9
Mangin City
If Julian never saw another oak tree for as long as he lived, it would be too soon.
For the last week and a half, that was the only scenery they had: trees after trees after tress, with barely a clearing to find along the road, let alone a meadow or pasture. It was a good thing they had thought to bring fodder for the horses; two of the bags the packhorse carried was full of the stuff. There was not enough underbrush for the horses to get a decent meal without it, and that would have been ugly.
Oh sure, the woods were pretty enough. And the shade was nice. At this lower elevation, the summer heat was more oppressive than it ever was in the Vale even at summer's worst.
But the endless monotony of it came to be grating after a bit.
Julian managed to amuse himself with
