Without another word, Turala was off. She set a pace that was much faster than the lumbering, stalking warband, and she didn't lie about the terrain. It was an effort not to slip on the ice and snow that had settled on the inclines they skirted, but the jutting rocks around them served to encourage careful foot placement lest they meet upon their falling heads.

For a long while, Turala concentrated on the path ahead and didn't speak. However, once they had reached a certain altitude and were moving along the slopes rather than climbing up them, she relaxed enough to glance back and apprehensively ask a question. "You and the Dunmer in your pack, you're...closer than just packmates, aren't you?" Turala's spoke as if it was an unfortunate turn of events.

Back with the warband, the march went on for another hour before anything of note happened. The party came across a small gorge that immediately stank of an ambush to everyone, let alone Oswall. The band began to slow down before either Oswall or Meesei ordered a halt. Thankfully, after searching for signs of life via magic and sending up scouts, the gorge turned out to be a false alarm. The band moved on having lost some ground, but it was better than being attacked.

Past the gorge, the path began to curve uphill, making pursuit more of an effort. Much of the warband had little trouble, as they lived in such environs, but those with legs unaccustomed to the mountains soon felt it.

"There's nothing up there 'cept cliffs and snow," Harriet said, using one of her javelins as a walking stick, "He's gonna change directions soon."