With panniers packed with whatever provisions I could muster, I made my way to the town indicated to me by the dead woman. I"d left the bodies of the brutes sent to kill me for the wolves, but her at least I put in the ground. I took the horses and plodded across the open fields. Everywhere white, as constant as a sea, nothing to guide me save for the position of the weak sun struggling to burn through the thick clouds, and by night whatever stars I managed to find. But I lost my way more than once and at one point was forced to butcher one of the horses. Unlike when I first set upon my journey, I now had flint and steel to make a fire, so my feast was wholesome and I survived, despite the numbing cold.
The town nestled beneath the mountain range of the Dovre, some miles south of Gaularda
