‘There was never a road or trail,’ Birin replied, ‘for when our ancestors first came to these lands, they were uncharted wilderness. We do have maps, of course, but they are ancient; we cannot expect to rely on them.’
‘And you still think the Pixies and other people would have left this way?’ asked Ralph.
‘That is a certainty,’ replied Birin, ‘for they had no other way to go. In every other direction lies the lands of Elves, Dwarves, and Men.’ He left unsaid what lay to the North.
As they passed the last visible sign of habitation, an overgrown abandoned farm with gaunt grey derelict buildings leaning in every attitude of collapse and decay, the road became a path, a trail, a guess, and then failed altogether. The ever narrowing valley floor had become an area of rolling grassland dotted with clumps of stunted trees. The damp air was cold and mist-shrouded, the visibility ahead uncertain.
To Pran, Ralph said, ‘I think we should take our horses and ride ahead for a bit. I don’t like this fog.’
When Pran readily assented, Ralph noticed Theuli’s concerned response.
Once they were mounted and away from the wagon, Ralph said, ‘Sorry. I just wanted to get away for a bit so we could talk. I didn’t mean to worry Theuli like that.’