Cerriel

Dunland was always a place of malice. Before, it was saving members of the Network from the wicked Hillman called Pren. Now, it was convincing three hungry Hillmen that she was not interested in coming with. Weapons were drawn as they argued in different tongues, pointing and hand signals.

Then, the former sailor realized that they were after Goat, not her.

Weeks went by as they went through the Trollshaws. There were less attacked by deer and more successful hunts. It was also a mundane period of travel as she had gone on this path a few times now. At times, Goat did the navigation as Cerriel would lean on his head and hum.

The next morning after Goat soaked her supplies, Cerriel had to replace them. She wandered the woods of the Trollshaws as she searched for berries, hares or anything worth to eat. Most trips, she had enough supplies to make for the entire time but now, she really needed something. As Goat grazed, the former sailor went out.

Luckily for her, she did not need to trap anything like a badger. The last time was a disaster and she could not afford to get hurt. As she went deeper into the forest, it became darker and harder to see what she could try to track.

The next few days of traveling in the Lone-Lands were uneventful. Cerriel never did like traveling through them as she felt like she was always being watched from something.

Goat on the other hand, enjoyed eating whatever he could find and often went off the road to eat it. The expected few days turned into something longer every time he became side tracked.

“Honestly Goat, one of these days your stomach is going to get us lost or worst.” The woman said, sighing as they stopped at a small bush of berries.

The inn was full of patrons, yet felt empty. She sat alone in the corner watching the other patrons enjoy their drinks and food. Not one face looked familiar. That was when she knew; Cerriel had to leave Bree. She left for her room for the night, sleeping on the idea.