Malthooz awoke as a ray of sunlight burned through the fog and landed on his closed eyes. The brightness shining through his eyelids chased the sleep from his mind. Vadania tended a small fire. She'd taken the last watch. An earthy smell wafted from a kettle suspended over the blaze, hanging from a makeshift tripod of driftwood. She watched Malthooz rise and poured him a mug of brown tea.

"It's not much to chew on," she said, handing it to him, "but it will chase the chill from your bones."

He took a drink. It was bitter, but not unpleasant.

"I remember now what happened yesterday," he said.

The druid set her mug down.

"You were visited," she said. It was not a question. She spoke as though she already knew what had happened to him. "I noticed the symbol back at the inn. I wasn't sure you knew what it was at the time. I am now."

He told her about the time he'd spent with the cleric and about the things he'd been taught, how he'd been told that he was chosen by Pelor and that it wasn't really up to him one way or another. Vadania listened to his story, nodding occasionally but otherwise keeping quiet. When he was finished, they sat in silence for a few minutes.

Vadania finally spoke. "Your only choice now is whether you heed the calling or not." She smiled. "It could be worse."

"Could it?" Malthooz asked, looking into the empty mug in his hands.

The others soon rose. Camp was broken after a quick meal of leftover crabmeat. Malthooz was surprised by how much Krusk's demeanor had changed since the previous evening.

"He almost appears to be looking forward to the journey," Lidda remarked as she slung her crossbow across her shoulder.

"Yeah, but don't ask him about his change of heart. You might upset him again," Malthooz replied jokingly, though he kept his voice down.

"I don't know," the rogue responded, watching Krusk kick sand over the glowing embers from the fire. "I think he and the druid had some words last night." She grinned. "Whatever she said, she finally got something through to the oaf. Nonetheless, we probably shouldn't push it."

The climb up to the top of the bluff took hours, but wasn't overly difficult. The scene at the top was as the druid described. Blackened deer carcasses and piles of frayed bones littered the area. It didn't look so much like a camp as the place where a pack of wild dogs had sheltered. Tattered bits of clothing were mixed in with the other trash.

"Poor bastard," Krusk said, tossing aside the torn sleeve of a sailor's jacket. Embroidery of gold and silver thread made a pattern of bars on the shoulder. "I doubt that death came swiftly for this unfortunate soul."

"I don't think we're doing ourselves any favors hanging around here," Lidda said. "We should move on. I'd like to be as far from here as possible by nightfall."

"Yes, the neglect and disrespect pains my soul even more seeing it up close," Vadania said.

Krusk set his boot down inside a large set of footprints. The depression dwarfed the half-orc's foot by inches. Numerous sets of smaller prints ran alongside them. All pointed east, back into the forest.

"Not many people venture into the Deepwood this far north," Vadania said, "even among the daring."

Her words sent a shiver through Malthooz.

The druid led them along the trail. Mialee followed close behind her. Malthooz and Krusk walked behind the wizard and Lidda covered the rear, her crossbow drawn.

"Don't you ever tire of keeping your guard like that, Lidda?" Mialee asked.

"I let my guard down once. I will never make that mistake again," the rogue replied.

She lifted her leather armor, exposing a jagged scar on her abdomen.

Malthooz was learning that the rogue was not half so serious as she seemed most of the time. She had a quick wit and was not afraid to use it. Still, it was a bit unnerving the way she could change so quickly, not unlike Krusk. One minute she was joking and the next she was poised to kill. He realized how valuable that was in a profession where a moment's hesitation meant death or imprisonment. Having spent only a matter of days with the woman, he considered her one of the few people to whom he would trust his life. But the same went for any of the others. Malthooz was beginning to understand how the life of adventure had drawn Krusk and how the bonds of camaraderie held them together. They might bicker during quiet times, but they would watch each others' backs when it counted.

A chill wind swept south across the region as the day wore on and they followed the trail across the barren land. It was an inhospitable place, bordered by high mountain ranges to the north. To the south, open plains were just visible beyond the reaches of Deepwood. If the tracks kept straight on, they would enter the forest a half-day's journey ahead.

Scrub yielded slowly to the woodlands. Stunted trees dotted the scenery and low, woody bushes became more frequent. It was not a pleasant place to be, and the isolation of the landscape was made even more oppressive by the evidence of their quarry's passage. Shrubs were trampled flat. Saplings had been uprooted. The ground was mired with muddy snow. It was little consolation that the muck made the trail easy to follow. Even the few yellow flowers they saw poking up between mounds of slush did little to dispel the severe feel of the place.

The pursuers stopped at midday to rest and eat. Krusk badgered Vadania to look for something tastier than trail rations, but she wouldn't do it, arguing that she would not further upset the balance of nature in the face of so much wanton destruction.

Malthooz took his club from his belt to practice the moves that the women had taught him. He saw Krusk grab his axe and move toward him. Malthooz dropped his arm to his side.

"I talked to the druid," Krusk said, raising his axe. "I know about the symbol and your vision."

Malthooz was stunned, unable to read the barbarian's emotions. Krusk nodded to his club and Malthooz raised it in front of himself, spreading his legs to match Krusk's stance.

"The elves know how to fight," the barbarian said, "but they don't know how we fight."

He swung his axe around on a small tree. The blade sliced cleanly through the three-inch trunk, toppling it to the ground.

Krusk ignored the glare Vadania shot him and continued, "You must use your strength to your advantage. Put the whole strike back " He rested the head of his axe on the ground and added, "I am not going back to the village."

"I know that," Malthooz said, nodding.

"Just so we're clear."

Krusk walked back to where the others were seated. Malthooz followed him over.

"It was really more an audience than a vision, I think. I saw this," Malthooz said, reaching into the neck of his tunic and drawing forth the wooden symbol. "I felt something coursing through me that I've never felt the likes of before. It comes back, though much reduced in strength, when I touch this."

"A cleric?" Mialee asked, moving closer and taking the symbol from his hands. "It's certainly not like most of the symbols I've seen. They are generally made of silver or better."

"That may be, but whether that's a requirement of the god or of a cleric's vanity is an open question," Vadania said. "It is not unlike a fetish to the nature gods. Still, I agree that it is unusual for Pelor to grant favor to a half-orc."

"Bah," Krusk sputtered. "I think you're letting that blow go to your head. Gods! What good have they done for your village? All of the praying and ceremony of the zealots never stopped the worgs from carrying off livestock or children. Stick to the club. The wolves understand what a bash on the snout means."

Malthooz took the symbol back from the wizard and dropped it down the front of his tunic.

"Say what you will, Krusk. I don't expect you to understand."