”Lunch?” Taraborn queried.
The caravan had stopped next to an old signpost by the road. The land sloped downwards towards south to their left and soon turned into a dark, impenetrable wall of trees – the Old Forest. Hellrien wasn’t overly concerned that anything would attack the caravan from that direction. On the other side of the road the land sloped gently upwards towards Brandy Hills, and that direction was far more dangerous. Hellrien squinted. Did she see pickets up there in the north? It was noon, and cold wind reeled dust clouds along the road.
”Lunchtime, yeah. What do you think of those picket fences over there yonder?”
”I'd avoid 'em, keep the caravan quiet and try and keep clear.”
”Let's go sit behind those trees over there, see if I can get any better look at them. Orcs, you reckon?”
Cautiously they climbed up the slope, peering through the trees to get a better view of the picket fences looming in the horizon. Responsibility was weighing heavily on Hellrien. This was another good place for a possible ambush.
”Nah”, Tara said. ”I'd say brigands. Don't really get many orcs this area.”
”Yeah, you're probably right. Let's sit here to eat our lunch. Facing the pickets, so we see if someone is about.”
Hellrien sat down and took her hat off. Tara settled beside her but left his helmet on, not wanting to risk having it off should brigands attack. They shoved their hand into their traveling bags, pulled out their provisions and started eating.
”So, ye fought orcs before?” Tara asked.
”Aye, a little. In Fornost. Ever been there?”
Taraborn thought about it for a moment. ”Tha's up north o' Trestlebridge, aye? I don't think I have.”
”See this?” Hellrien pulled her hair back to reveal her injured, deformed ear. ”An orc gave me this.”
Taraborn raised an eyebrow. ”Looks nasty. Yer lucky it weren't poisoned.”
”Nah, the orc grabbed my head in a chokehold and started squeezing. I was lucky not to get my neck snapped! It was a fat one too, a huge bastard!”
”Worst one I wen' up against looked half troll. Almost head an shoulders above me. Thick as hell, though."
”Yeah, this one looked a bit like that. The boys in Fornost camp pulled me a prank, seeing that I was a little too eager for a fight there.” Hellrien chuckled as she remembered the crazy Widdup brothers and their antics. She wondered where they were now. Six feet under, most likely.
”A prank that involves getting ya in a fight with an orc seems more like tryna kill ye than havin' a laugh”, Taraborn commented dryly, raising an eyebrow.
”The Widdups were beyond crazy. They had a bit of a death wish themselves. Never met anyone quite like them before or after.”
”We’re leaving!” shouted somebody from the road. Hellrien clambered up to her feet and patted her trousers with her hat before putting it back on.
”Alright, the break’s over.”
Taraborn nodded and stood up, watching the camp ahead for a moment before following Hellrien. Nothing was moving up there, but the picket fence against the horizon remained ominous proof of some kind of settlement.
How much longer to Stock? Hellrien looked at the sun. A little over five hours. Bright sunlight hit her face, revealing her bloodshot eyes and dark circles underneath them.
Five more hours. If… there would be no attack.
”Tonight we’ll sleep in a real bed, Valar willing”, she said.
”Just one bed?” Tara wondered.
