Andrew had sat in the back of the wagon as the group left the village behind. The pull through the veil put Andrew on edge. That magic was a part of him and it pulled at his soul.

The change came quickly. The sun seemed less welcoming. The wind was constant in its howling. The world changed before his eyes. There in the back he fingered the prayer book. It spoke of hope and love, things that seemed to be in shorter and shorter supply. Fear crept into his heart and he started to panic. Was he in over his head? Could he even help the group? Doubt filled his mind like a poison. Hearing Osric's song gave him hope. "It will be find, everything will be fine, we will set things right," he whispered to himself. Those at the monastery sang to fight off the forces of darkness. Even the laments retained the power of hope, because someone was there to sing them. Even Andrew’s soul sang when he chanted the protective magic of veils. Those were the prayers moved in his heart and mind even while he struggled with the routine liturgical prayers. 

Throwing a prayer skyward asking the Holy Mother for aid, Andrew made a sign of reverence. Reassured Andrew sat up a little and started to take in the surrounding land. It was not just lifeless but it felt foreboding. He did not have the words for what he felt or saw, but deep inside he knew that this was a dangerous place. Eventually, the group came to rest. Night would be on them soon. He dismouted the wagon and hurried to gather sticks and branches. Placing them next to the fire ring. He was unsure what to do next. Going to the back he took out a small cookpot. Filling it with water from a skin, he placed it next to the soon to be fire. Opening another bag her grabbed a bag of rice, dried beef, onion, carrot and potato. These he diced up with a small knife. Once the fire was up, he placed the pot on the flames. Looking to the group, "I can make a nice stew if anyone is interested." he said. It felt good to help. Taking out five wooden bowls and spoons, he placed them next to the cooking pot. Andrew looked out, the sun was setting fast and shadows seemed to creep forward with each passing minute. Scanning, he saw nothing moving. Though for some reason he felt as if they were being watched. Shaking his head, he turned back to the fire.

The young Novice sat stirring the stew waiting till all was tender. The aroma from the pot was smelled wonderful after the days ride. Seeing that the potatoes had softened, he removed the pot from the fire. Taking a ladle, he filled each bowl with a hearty serving. Still no one had moved to take any food. Everyone seemed lost in their own thoughts. Calling out "Stew is ready when you want it," Andrew placed the pot aside and pulled up a spot near the fire. Spooning a bite to his lips, the warmth spread through him. It tasted as good as it smelled. The vegetables had a slight crunch and the beef was full of flavor. Chewing slowly, the young man closed his eyes. Visions of the day played in his mind. So much was new and unknown to him. Fear continued to creep into the edges of his thoughts. The land's starkness was an outer sign of an inner sickness. Healers say that wounds need to be cleaned before being bandaged. Perhaps their journey was the cleansing of the world's wounds. Once finished, new life would spring forth. Inside the Barrier, the Mother's song was strong. Outside he heard only the faint whispers. Opening his eyes, he stared into the fire. Though flames danced, there was no warmth. Rubbing his hands together, he pulled his cloak tighter. A shudder ran through him as the feeling of being watched returned. Looking around the camp, no one else seemed to notice. Saying a quick prayer, he grabbed his bowl and slowly ate the stew. His eyes darted around the camp, looking for any sign of danger.