“Well I suppose they shall have to write some stories about us,” Mave said. With Emond’s Field and Deven’s Ride behind them the road had faded away to almost nothing. The map showed that it continued south into Gheldan but that was either a relic of an earlier time or merely wishful thinking. Where the Westwood had been a tranquil place, the Forest of Shadows had a dark unwholesome look. Great oaks towered into the darkening sky and vines strung between aged and decaying trunks made passage difficult.

“To that end…” Mave took a leather wrapped bundle from her saddle and handed it to Ali. He took it curiously and unwrapped it. Inside was a bow of sturdy yew almost five a half feet long along with a pair of coiled and waxed bow strings and two dozen long feathered arrows. It seemed to Mave to be ridiculously large compared to the short cavalry bows she had seen in Arad Doman but the fletcher had assured her that was what the locals used.

“I know its not a staff, but I saw some of the locals using them at Beltane and I thought you would probably know the basics,” she went on, curiously embarrassed and anxious at the gift.