A Cold Day's March

As we made our way down the rolling hills today the weather closed in.  It began to rain and it was cold once again.  It wasn't the sharp frosty cold that we've had overnight a few times recently.  This was a cool chill, carried partly by the water that leaves you chilled to the core and aching in the fingertips.

It has been an uneventful walk too.  We'd expected to see Gurgam or Ogruks around here but there has been none.  With the heavy cloud we've not been able to see all that far across the rolling hills of this valley, though - it could be they're out there and we've just missed it because of the rain.

Everything seems to dull and grey in this weather.  We can see maybe a mile or into the distance, and its starting to fray a few tempers.  The rain picked up to a downpour just before lunch, and we had no shelter.  We were soaked.  Even the cold meat we ate at lunchtime tasted grey and rain-sodden.

We reached a copse of trees mid afternoon, this gave us some shelter from the rain, and as we walked further through the woodland the rain continued to abate.  The trees gave out and then there were more of them.  By early evening the rain was down to just a fine drizzle, and there were bright patches of sunshine breaking through the cloud as the sun marched westward.  This seemed to lift the spirits of the Hznaman considerably.  I must admit that I'd missed Barr's dry sense of humour during the say, and it returned as everyone cheered up.  Or perhaps everyone cheered up because it returned.

We found yet another copse of trees by early evening sat over a small stream.  We found a place to camp in a low section of the stream bank, with a natural cutting forming something of an arc away from the river.  With everything so damp I thought there would be no fire, but Mullory had a small blaze going in no time at all.  I think the others had some dry kindling and tinder, I immediately went and collected some of the older fallen wood nearby which might dry out enough to keep the fire going later on.  There was still some meat left and we finished that off between us.  Barr gave a little sigh as I handed him the last of it.  He doesn't seem to be in the mood for hunting right now, he mentioned how he hated setting up camp in damp underwear - it usually, he said, interferes with his nights sleep.  And it chafes.

As we'd approached this camp site I'd had the growing feeling that this place is familiar.  With every step I've taken here, it has seemed more like the wider view I had from Marrekt and Birgelth.  I think we're on the right track to reach the lands of the Gnaeblin.  We cannot be far away now - but if we're that close why haven't we seen any Gurgam?