The gray canopy of sky hung low, and a fine drizzle, soft as a gauzy veil, shrouded Dart.
The morning air was filled with the fresh scent of earth.
For this little town, a spring rain was nothing short of a miracle.
The wasteland's climate had always been harsh. Even counting generously, there were fewer than seventy rainy days a year, and the vast majority were fleeting showers concentrated in the scorching heat of summer.
Evaporation here was year-round several times, even dozens of times, greater than precipitation. Dryness and blowing sand were eternal themes.
Thus, when this fine rain arrived quietly in the morning, the townsfolk spilled out onto the muddy streets.
Cool raindrops fell upon rough cheeks and hair, and every face shone with irrepressible joy.
Yesterday had happened to be Green Grass Festival, and many people still had heather branches hanging over their doorways. Now, they pressed their hands together devoutly and murmured praises for the Earth Mother Goddess's favor.
In their eyes, this was undoubtedly the kindest response from she who was known as the "Generous Giver," foretelling an excellent beginning for this year's spring sowing.
Meanwhile, on the dirt road beyond the outskirts of town, spring's vitality and restlessness were playing out in another, far more straightforward fashion.
"Neigh!"
A vigorous brown horse pranced excitedly around a carriage preparing to depart.
It was the female knight Edlin's mount, Right Hand.
At this moment, all of its attention was fixed on the mare pulling the carriage.
The mare was a full size larger than Right Hand, her muscles knotted and powerful—the typical build of a packhorse. Yet this clearly did nothing to curb Right Hand's ardor.
With its neck craned high, it let out rapid, shrill whinnies, repeatedly pressing forward to carefully sniff the mare's neck