The war cry fell mightily upon the fallen pine needles, whispering among the trees. There was very little movement from the scene ahead of the party, a stray bird flying between the branches and a finger of wind flipping the occasionally scrap of loose moss.

The drivers eyebrow was raised as he held the cart still, pulling his reigns against the horses driving legs, cutting the momentum short as the hill came close. Frowning he explained that either he can ride you the rest of the way, or he will turn around now and leave you to reach the outpost alone, without guidance from there onward.