"Oh no," He said with wide eyes when he saw the explosion had inadvertently caused a rumble up the hill, and not only were debris falling around them, but the snow had been displaced. Slowly, it tranformed from hail to an avalanche. As it approached, Jocasta finally noticed, her mouth making an 'O'. Beren had seen one once at Thundrim Kadrin, but from far off and out of its path. This one was much like the other. It was hundreds of tons of snow, wood, leaves, and now masonry and other debris. 

"Maybe I spoke a bit too soon," She admitted guiltily. 

Beren scooped her up in his arms, causing her to suck in her breathe by the sudden feeling of iron-corded arms holding to a broad chest, the adrenaline of the situation adding to it. He started to run away toward the tree line, though there were only a few copses of pine and coniferous trees here or there. Beren was a fast runner and he moved like a dwarven steam train, but he wasn't fast enough. Jocasta watched the avalanche from over his shoulder with wide eyes as it caught up to them, at the crest of the 'wave' was a log spearing at them. She closed her eyes, and suddenly felt weightless. She had thought she was dead, but soon she found gravity again, and the intense rumbling was all around them. 

Jocasta opened her eyes to see Beren precariously atop the log, surfing the snow. Well, surfing implied finesse. It was impressive he had leaped atop it, and it was clear he had a lot of acrobatic training. But he swayed this way and that and didn't seem all too convinced they would stay up, though his dark eyes were steeled. 

"Are you sure this will work!?" She asked him above the din 

"No," he said. 

They passed over some crags and brush, demolishing the landscape in their path. Beren re-positioned his front foot, but it nearly cost them their perch on the bucking log. For a moment they seemed ok, racing past a copse of trees and a bend in the earth, but soon they saw they were in a path that fed directly towards a large oak. Beren tried to manuever his weight, but it wasn't working. Jocasta screamed and Beren's heart thundered in his chest. 

"Hold on to me!" He told her, and she did so instinctively as Beren leaped from the log moments before it smashed into the tree and broke in half, the man making a desperate reach for a lower branch. In the second it took for him to sail through the air, time seemed to stop. But all at once reality came crashing back, and he caught the branch in his hands. 

The very land itself flowed under them like a river, and they hung there for the next ten minutes until the Marches slowed and were spent, almost as if it were bored with the avalanche itself. 

"Wow." She said. Her arms around his neck, she was very close to him. He hadn't noticed, but to keep herself clinging she had wrapped her legs around him, their chests pressed together. Beren's face, once stern with purpose, was now reddened at the close proximity. She smiled brightly. "This is a good date." 

"We should probably get to town," he said, his usually deep voice cracking. 
[hr] 

[i]The next day...[/i] 

They were cold and slightly tired, but they were alive. They were even clean, one of the rivers that flowed out of the mountain was naturally heated, likely from some hidden reservoir of magma beneath. There was an abundance of fish in it, and they caught some, drank the water, and one bathed while the other stood watch. They stayed there that night and continued forward to Helmguart the next day. 

The township was guarded by a stout wall of stone, just ten feet high but wide enough for two men to comfortably walk abreast. The gates were open, but crossbowmen in kettle-helms stood above it and along the walls, obviously vigilant from the sounds of battle the other day just a few days travel from there. It was hard to see the wall from the trees, as the wood was thick about it. But they had found the trail again, and made it mid-afternoon that day. 

The guards looked strange. Some of them wore brigandines or chainmail, but most of them you couldn't tell their armor, as they wore black tabards and cloaks with the symbol of the lion. Beren didn't recognize the sigil, but Jocasta likely would. They were the Mortus Leo; The Dead Lions. A mercenary group made famous for its wars in the Seven Cities along the Blood Coast. What they were doing here was a mystery, but it likely had something to do with their latest military disaster near the pirate haven of Balcet, where the Basilean army had overrun their position. It was one of the many rumors that had passed through Andred before the winter had pummeled the nation into submission. 

The buildings were made of sturdy timber and mountain stone, most of the roofs had wooden frames and made thatched, though a few had slate tiles. Laborers, errands-men, mercers, fuellers, smiths, bakers, and the general citizenry walked about as if nothing was off, though most gave the roving bands of Black Lions a wide berth, and there were at least two of the mercenaries at nearly every corner of the roads. Every mercenary bore a wing-tipped spear or a crossbow, though all of them had a schiavona sword sheathed at their hips. While Beren didn't know of them, he knew there couldn't be many even if he saw them in most direction, as the town wasn't very big by most northerners. If Beren had remembered from his conversation with the merchant Bonraffen, there wasn't more than four thousand citizens here. A rough mining and logging town, kept alive by merchants traveling from Torm's Gate to Iskura. 

After passing down one street, a guard stopped them. Not one of the Lions, or at least he didn't wear their crest. He had a thick goatee and sported a messer at his hip, but he had on a sigil at his sleeve that looked like a bascinet helmet. 

"I saw you enter the gate. Might I ask your names and your business?" He inquired brusquely, as a watchmen or sentry might do. Beren and Jocasta glanced at one another, both looking a bit weary at being stopped before they could walk into a warm inn, but they shrugged as they also had nothing to hide. 

"I'm Beren, this is Jocasta. We're chance travelers. We were apart of a caravan coming from the Dragonback, but we were attacked by Orcs and... and the dead. And more things I dare not name except in private. We were the only survivors that we know of, but now-" 

The guard made a baffled noise and held up a hand. "You were in a caravan meant for here?" 

"Yes, to pass through to Iskura." 

The guard turned and bade them wait, before he jogged off to the next street for a brief minute. Jocasta hugged herself and groaned, simmering with annoyance that the guard couldn't talk to them somewhere warm. There was no snow about them, but the temperature was still easily below freezing. Beren felt her pain and nodded. He was usually fun or stoic, switching between the two when needed. But he was just about ready to complain as well. Soon the watchman came back with a companion, similarly dressed. 

"Thank you for waiting," the first man said apologetically.

"How long had you been on the road?" The second one asked.   

"Almost two weeks. But we're really tired, sir." Beren said. 

"And how did you two surv-"

"Can you boys point us to the nearest inn?" Jo pipped up before further questions were tossed at them. The two guards regarded her question, and then looked at one another. The second one nodded, and the first took his hat off in apology. 

"Aye, yes. The Crimson Wyvern is just north of here, two streets away. Tell Bonnie that Melve sent you. But before you go, I will let you know tomorrow the master of Helmguart might call on you. I advise you to not tell any black-clad man who you are or where you come from, for your own safety as well as that of the town." 

"Ok," Beren said, not wanting to be rude but not really understanding the situation. They were both dismissed and allowed to go, and when they exited the guard's company, Jocasta smiled at Beren and held up an ancient coin with a wink. "How many rounds do you think this will get me?" 

"I've got money," he assured her with a laugh, knowing she was also joking. "I'm just getting water myself anyway. I'm more hungry than anything."