[center][color=FFCE00][h2][u]The Snakeburrow Woods[/u][/h2][/color][/center]

[center][sub]16th of the Full Autumn Moon, 1698 P.A.
Midday - Overcast skies[/sub][/center]

Despite the hour, the light struggled to break through both cloud and flora as the overcast skies grew steadily darker. A distant rumble of thunder suggested the heavens would finally break later in the day, reinforced by the chilly, heavy gusts that whipped through the woods. The night had passed blessedly uneventful, for most, and Cerric had been up bright and early, all smiles and laughter. Despite that, his smiles came slower, his gestures more muted, and the beginning of bags under his eyes.   

Now on the road again, the day had so far been uneventful. No frightened boar, nor other travelers to contend with, just the sound of Cerric’s near constant babbling, the creak of wagon wheels, and the muffled footsteps of the horse. 

Until the horse stopped abruptly, ears flat back and whining loudly. Its eyes were blown wide as its nostrils flared and it trembled, refusing to move forward. [color=mediumspringgreen]“Whoa, what’s gotten into you?”[/color] Esveele tried to hop down once she’d gotten her footing back, but Cerric’s hand on her arm stopped her. [color=mediumspringgreen]“What in the seven hells is going on?”[/color] She demanded as she glanced around. 

She got her answer a moment later when a wolf limped into the middle of the path, sent something that was more whine than growl at the assembled party, before collapsing with a whimper. The horse pawed at the ground. [color=skyblue]“Well, that doesn’t look too fantastic, team!”[/color] Cerric chirped brightly, obnoxiously upbeat as he peered at the strange series of events, one hand already drifting down to play with the stopper of his waterskin. [color=skyblue]“Let’s see how our mercs-in-training handle such an unexpected turn of events!”[/color]