He'd called him fiery as a joke but Adrian was rapidly living up to the accolade. Johnathon fell in without protest behind the column of travelers. The march pace set by Adrian was a little bit faster than his usual walk, as if the running through down and the hiking through the forest hadn't worn him enough. A fast pace, however, would keep them warm and he found himself playing along trying to march in time with Adrian. It kept him from starting a ramble about the locale, too, which his traveling partners might not have had an ear for. As the group marched on, the scenery changed slowly around them. The pines began to thin away as they climbed, giving way to larger and larger clearings of snow and rocks. The winds picked up from a gentle whispering among the evergreen boughs to a shrill cry that tore against the exposed sides of the mountain. Steadily, the incline steepened, though they had hardly even begun their climb. Far ahead, a few distinct paths among the rocks stood out, leading far up and up into the summits of the ring of mountains surrounding Aldrun. It seemed to John that at least they would have a choice on their path. All of them had clearly been worn down long ago by travelers like themselves, but a few were marred by fresh footprints. Of course they weren't the first to come here, more ambitious or at least motivated groups had set out into the mountains to do as they pleased at the first sign of a possible war.