The trudge north is as hellish as he remembers. He travels quickly and silently without the burden of his underlings. Allard bows his head against the vicious wind. The first hour or so after waving goodbye to Burt and Adventurer had been refreshing; he realized how much babying the two guildlings required while they were traveling through less-than-friendly territory.

“Burt…”

You lie half asleep in your sleeping bag, it’s almost dawn and you hear a faint whisper. You ponder for a moment, wondering if you’re dreaming about someone trying to catch Burt’s attention, or if Burt is just muttering his own name in his sleep.

Deep in the Sunshade Mountains…

This cursed shard. There is no doubt this is the artifact my father attempted to carry to Amalhasu. Even after wrapping it in layers of cowhide the mere presence of it brings up memories of that oaf. It’s heavy. I feel it draining my power, my very soul, as I carry it through these forests.

Silence. The bells slowly stop tolling and the cathedral falls into an ominous quiet. You and Burt look at each other with worried eyes as you follow Allard through the large wooden doors to the narthex. Stone rubble and broken glass lie scattered across the floor. The doors to the main hall have long since fallen from their hinges. Though darkness consumes the structure, the full moon glistens through the broken stained glass and dilapidated doorway.

“You sure Sprinkles didn’t cast some spell on me?” groans Burt as the party steps back out into the street, now flooded with the crimson glow of the setting sun. “I sure feel light-headed.”

“I’d love to say you’re just plain lazy, Burt,” says Allard. “But really, you’re exhausted. Coming into this after all that fuss at the Shuffle. We’ve still a long way ahead, so you better take care of yourself.”

My mornings all begin the same, right before the sun peeks over the meadows in the east. While the warblers stir me from my slumber, it’s the western thrasher that motivates me to climb out of bed. That brown bird with its black spots dancing across its breast has some of the most wonderful songs I’ve ever heard. This is when I open the window and spread my arms for the morning stretch, welcoming the lovely day ahead.