The tent smelled of must and cabbages, but it had a serviceable ceiling and leather door-flaps that could seal tightly against wind and insects. Jake wondered if they would bother using it, after all. The outside air was easier on the nose, and the night turned out to be fairly temperate.

A crescent moon peered between the latticework of branches and leaves overhead. A slight chill crept through the air, and Jake shivered and did up the top button of his jacket.

“Excellent firewood acquisition,” Jake grinned at Fenn as the frost fae dumped his armload of twigs near the tent. The half elf sat down and shaped the sticks into a cubelike formation, made of layers so that fresh wood would fall into the fire as the kindling burned to ash.

“Stand back,” Jake followed his own advice, hopping to his feet and retreating a step. He raised his hands and bit his lip, focusing as he called on his connection to the Eternal Tap. A ball of fire the size of a pebble appeared between his hands, pulsating and growing until it was bigger than his head. He tossed the fireball carefully into the sticks, and they erupted in flame with a whoosh! of displaced air. Heat flared for a moment, but then settled lower as the campfire crackled merrily.

Jake sat close to the dancing flames and shrugged out of his haversack. He undid the drawstrings as firelight played over his face and produced a heel of bread, several chunks of cheese, and some strips of saltbeef. He split the bread and stacked half the cheese and dried meat on one heel, passing it to Fenn, who bobbed his head in thanks and tore into the food hungrily.

It was odd, having a mute partner in crime. As Jake enjoyed the salty, savory flavours he found the silence comfortable, but a little strange. The shapes of the trees out in the darkness seemed to call for some sound. A story, perhaps.

“The horse we’re looking to steal tomorrow will be a yearling,” Jake said, curling his knees against his chest as he finished his food. “A little, young one. I got my last horse Gunner as a yearling.”

Fenn’s expressive green eyes seemed to ask, what happened to him?

“We had many great adventures together. He saved my life several times. Until one day in Alerar… I was searching for a Crystal Sword called Long, the Dragon. I ran afoul of some bandits and they put four musket balls in Gunner’s flank before I knew what was happening. I buried him alongside the road, after I killed the elves responsible.”

Fenn’s wide emerald orbs expressed his condolences, and he reached out to pat Jake on the shoulder.

“Thanks buddy. You would have liked Gunner. I’m sure Daugi would have as well… perhaps too much.” The half elf chuckled as the dire wolf snuffled at the mention of her name.