The white mist reduced the distant rocky ridges to vague outlines.
The wheels rolled over sparse grass, leaving behind four ruts of varying depth.
The terrain gradually rose, and enormous bare gray boulders began to appear along the roadside. The dampness in the air steadily increased.
About twenty minutes later.
Edlin swung down from her horse, stopped the two carriages, then led her warhorse toward a rocky patch by the roadside.
"Park the carriages here." She looked at Ulag, who was serving as the driver. "The road ahead is too narrow, and the terrain is complicated. The carriages can't get through."
Ulag pulled on the reins, and the two carriages came to a stop one after the other.
Edlin drove ground stakes into the earth, threaded rope loops through the iron rings, and skillfully tied slipknots, leaving the loose ends on the outside.
After securing the first pair, she handled the second in the same way.
Finally, she walked over to her agile brown horse and gently patted its neck.
The warhorse lowered its head to sniff the slipknot and snorted.
Its right forehoof stamped restlessly against the ground.
"Right Hand, stay sharp. If anything happens, help them pull loose and run," Edlin instructed in a low voice.
The brown horse snorted again, as if to say that hardly needed explaining.
Ulag, who had climbed down from the carriage, glanced at the horse, then at Edlin.
"Right Hand..."
The dwarf scratched his beard, muttering inwardly, Why would a horse be called a hand? Why not Left Hand? Is the right hand stronger?
The group continued onward on foot.
The heather shrubs began to thin out, replaced by wide stretches of exposed gray rock and low grassland.
The view opened up somewhat, while the ground beneath their feet turned into sandy