Of Truth and Beasts

Chane joined them, though he wasn’t panting. Ore-Locks took a little longer, huffing and puffing on his thick, shorter legs, iron staff in one hand and their chest heaved up on his shoulder.

“Get that animal a leash,” he coughed.

Shade wrinkled her jowls and whipped her tongue over her nose at him. But Chane was looking ahead, beyond all of them.

“Can you not smell it?” he said. “Shade did from farther off.”

Wynn straightened up, following his gaze.

Back from the shore, wagons of all shapes and sizes were stationed about large timber buildings with corner posts the size of the nearby palm trees. At least six campfires glowed in the dark, illuminating those milling about. Men and women loaded boxes or tended to horses tied off at rails. One elder woman led a team of mules into a nearby stable half as big as the other structures.

Wynn felt soft pressure against her leg, and looked down as Shade pressed closer.

—no ... Chane ... wagon ... stay ... Wynn ... people—

Shade’s broken words, spoken in Wynn’s own remembered voice, made the dog’s intentions quite clear.

“A caravan station,” Wynn whispered.

Shade huffed once.

Chane glanced down at Shade. He had already decided they should travel inland on their own. With Ore-Locks and Shade, they could camp by day and journey by night, just as he and Wynn had done on their way to Dhredze Seatt.

Wynn stroked Shade’s head, thoughtfully watching the caravan camp, and Chane knew she had changed their plans again. Or this time, Shade had.

“Let’s see if any are headed inland and barter for passage,” Wynn suggested.

“I will do so,” Ore-Locks said, about to stride off.

“Wait,” Chane cut in, stepping closer to Wynn. “We should just purchase a small wagon and go on our own. We can set our own pace.”

She looked up at him, some realization dawning. Clearly she understood what he had not said. There were complications in traveling with others, with no place for him to have secure privacy during the day.

“Are you sure?” she asked. “The caravan might be—”

Shade snarled loudly and clacked her jaws at Chane.

“Stop that,” Wynn scolded, and grabbed Shade’s muzzle.

Chane watched the two of them lock gazes in sudden stillness. Ore-Locks watched closely as well, though he did not ask what was happening. Suddenly, Wynn flinched.

“What?” Chane asked, wanting to pull her away from Shade.

“She ... she thinks,” Wynn began. “She insists her way is safer.”

“No,” Chane said, his attention shifting between her and Shade. “We are better off on our own. I can protect us.”

Shade snarled so loudly that Chane looked about, fearful the noise might gain unwanted attention. Wynn seemed troubled at being caught between them. With a slight shake of her head, she closed her eyes, still holding the dog. When she opened them again, she glanced uncomfortably at Ore-Locks before she stood up.

“Shade’s not going to agree to that,” Wynn said to Chane.

“Shade?” Ore-Locks repeated. “Since when is the animal making our decisions?”

Wynn looked only at Chane. “She’s worried about the Fay, that if I’m too isolated in the wilderness ... they will try to kill me again.”

“Fay?” Ore-Locks asked. “Kill you? What are you talking about?”

No one answered him.

Chane closed his eyes briefly. Shade was right, and it should have occurred to him before the dog forced the issue. It unsettled him just how much Shade seemed aware of and how far she might go for her own agenda concerning Wynn. But the dog had made her point, and Wynn had clearly agreed. They needed to travel in greater numbers.

Ore-Locks stood waiting for an explanation.

Chane stepped forward, waving the dwarf along. “Come. We will speak more later. For now, it is time to barter.” 

Following behind, Wynn was still shaken by Shade’s vehemence. The dog had once again shown her the same frightening images of the Fay trying to lash her to death with the roots of a downed tree. And Wynn had felt a more personal fear, a determination from Shade that she had not felt before.

Once Shade set her mind on something, shaking it from her jaws could be as difficult as with her father, Chap. In spite of Shade’s harsh methods for making her point, Wynn couldn’t disagree.

They soon reached the nearest team of mules being disconnected from a weathered wagon twice their height. There were some faded hints of its once garish paint. All around, people loaded or unloaded, hauling bundles in or out of the great timber buildings with shake roofs high above. Some tended animals, while others prepared communal meals over open fires. Low voices filled the air.

While a few bore the same coloring as the people of the city, others were paler or duskier. There were two Sumans, perhaps from desert tribes, though no Numans among the caravans, and certainly no dwarves. It appeared that race or culture did not matter here. Most wore thick leather clothing, tough enough for their long journeys, and either floppy hemp and reed hats or head wraps of rough cloth.