Act 1: Ottolenghi's Wheelhouse

Spice infused air crystallized in the cold air, ebbing out of the cloak figurers mouth.

A plate of eaten lamb hastily eaten now lay on pile of dry hay in the corner of the stable.

A warm wet snout nuzzled into in the soft nape of the cloaked figures neck. A gloved hand gently stroked the ashen mare's mane.

A gentle whinny danced about the stable, the horse slowly calming after the calamity that broke the calm of the warm in that stood under the Croal Mountain.

Tears rolling off gentle cheek clasping onto the strong animals midline facial crest.

"Xander? Are you there? The rest of the group decided we should head to Rime." Syrillian yelled into the blackness holding for a response.

Uh ....- Yes I'm here.

Xander responded as mask and hood were pulled into place.. The tone was soft at first abruptly returning to a deep- raspier tombre.

He paced to where Syrillian called out from,

"The Rime?... We'll need to prepare."

The cloaked figure pushed past Syrillian, looking away from him as he past, trying to hide salt rimmed eyes.