Smoke curled lazily off the dwindling coals of their breakfast fire. 

Gritty flavors of wild mushrooms mixed with smoke from the scraggly brush that fed the fire. The spongy grey mushrooms had been a welcome surprise, if an unconventional meal. 

Thankfully the wild flavor had replaced the bitterness of the previous night. He could not understand where it had come from. It was not in him to complain or regret. The past is the past. Furrowing his brow, Canth nodded. Last night was a frenzy of emotions and an unexpected one snuck in. 

Against the drifting screen of smoke, the High Mountains were a tall crest of blue rising against the horizon.

"Hurry up," Castleia ordered across the fire from him. Canvas jostled and her horse whinnied as she packed the saddlebags. "Shh, come now, dear." Her hand rubbed the horse's side affectionately. 

"I will try, love. You too." 

The huntresses shot him a dark look. 

Tightening the last strap, Castleia leaped onto her horse's saddle. She anxiously wrapped the reins around her hands. "Honestly, Scribbler. Some eyes may see our fire's smoke through the shadow of the mountain. We'd best be off." 

"You're right." Canth finished wrapping the leftover mushrooms and tucked them into his bags. It took two tries to pull himself onto his horse, ushering the disapproving look of his companion. 

"Do they teach you nothing but writing in the tomb you call a library?" 

Canth grunted. "Do they teach you nothing but how to insult a man or split his skull in the Watch?" 

Castleia's horse darted past him without answer, but he thought he caught crooked smile

The horses' battering hooves kicked up a column of dust that followed at their backs. As they drew closer to the peaks, Canth made out bristling pines, sharp with the crisp northern air, rising from the uneven surface of the rocks. Caves dotted the grey face answering his gaze. Most appeared little more than pockmarks, but others disappeared in black holes created by the twisting spires of jagged stone. 

Squawking of a distant bird echoed across a deep divot in the otherwise seamless mountain range. A consistent breath blew from the high summits in frosty gales. The icy wind grew even more intense with their approach. It was not long before cold air had kissed their faces pink and their horses grew tired on the rising ground. Castleia called for a halt. 

"The mountains are alive," Canth gestured. "Tegonoragoth's breath is heavy." 

"I'm well aware," the girl answered without tearing her gaze from the sight. "What concerns me is what it is alive with." 

Canth pointed to the highest parts of the mountains. The jagged spine of the mountain range seemed to arch like a sleeping beast, elevating three summits far above the others. 

"The Half-men will be there. It is said their king sits at the lowest point of the highest peak." 

"So do we ride up or down?" 

"Through," he answered. His hand pointed to the dense coalescence of trees that seeped from the steps of the mountains. Wiry trees twisted from the sandy ground, melding together in a patchwork of green and brown. 

"Great," Castleia muttered. "Another forest." 

A forest this is not, Canth decided nearly immediately. There were leaves, branches, twig-like trees, and, yes, even a thin canopy of brush overhead, but it hardly compared to any forest he had seen before. Sandy soil tossed loosely from the fingery twists of root underneath their horses. Branches gave weakly, swaying like flags in the face of the unwavering wind that blew from the mountain. Afternoon light flooded the forest floor unlike any near Arcath. More a collection of overconfident bushes, he mused. 

"This is a sad place," Castleia muttered as if to read his thoughts. "And not in the morose sense as much as the disappointing sense." 

"True. Whoever these Half-men are, they have never seen a real forest if they call this a wood."

"Does it have a name?"

"Asgan," Canth answered. "Something like 'green rocks' in their tongue." 

"About as lively as rocks," the girl grumbled.

"There are worse things than stillness." 

Their road continued upward as the hills rippled under the network of roots that held the shrubs down. Land dove and rose in uneven waves, but every downward slope was accompanied by a higher hill that brought them closer to the mountains above. The horses' steps grew ragged and hot breath puffed in steamy clouds from their whiskered nostrils. 

They found disappointingly little progress. When Canth and Castleia finally agreed to rest and stake the horses, the blustering white caps of the mountain summits felt as far away as they had on the plain below. Looking back, the plain laid out like a dull brown-green blanket bristling with dry grass.

Fifteen miles at least, Canth mused. Of up and down. But only perhaps five as the crow flies, he admitted glumly.

Mushrooms from his knapsack served as supper, washed down with precious mouthfuls of lukewarm water from their waterskins. They had past brooks - mud streams more like - suitable for the horses to drink from, but there was no sign of a clean river ahead to replenish their supply. 

Castleia volunteered for the first watch which Canth would have nothing of until she threatened to use her ax on him. 

He ruefully let her take the watch. 

Curled in a blanket between two gnarled, spindly trees, sleep was a shy guest. It toyed with his eyes reluctantly for some time, always scared away by the sudden cooing of an owl or crunching twig as Castleia adjusted her position. 

With the night came the cold, though the wind quieted. Crisp air filled his nose in every breath. He finally welcomed rest with the dull cold in his chest and the rugged folds of a blanket hugging his shoulders. 

When Canth opened his eyes again it felt like only a breath had elapsed. Inside his chest the cold was dispelled by hot blood pumping frantically from his drumming heart. Shivers from some impending notion made his fingers tremble and he fought the urge to leap to his feet. 

He jumped when he felt a finger on his lips. 

"Shhhhh," Castleia hushed. 

A series of thoughts flashed through his mind, each making his heart pump fiercer than the last. 

Taking her hand from his lips, Castleia pointed toward where the horses were sleeping on the other side of their small camp. 

"Something's there." 

Canth slid his hand to his belt. Fingers searched for the comfort of his sword. His heart stuttered as he followed her finger toward the horses and saw both his sword and shield hanging from his horse's saddle. 

Moonlight! 

For a while they sat without moving. Resisting the voice that told him to retrieve his weapons, Canth could do nothing but sit in the folds of a blanket and watch with pent breath. 

Their patience was soon rewarded. 

An unseen beast grunted sharply behind the dark, nearly choking. A second answered in short, guttural tones that tumbled like a landslide from the invisible creature's lips. The first replied in kind.

Not grunts... Voices.  

A third voice broke the first two in a lower tone that sounded slightly different. The new voice's words were sharper but more defined, thicker but more purposeful. Despite being unintelligible, its authority was clear. 

Heavy footsteps followed, pattering against soft sandy soil. 

The night was poorly lit as the Hunter had begun to trim His chariot, and the hunt was largely hidden behind a thin layer of clouds. Nevertheless, a grey haze graced the camp with enough light for Canth to make out a figure. 

At first he thought someone had shoved a statue between the horses. It stood some four feet tall with features so sharp and lopsided that it look as if a craftsman had hastily hammered it from stone. An uneven nose protruded over a robust mustache of knotted, dark hair. Thousands more tiny braids joined the mustache to form a dense beard.  Two eyes fluttered  in the dim light. 

Suddenly they alighted on Canth and Castleia. 

"There," the Dwarf pointed a knobby finger. His voice grunted at the unfamiliar syllables, but his thin lips smiled under his beard. Two huge, cracked teeth riddled with web-like marks filled his mouth. "Take them." 

HURRAY! This book is coming along. It hasn't quite gathered a following yet, but I will keep chipping away to share the (hopefully) amazing ideas in my noggin. This chapter just about marks the half-way point (okay, probably more like one-third knowing me) in the story. How is it so far? Interesting? Slow? Intriguing? Dry? Please, please let me know with comments, votes, messages, or posts on my board. I LOVE hearing from people and sincerely want to know how to tailor a story that will bring YOU just as much fun reading it as I get writing it. Happy reading y'all!