Chapter 2: The Road to Redcliffe

Wordcount: 8.425

In which they deal with a storm and several delays.

WARNINGS: - fantasy racism

Bodahn and Sandal quickly became a permanent fixture in their little party. It worked out well for everyone: Sten got his rides on their wagon; Astala got some healing poultices, oil and wax to make more, a spare backpack and some clothing and the (written) promise of armor and suitable weapons for Sten in exchange for her old dwarven coin; and when blighted wolves sniffed them out and came charging out of the trees, Sulri, Alistair and Astala could give everyone enough of a warning to avoid death, dismemberment, and lost cargo. After a while the Imperial Highway merged directly into the hills, sparing them some climbing. Then, however, it morphed into a dirt road with no stones underfoot and so many potholes that Bodahn’s wagon bounced rather than rolled along it. Astala watched the thing trundle along and felt each hole in her spine. That wagon, it seemed to her, was only waiting to break down, or to shake Sten fully off. The rest of her companions didn’t seem bothered. Leliana even remarked how much better this road was compared to the one leading from Ferelden to Orlais. Astala came to the conclusion that this careless attitude and the state of the road was a direct consequence of being so woefully far away from Denerim.