"Well it couldn't happen to a nicer group," Emmaline muttered as they swung up into the saddles of the two most promising horses. Emmaline drew a sword from a saddle slung scabbard and slapped the rumps of the other mounts, sending them running back towards Delbertz. If any of Vandershute's men did survive, there was no point in making it easy to pursue them. Not, by the sound of the roaring troll, that survival seemed a likely outcome. Without further discussion they drove their heels into their already skittish mounts racing down the forest path away from the trolls and their grisly feast.

The sun was well sinking toward the horizon by the time the reached the town of Mittleweg. Located at a crossroad of the Middenheim road and the northern arm of the River Delb it was a prosperous looking place. With tall steeply pitched roofs and pallisade walls. Several river barges were pulled up at warves where goods were being loaded and unloaded by sweating stevedores. A broad belt of farmland surrounded the city proper keeping the towering Drakwald at bay. A temple to Ulric stood upon the small hill at the center of town, the wolfhead banners snapping in the autumn breeze. They had ridden their horses hard and the beasts were almost played out as they passed through the city gates. Emmaline's legs and bottom ached from the unaccustomed activity. For the hundredth time she swore she was going to sit down and have a long conversation with a certain carpet about its limited endurance. It was possible that Vandershute's thugs might pursue them, but by the time they found horses it would be dark and only a complete idiot would ride the Drakwald by night. Even if they did they would arrive to closed gates and have to search the city for the pair of them. A thankless task in the dead of night.

"I promise I shall keep my mouth shut about beastmen this time," Emmaline said as the trotted through the streets. At least this time she was properly dressed and not attracting undue attention.