking. Strong backs and stronger sword arms soon carved a little community from the Wilds and hopeful humans tried to start new lives. But supplies were hard to get and hobgoblins were just one of many constant threats, so the village was abandoned after just a few seasons. That was a generation ago.
Now, in the pre-dawn light, the ruined buildings of Boulderham appeared as silhouettes on a snowy-grey canvas.
***
The fire burned down to a warm bed of embers while everyone dozed. Tillock snored soundly, huddled under all of the hobgoblin clothes that were usable. It wasn’t as bad as it sounded. The raiders had taken clothes from their victims on the Hood farm, so aside from acquiring a hobgoblin’s smell they were still somewhat serviceable.
Gemma the Lumberjack was much louder. She’d been up long into the night, dreading the coming day. But when she finally rested she slept hard. She was currently curled up on the floor by the fire with her cheek resting on her shoulder and her arm flung out straight past her head, sawing wood while a thin line of drool issued from her open mouth.
Durn wasn’t sure who’s snoring woke him, but neither of them would have held a torch to his brother, Grald. By Torag, that dwarf could collapse a mine shaft with his rumblings. But what he wouldn’t give to have his brother here. There was more trouble going on out here than he could have anticipated, and Grald’s axe would have been a comforting presence.
“Hello?” called a feminine sounding voice from outside. Durn sprang to his feet, kicking his blanket off his legs as he did so. He shook Gemma’s leg as he quietly crept to a shuttered window to peek out. From the small gap in the shutters he saw what appeared to be two hunters. One was a human woman and the other was the biggest half orc he’d ever seen. He might even have ogre in his blood judging by his size.
Gemma came up behind him with her blanket around her shoulders and whispered “What’s going on?” “Visitors.” he whispered back. Durn called out “Who are you and what do you want?”
“I am Dessa Chen of Basilisk Bluff, and this is my friend and companion, Zeff. We are seeking shelter but didn’t expect to find anyone here. Can we come in? We need help.” Durn and Gemma both started at that name. Durn peaked out again, with Gemma trying to get a look over his head. They were both acquainted with her, and they both recognized her despite her unusual outfit. Gemma whispered “I recognize the half orc, too. He’s a farmer near the Bluff.”
Durn didn’t recognize him at all. He looked at Gemma questioningly, and she answered with a shrug and a nod. “Ok, come in, but keep your hands away from your weapons.”
Dessa and Zeff approached with their hands up in gestures of peace. Durn let them in and quickly shut the door behind them. They looked cold and exhausted, and thankful to be indoors. Over the next several minutes they shared their story. It didn’t take long to realize danger was close by, and Durn began peering out of windows as he listened. After leaning against a wall for a few minutes Zeff put down their packs and did the same.
Dessa went to sit by the fire and Gemma put their remaining wood on the embers. Tillock sat in the corner, covered in his cloak and wide-eyed with fear.
And so the situation remained. The snow began to lessen while Zeff and Durn kept watch. Dessa actually fell asleep in spite of the danger, succumbing to her fatigue. An hour passed with no sign of trouble, so Gemma studied her spell book. Tillock relieved Zeff on watch, who promptly threw himself on the ground and slept.
Another hour passed. Gemma kept a lookout while Durn ventured out to find fuel for the fire, returning with snow covered branches and old furniture from the other buildings.
Another hour passed, and the silence outside continued. Then another, and another. Could the elves have given up their pursuit? When Zeff awoke he and Durn went out in search of more wood, returning with fencing and a table. It wasn’t the best fuel but it was better than nothing.
The entire day passed in anxious boredom. Dessa woke up feeling surprisingly refreshed and said prayers to Erastil. Tillock sat by the poor excuse for a fire, clutching a spare knife to his chest that Durn lent him. Zeff looked outside, fingering his axe. Durn took inventory of their belongings and then relaxed, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. As dusk settled over a silent landscape Gemma wondered how, or if, she’d be able to get what she came here for.
Zeff growled a low warning. He could just barely make out figures standing in the distance, obscured by the coming darkness.