“If the indignity of having to ride a beast of burden wasn’t enough,” grumbled Tumbor from his seat behind Rohlen. “Then the fact I’m getting wetter up here than down there just compounds the situation.”
“Your pace was a drift of ours,” said Yulien respectfully.
“How are you getting wetter?” enquired Rohlen, turning in his saddle.
“Stands to reason,” grumbled the dwarf further. “Closer to the sky and shorter the distance for the cursed rain to fall.”
The party laughed at Tumbor’s reasoning and pressed on, ignoring his inquisition as to what was so humorous. At their current pace, and given how sodden the roads had become, the hamlet of Greshfell lay two days ride. Had they continued at the dwarf pace, they would have been lucky to have doubled that time.
“What is it that you hope we’ll learn in Greshfell?” asked Yulien, turning her attentions towards Jax.
“I’ve heard the hamlet has beleaguered with unexplained disappearances.”
“Just like Lingred?” snapped Fraevon, suddenly breaking his concentration on scouting the road ahead.
“That’s what we’ll find out in Greshfell.”
Yulien and Rohlen both looked at each other, exchanging a look that didn’t go unnoticed by both Jax and Fraevon.
“I just hope the food supplies haven’t dissappeared,” remarked Tumbor rubbing his rotund belly.
Once more the party laughed whilst ignoring the dwarf’s confused questioning.