Zander sighs, looking up at the open sky. This was far from an ideal solution, but even if he had stayed in Restov, Boss Sharptooth would have found him. This expedition was a godsend. He missed the city already, but there was nothing else for it. Who knows, maybe this trip would be good for him.

Zander looks around at the open plains, and shakes his head. Too much space. It made him uncomfortable.


"Is it just me or is anyone else hoping that this trading post has a half way decent saloon? There's not gonna be much comfort out here besides a stiff drink."

Zander grins, turning to the half-elf. "Oh, honey, amen to that. A good whiskey and a warm meal would sit in my belly well right about now."

He scratches Stephen behind the ears, and the horse snorts. "And maybe some nice hay for you, eh Stephen?"