To the north-west, beyond the end of the eastern hills and off to the horizon, stood Conflux Mountain. The mountain itself was a spectacular peak, but it was the spiral of magical metal encircling the top quarter that made it so easy to identify from afar.

In fairer weather, they’d have been able to see the mystical purple grass of the mountain, and even spot the Holy Mission’s doorway etched into the side, illuminated as it is with magical fire.

In the snow, though, it appeared as a mighty white monolith: sheer and impregnable.

To the west, along the coast, Perry pointed out the dockyard attached to Vendavel. The fortress of Vendavel itself was more visible from the eastern hills than from anywhere else in the Chersonese, but the dockyard was a yet rarer sight. It sat, secreted away in the side of the cliff face. Access was possible exclusively by sea, or through Vendavel itself.

“You’re not thinking of sailing back to Cierzo, are you Perry?” Baba questioned, jokingly.

“Oh, sure” exclaimed Perry between laboured breaths “We’ll just, ask really, really, nicely…and they’ll invite us in…to Vendavel…for some…”

The pace of his speech and heaviness of his breath spurred Baba to step forward, side-by-side with the older adventurer. He clasped her shoulder yet again, and they stood still a moment.

This was still the first descent…this was the easy bit, thought Baba.

“…invite us in for some Gaberry wine” finished Perry, with a tinge of regret over choosing now to give a sarcastic remark about Vendavel bandits. One over-exertion is the only excuse the Chersonese needs to ruin you, especially in winter.

Baba untied her water-skin and placed it in Perry’s hand. He unscrewed the lid and took one sip, before tying it back to her pack.

“You know we can’t drink this often, I can’t make more pure water out here, like this. We’re lucky I even managed to make this amount with those obsidian demons in the cave hunting us down.”

“I know” Interrupted Baba, all too aware of the situation with their supplies.

Her curt tone wasn’t at the shortage of rations, it was at Perry’s silence about his weakness. Baba hadn’t just felt his exhaustion on her shoulders, but in following his footsteps through the snow she had noticed them become less even, closer together.

“I know we have low supplies. Which is why we need to be moving at full speed, or at least as fast as we can manage. Slowing down from dehydration will only make our journey even harder. Especially when we lose this sunlight.”

It was around midday when the pair left the cave, and now they had made it to the base of the eastern hills, with Vendavel off their west and Conflux Mountain to their north. The leg had taken them hours, and it was approaching dusk.

“Speaking of which,” she continued “it’ll be dusk soon, and we need a camp in this cold. We’ll need torches. I’m doing my job and carrying all this, you need to find a way to magic us some more fire.”

It was unusual for Baba to be so direct. Perhaps it was the dread of winter, or the fact that Perry was saving every ounce of energy to fight the cold and so couldn’t justify interrupting. In a strange way, Perry was proud of Baba for accounting for so much, and for knowing her limits. If she ever makes the trip into Conflux Mountain, he thought, she’d get far more Mana than he could ever handle.

“You’re…right” stuttered Perry, refusing to address the list of issues Baba had aired. He hoped she’d take this resignation as permission to lead, so he could focus on his Mana.

He was made proud once again, as Baba did just that.

For the next hour Baba stormed ahead 50 paces at a time, using the time while waiting for Perry to catch up to organise her pack to make sure camp could be made promptly if a location should avail itself.

She focused on her lessons from her first outing. Camp needs to be safe not just when you set it up, but for the whole night. It’s no good pitching in a quiet clearing if you wake up to a Manticore tail piercing your canvas and injecting you with lethal venom.

With Vendavel to the west, the eastern side of the valley would be safest. It provides line-of-sight to approaching bandits from Vendavel, and shields from the winds circling Conflux Mountain. Since the winds raged clock-wise, the camp should be on an eastern slope facing west.

Baba examined the hill every time she stopped for Perry, but her training had been in spring.

Identifying flat enough ground and suitable anchor points was impossible in the snow, made worse by the fact there were no butterflies to be seen.

Baba hadn’t believed commander Carillon when he told her to look for blue butterflies every time she makes camp outside Cierzo. Even in a world where adventurers make pilgrimage to a magical stone and draw power from it; it seemed too good to be true that blue butterflies provided any meaningful safety. It was only during her third outing that she experienced it first-hand. Now, she lived by it.

The idea of finding a safe spot to camp this close to Vendavel in winter was daunting to a young adventurer, but after her clear instructions for Perry to do his job while she did hers she knew she had to pull through, somehow.

That’s when they heard it.

A shill screech echoed in the valley, and Baba pivoted to sprint back to Perry who was 30 paces behind. Perry had heard it too, and grabbed Baba when she got close, throwing her to the floor with a crunch.

The power core could survive anything, and everything else in her pack was, to Perry, optional.

Baba yelled and wormed her way free of the huge pack, leaving it in the snow next to her. She stayed on the freezing floor, trusting that Perry wouldn’t act this way unsanctioned. You don’t survive the Chersonese by causing a fuss.

A moment later she heard Perry hit the ground the other side of her pack with a loud thud.

There was silence. The wind couldn’t reach this deep into the valley, Vendavel was too far for the sounds of ships and bandit banter to reach them, and Conflux Mountain’s low churning hum was still further to the north.

They were, for all intents and purposes, in the middle of nowhere.

Baba heard a hoarse whisper

“Baba, that was a Wendigo”

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