Blacktail Deer Plateau Roman cavalry choirs are singing

Locked in caution, Malachi was uncertain how to take the other man's advice. He was grateful for the direction, but he couldn't ease the unreasonable part of him that feared his company acted with other motives in mind. He finally settled on, "Thank you, sir," and lowered his raised paw to the ground again. But he paused before moving forward, for the man spoke before he had the chance to carry himself away.

Though the question was simple, the words were loaded for the loner. What didn't lie on the other side? Every time he crested a peak, he climbed with understanding one of these times he would be met with the sight of the Glacier again, and the memories he suppressed would fill him again. The thought made his stomach churn, but the only way back to Blackwood Vale was past those troubled lands. But the thought of returning to Blackwood only made him feel ready to wretch. They had forced him away once. Who was to say they would take him back? And if they turned him away, then where would he go?

For a few moments he mulled in silence, unwilling to divulge these thoughts with the stranger from the plateau. The words he chose were few and lined with uncertainty of the hazy future that lay before him now. "Something good, I hope."