Wanting to give his horse a chance to rest and have a bite to eat. He pulled his bedroll from the pack hanging on his saddle and spread it out next to a large silver leaf that had been blown over in a storm.
As nighttime finally settled on the Crystal River, Rone built his fire and retrieved his evening meal from his pack. He shared his jerky and a small cheese wedge with Fang before settling in to get some sleep.
Sometime during the night, he was awakened by Fang nudging his hand. As he opened his eyes, he could see the stars and moonlight shining above him in the night sky.
Knowing the great wolf would only wake him If he felt threatened, Rone, sat up and let his eyes shift into Darkvision. A convenient trait for a Fae, or a half-blood that was lucky enough to inherit it. As it allowed them to see in low light, and in some cases, even no light.
Once his eyes adjusted, Rone scanned the bank and forest around him. That’s when a growl from fang told him the direction the threat was coming from.
Turning toward the river, he spotted it. About halfway across the river was the light from a lantern bobbing on the water. He realized it was the ferry barge. Sometime during his sleep, someone had pulled it to the far side and was now crossing the river under cover of night.
Retrieving his swords and strapping them to his back, he grabbed his bow. Then quickly moved from beside his dying fire to hide in the thick brush of cattails that grew just on the water's edge.
He didn’t know who would be chancing the river at this time of night but figured it might be best to stay out of sight. At least until he had discovered if they were friend or foe.
With a nod of his head towards Fang, the big wolf slipped off into some thick brush, where he lay down and hid behind a thick log. He and Fang had done this many times over the years during scouting missions. Or when the Thorn Callers had been called upon to assess possible threats to some of the villages they protected.
As he kneeled there in the dark, he could see the lanterns light moving closer to the shore. Followed by the grating metal of the barge wheel that was used to pull the ferry across the river.
As it neared the bank, Rone could hear voices being carried to him on the night's breeze.
It was apparent to Rone there were two men on the ferry, and both seemed unhappy with being there. One was complaining rather loudly about having to travel at night, while the other complained about the first guy's complaints.
As the ferry came to a creaking thud at the edge of the bank, the two men dropped from its deck into the shallows with a loud splash.
When they arrived on the bank, both men stopped and looked curiously at the still smoldering coals of Rone’s campfire. “Looks like we just missed them shanty,” said the smaller of the two men.
“Aye, crying shame too, I’d like to have some food if they had any to share.” Came the reply from the larger man.
“Maybe they’ll come back. It looks like their horse is still here.” He said, pointing to where Rones mare was grazing on some fescue stems.
“Well, if they don’t, at least we won’t have to walk to Shirly Town. The smaller man said with a crooked grin.
Shirly town was a small village that lay in eastern Agnar. Its people were a hearty sort, mainly farmers, and trappers that preferred to be left alone. They rarely came to Briarthorn, and when they did, it was usually only to seek aid. Which most of the forest villages did when facing marauders or the occasional bandits.
Not wanting to risk losing his horse to these strangers, Rone decided he had better make himself known. Grabbing a few twigs from the ground, he stood up and came walking into camp like he had no idea it was now occupied. Upon seeing the two men, he feigned surprise, nearly dropping the wood he was carrying.
“Good evening, gentlemen,” He said with a smile, all the while watching the two men for signs of an attack or other nefarious actions.
“Oyi, it’s one of them half-bloods shanty,” The smaller man said with a startled look on his face. Rone ignored the man's remark, only because it was one the least offensive ways to address one such as himself.
“I can see that Scud, now be quiet.” The big man said with an embarrassing shake of his head.
“Forgive my friend stranger, we meant no disrespect.” The bigger man said as he bowed slightly,
“None took,” Rone replied as he placed a few of the small branches on the coals and stoked them into flames again.
“What brings you, fellows, out on such a night?” He asked carefully, studying the faces of the two men for signs of a lie.
“We’re headed to Shirly town, we heard tell there might be work for a decent plow smith there. I’m Shanty, and this here is my brother in law Scud. We are coming from Crag Moor in hopes of getting put on as the village smiths.” With Shanty’s words, the smaller man known as scud went to chuckling quietly.
“Was there no work in Crag Moor that would allow you to ply your trade? I thought the cities crop workers could always use a good plow smith?” Rone asked, watching to see how they reacted.
Rone glanced towards where Fang lay hidden in the tall grass. He knew the big wolf would wait for either Rone to call him, or the fighting to start. Another tactic they had learned over the years and one that had proved itself useful on more than one occasion.
“They could if Shanty would learn to leave the wives of guards alone,” Scud said with another chuckle.
“Hush Scud! I’m sure this fine fellow is not interested in my love life.” Rone smiled broadly, relaxing a little as he realized these men were no threat, just dumb. Laughing a little to himself, Rone offered to share his fire and a small meal with them.
“We thank you for your hospitality, good sir.” The big man said with more than a little enthusiasm.
“Tell me, did you pass through Black Marsh on your trip here?” Rone asked as he handed them each a piece of jerky and a chunk of his cheese wedge.
“We did, and damn lucky we made it,” Shanty said, shaking his finger to add emotion to his statement.
“Aye, damn lucky,” Scud added as he shoved nearly the entire chunk of cheese he was handed into his mouth.
“We nearly stumbled into a camp of Drakelings fumbling around in that cursed marsh,” Shanty said as he took a large bite of his food.
“Them scale backs would have spotted us for sure if it hadn’t been for Shanty here’s quick thinking. Scud added, slapping Shanty on the shoulder.
“Bah wasn’t nothing, just an old hunting trick my pa taught me.
“And what trick might that be?” Rone asked curiously.
“Well, I’m sure an excellent hunter such as yourself knows it already, but my Pa used to tell me when I was a boy. If you ever get chased by Drakelings, cover yourself from head to toe in the mud.
He always used to say they could see your body heat, so if you wrap yourself in wet clay, they can’t see you. I got to tell you, mister; I’ve never been so glad to remember one of my pa’s teachings in all my life.
“To bad, he didn’t teach you how to get the smell of swamp out of your clothes,” Scud said with a sniff of his tunic that caused his nose to wrinkle.
“A handy trick indeed,” Rone replied as he passed the men his wine bag to wash down their food.
“You said it, mister,” Shanty said, holding the wine bag up in a toast to his words.
“So, what brings you out on such a night stranger?” Scud asked, suddenly realizing Rone had yet to tell them why he was there. Or even what his name was.