The wind whipped past her face as Bouda reached that wonderful smooth gait that felt like flying.

Lyssa lent forward over Bouda’s shaggy neck to avoid a mouthful, or eyeful, of bugs. Her fingers rubbed the fur in the rhythm of the gallop, while the other hand held the reins incase of an attack.

She couldn’t escape the sun beating down on her, as there was nothing to shade her, but the whistling air felt delightful on her heated skin. They had another mile of open grassland to go before they hit the forest, and she planned to enjoy every minute of it.

Her chainmail armor clanked, as the metal knocked against the sword she had strapped to her waist. Her shield also sat against her back along with her great sword. They weighed her down, and took away some of the enjoyment of her ride, reminding her of all the responsibilities she would face ahead, and those following behind.

In the distance the forest rose with the land, until hilltops broke through the canopy. Beyond them were even higher peaks that disappeared into the clouds. They looked deceptively close, as if they were only one or two days' ride away, but Lyssa had studied the maps, and knew they were a lot further than they appeared.

Lyssa slowed Bouda down from a gallop at the edge of the forest, but the path was wide enough that they didn’t need to stop.

The wagon made this trip every year, so it should be fine for one rider on a large horse. Anyone waiting in ambush would get a surprise, and any archers in the trees would have a hard time getting her in their sights.

The trees here were smaller than those around Hulna. Their trunks twisted and bent, growing from odd angles in an echo of the uneven ground. The branches were thick and close enough to the ground, just above head height, to be easy enough to climb if needed. They all still had their leaves making them a good place to put a lookout when they found a camp.

When she was a child, if you had told her so many different kinds of trees existed she would have called you a liar. The only trees she had ever seen had been big tall straight limbed trees that grew together in small clumps to survive the cold.

They didn’t have leaves and their needles stayed a dark green colour all year round. The pine needles that fell to the ground would turn brown and coat the forest floor in their death, but never the trees. They lived through everything.

It was only when she came south during the war that she had begun to understand how seasons changed, not just the landscape, but the colours as well.

In the north there had been two seasons, cold and colder, the only difference between them being the depth of the snow, and how big a fire you had to build to survive the cold. Or if hearths needed to be combined to pool resources, and gather as many people in one place as possible to conserve heat.

The path got narrower the further she rode into the forest, until the gradual incline of the ground erupted into a steep, wide hill with a path carved through the middle of the rock. Once it might have been a river, and maybe it would be again in winter, but right now it was the only way the path led.

That was the perfect place for an ambush, with the trees able to hide whoever waited above you, and no escape if the enemy blocked off the path behind. And with a wagon there didn’t look like there was an easy way round.

Lyssa tuned Bouda around, and they made their way much slower back to the wagon, so she could find a place to camp.

They wouldn’t be going anywhere near that gorge with the wagon and the supplies, until she had scouted that gorge thoroughly.

Not too far back along the path she found an old abandoned campsite. The gap in the trees that led to it had been small enough for her to miss on her way to the gorge, and so hopefully it was unknown to others as well. Not that they’d be able to hide a group their size for very long.

She dismounted and led Bouda through the trees, while breaking branches and making the way easier. Although she needn’t have bothered, because Bouda made her own trampled path anyway.

There was an old fire pit in the centre, filled with the charred remains of firewood and surrounded by rocks about the size of her head. There were young trees trying to grow where someone had cut down the old trees. It would take some work, but it wouldn’t be too hard to cut them down and restore the campsite.

She retrieved her small handaxe she kept for chopping firewood, and set about making them all a space to sleep, while Bouda set about eating the nearby bushes.

Lyssa was tempted to remove the chainmail, as sweat dripped down her face, irritating her skin, and making her itch, but anyone could be watching her, waiting for the perfect shot. It would be hard to hit her head, but her body would provide a nice big target for any archers. It wasn’t a risk worth taking.

Once most of the work was done she mounted Bouda and they headed back the way they came, to find the wagon making it’s way beneath the trees. Lyssa led them to the newly remade campsite.

They had to cut down some more trees to get the wagon off the road and nearer the camp, but there were many hands that made quick work of it.

Abi made herself scarce during the tree chopping, helping Rithrin put everything in the wagon in order, and then helping with the horses once the wagon was settled for the night.

Shira immediately set about organising the mercenaries on a rotating schedule so they could all get some rest. He put a few of them on scouting duty, a few others to watch the road, and the last to guard the camp.

Vat disappeared into the woods for a few hours, scouting out the immediate area, and probably going further than he should on his own. She had already told him of her own scouting, but there was still a distrust between them that only got worse as she stepped on his authority.

Lyssa settled Bouda down, away from the other horses, where there was plenty of foliage for her to eat as much as she wanted. She removed the chainmail, most of her bigger weapons and the shield, while checking for any wear and tear or cleaning that might need to be done. This left her with only one short sword and few daggers scattered about her person.

Lyssa started making a fire in the pit, even though the day was still hot and sunset was about an hour away. Everyone needed to be fed and rested so they could get an early start in the morning.

It was best that they indulge in the best food while they still had time to cook it. There was no point in waiting, and only eating hardtack for the next few days, only to find there was no time to stop and have a proper meal.

Vat joined her a short while later. He hummed a tune she didn’t know, as he sat across from her, with the fire crackling between them while he worked on cleaning his weapons. He wasn’t scared of her and he had yet to show any resentment, but he was wary, and it hadn’t escaped her notice that he usually put himself between her and the trader.

Trust had to be earned, and saving a life was such a little thing for people like them.

Lyssa still didn’t trust Vat or Shira either, and was aware of their positions at all times. The other mercenaries were barely a threat, and if one of them managed to kill her then she deserved to die. So far none of them had paid any special attention to Abi, but the second one did; they'd either end up incapable of threatening anyone, or dead. It depended on her mood as to which one would happen.

Vat put his weapons away, they hadn’t been very dirty to begin with, and helped with the cooking.

He stopped humming, and they talked about pleasantries and other things that didn’t matter much.

“There is another campsite nearer the gorge.” Vat said.

“Is that where you usually stay?” Lyssa asked.

“Yes, we’ve never had problems there.” He wiped his greasy hands on the grass, before rolling his shirt sleeves further up his arms, and tried to make them stay put.

“I don’t think we should take the chance.”

“As you say, but this feels too open. The other camp has a wall at one side. It’s good for defence.”

“I’m not worried about defending the camp here.” Lyssa said, stirring the pot of stew over the fire. “We’d be in more danger with a wall at our backs, because they could drop what they wanted on us and we wouldn’t be able to retaliate.” Lyssa withdrew her hand as the pot began to bubble. “I think the only enemies we face will be once the sun sets, and they’re more likely to be spies than warriors.”

She handed Vat a bowl, then she used the ladle to pour a portion into her bowl.

“I see, let’s hope that works in our favor. I much prefer straightforward battles where I can see the enemy. It's not much fun having to guess what they’re thinking and plan accordingly, before anything has even happened.”

“It’s not meant to be fun.” Shira said, as he sat down next to Vat, their bare arms pressed together as they leaned on one another. His scimitar was no longer at his hip, but he still had his bow strapped to his back.

Vat rolled his eyes. “I didn’t say it had to be all fun, but it doesn’t have to be quite so frustrating either.”

Abi sat down next to Lyssa, and eagerly grabbed some stew, while Rithrin lowered herself to the ground next to Vat, and more sedately waited for her turn with the pot.

“Do you want me to tell the Mikra story?” Shira asked, too innocently to be serious.

Vat shook his head. “No!” He gave Shira a nudge that almost knocked his bowl from his hand. “Why don’t we tell a story where my tactics save the day, instead of making our new friends doubt me.”

“Hmm…” Shira trailed off as if deep in thought.

“There has to be at least one or he wouldn’t be so confident.” Rithrin said, a smirk tilting her lips.

Vat gasped. “The insult!” He tried to sound angry, but there was a laugh in his voice he couldn’t hide. “When we first met my boldness saved you.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Shira asked.

At Lyssa’s side Abi giggled, and even the warrior smiled, but she still didn’t trust them yet. They might be good people, and probably were, but they had loyalty to each other, not to Abi, and definitely not Lyssa. It would take more than sharing a meal around a fire and telling stories.

Vat and Shira continued their back and forth, with Rithrin interjecting intermittently, and Abi asking questions to keep the stories coming.

Eventually darkness settled and the only light was from the slowly dying fire, that Lyssa hoped was low enough to not give their position away like a beacon. Vat had his head on Shira’s shoulder, and Rithrin looked like she was minutes away from falling asleep.

An easy silence had settled that allowed Lyssa to listen to their surroundings, and get a feel for the forest before she explored it.

“How long have you two been married?” Abi asked.

Vat blinked at the unexpected question. “We’re not married.”

“But you’re together.” Abi said, pointing at both of them.

“Yes.” Shira confirmed.

“And have been for a really long time.”

Vat straightened up. “Is this a roundabout way of saying we’re old?”

“No.” Abi said. “If you’ve been together that long why aren’t you married?”

Vat and Shira looked at each other, and opened their mouths to speak, but both said nothing. Rithrin had woken up and was looking very pleased with this new development.

“Because we don’t want to?” Vat asked, looking to Shira for confirmation.

“It’s never been important to us.” Shira said, trying to sound confident of his answer, but not quite pulling it off.

“How can it not be important?” Abi asked, scandalised that the two men appeared to have never had a discussion, or thought, about marriage.

“Not everyone gets married.” Lyssa said, standing up and patting Abi’s shoulder as she tidied up the cooking pot and bowls, using the action to hide her smile.

She kept one ear on the ongoing conversation, but was too amused at how Abi had just set fire to their nice quiet evening, to explain anything to her. The young women had reduced two fearless warriors to spluttering confusion with one innocent question.

Fortunately Rithrin was doing an admirable job of getting Abi to back off in her interrogation, and explaining the importance of marriage in Ghandan culture to the two baffled men. The trader also found the situation amusing, and did nothing to hide her own wide smile, but Vat and Shira were less likely to take offence at a friend laughing at them.

After a while Abi seemed to realise her questioning had gone too far and apologised, but she obviously wanted to ask more. Rithrin promised to explain different customs to her later, and the two men retreated, using the excuse of checking on the mercenaries to leave in opposite directions.

Lyssa beckoned Abi to follow her. If the girl was determined to go where there was danger, then she would keep her close where the warrior could protect her, instead of her getting into trouble on her own.