The Northern Wastes, late Summer's Beginning, 992 KY
Rodder Pawl looked down the long, curving ridge jutting out of the lake and shivered. What a fate it would be for his horse to lose her footing and drag him caravan and all down the steep wooded hillsides into that lake, icy blue even on this warm summer day with the air full of sharp green and warm brown smells. But the track was wide, his caravan sturdy, and his mare sure-footed. There would be no accident before he entered the walls of Gremassem.