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Katrina had generally kept quiet on the journey. She gave out directions and ensured they stayed on course during the ride to Moonhorn Ridge, but she didn't offer much more in the way of conversation. Occasionally, Katrina would pull out a map from a satchel under her cloak, to make sure they were going the right way. Beyond that, Katrina didn't partake in any conversations. None of the physically irritating prayers that Osric muttered or the jabs of Revna. The red haired kid was quiet enough at least. To the others, it felt strange to be in this dead and barren place, but Katrina found the Seven Villages stuffy. There was magic behind the barrier, but out here, there was just death and the dying. These were things Katrina had been long accustomed to- She was there when the apocalypse [i]began,[/i] in a time when neither Osric nor Sage had been born yet, she was already 16. This was second nature to her in a way it couldn't have been for them, in her mind.

Katrina had been to the place before. It was the last stop on her trip to the villages, and she camped here for an entire week, living off of dead rabbits she smoked in the hills a few miles east of the Ridge. Eventually the group started to get antsy. The sun would set shortly and this was the ideal spot to start making camp. Unsurprisingly, Revna had misgivings.

[color=red]"Yes, we're near. And no, you're not the guide, Revna. Don't get your halberd in a twist..."[/color] Katrina pulled her paper map out and looked at some distant rocks. One of them had a sort of crescent shape that jutted up out of the dirt. The path they were taking led down a hill around the rock. [color=red]"Just down there, I slept there for a week once."[/color] Katrina led them down the hill and to a left turn. When they stopped, the group was at a small clearing nestled between a few rock cliff. There were old remnants of a campfire here. The rocks provided cover from rain and the warm sun as they sloped over. It was like a shallow cave. Over in the corner of the rocks was a makeshift wooden rack, and hanging on it were clumps of rotting fur and long-dried blood. Someone camped here once, presumably Katrina.

She jumped off and led the horses over.

[color=red]"Closest thing to indoors we've got out here. Plenty of room to move things off the cart should it need. Before I reached the villages, this is the spot I holed up in. We're good here for a night."[/color] It was bleak, the air felt dry, and there were a lot of seemingly meaningless, peeling bloodstains on some trees if anyone was particularly perceptive, but it was goof enough.