Camilla pulled her cloak tightly around her body. The wind whipped down of the eastern hills cold and slightly sour with some unidentifiable scent. Since meeting Cydric she had spent her fair share of time out in inclement weather but in her heart she never really grew used to it. From her point of view it would be much better to be passing the worst of the winter storms in the south, perhaps in Brettonia or among the Border Princes. Worst case in the taverns of Altdorf of Nuln, although that would have taxed their dwindling coin to the breaking point.

"C'era una volta un becchino che aveva una brutta moglie," she said to Cydric in her flowing Tilean. The Ostlander nodded thoughtfully at the words and responded in a mix of Tilean words and appropriately sounding nonsense sylables. Cydric knew some Tilean but could say little beyond conversational basics. Camilla giggled as though he had told a joke. The game was designed to make the Justicar, who did not speak Tilean, uncomfortable and judging by the restrained glare it was working.

Camilla was about to open her mouth and recite some poetry when she caught sight of something on the distant ridgeline.

"Cydric," she breathed and pointed at what she had at first taken for a misshapen tree. Silouteed black against the gathering darkness was a figure on horseback. At this distance it looked human, although Camilla wasn't willing to bet money on that. The figure seemed to know it had been spotted for it turned and vanished behind the distant rise. For a fleeting moment Camilla thought she caught he sound of laughter on the wind.

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