While Anders rested his arm, the others assisted in moving the wagon and the oxen off the main trail. Their personal belongings were removed and redistributed to their owners, and they covered the remaining mining supplies with branches and boughs harvested from the underbrush of nearby trees. The oxen were docile; with nobody holding their reins they were content to simply stand still and wait. 

Orsik noticed a few strange things about the area. Hollows had been dug out and surrounded with natural elements for camouflage, and scraps of arrow fletching materials and other signs of occupation were present.  “Those wee buggers have been staging ambushes here for some time,” he said, using a long branch to disassemble a rough half-hide. A small cask of ale rolled down to his boot; he shrugged, picked it up, and added it to his pack.

“Nasty things, aren’t they?” Westra commented. “I think we should dismantle anything they’ve set up here, and hope that it deters them from ambushing other unwary travelers.” 

Orsik nodded his agreement; he and Trym kept to one side of the road, while Westra and Ielenia went to the other side. Once they were out of earshot, Trym asked him: “Are you sure we can trust these people?”

“Am I ever sure of anything?” The dwarf frowned, touching the amulet that hung around his neck. “They seem to be decent folk, for the most part.”  He placed a hand on Trym’s shoulder. “I can tell that you’re still upset,” he said in his low, gruff voice. One of the things Trym had learned in their many years of acquaintance was the gruffer his voice was, the kinder his intent.

She shrugged. “I’ll get over it. I always do.” Her voice was light and flippant, but her brow was still wrinkled and the corners of her mouth downturned. “It’s not really like I have a choice, is it? She’s coming along, and I know her type. Oghma worshippers get so wrapped up in the pursuit of knowledge that reason often escapes them, and the sun elves already believe that they’re better than everyone else.”

“Are you going to be able to work with her?” he asked. “We don’t know what we’re walking into, and a time might come when you have to trust her. Lives could depend on it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Spare me the lecture, Sarge. You and me, we have a history, but the rest of these folk are strangers… and I try not to make a habit of trusting strangers with my life.” She touched the scar on her nose. “My face is small, and I don’t have a whole lot of room left to wear more of my mistakes.” 

Orsik sighed. “We did just work together to win a fight, and Ielenia did her part. Surely that earns her some good will?”

Trym sighed. “Don’t worry about me, Sarge. I can work with her.”

“And the others?”

“Westra’s solid, and Anders tries too hard to sound smart but he’s good in a scrap. And,” she said begrudgingly, “that Ray of Frost spell was pretty good.”

—

On the other side of the road, Westra and Ielenia were having a similar discussion. “The halfling woman seems…very angry,” Ielenia said as she knocked a goblin hiding spot down with her foot. “How long have you been travelling with her?”

“I met her and the others two days ago, and today’s our first day of travelling,” Westra replied, scouring the woods for more goblin setups to dismantle. “I don’t know her that well, but in Trym’s defense, you did drag her back by her cloak.”

Ielenia’s golden eyes flickered with surprise. “The dwarf was calling for her to stop, and she was not listening. It seemed to be the most effective course of action.” She thought for a moment. “I have not tried to use Mage Hand to physically lift someone, but I do not think it would work, even on one so small.”

Westra covered a smile with her hand. “I get the impression that you spend a lot of time in your temples,” she said, “and less time interacting with people in the real world.”

“This is true,” Ielenia admitted. “I much prefer my books and scrolls to conversations and companions. But I was successful in getting her to stop, was I not?”

“Yes, but out here in the world people have feelings and emotions, like pride. We aren’t the same from one moment to the next, because life affects us.”

Ielenia arched one perfect golden eyebrow. “So you think that I have injured her pride, and that is why she is so angry with me?”

Westra shrugged. “Like I said, I don’t really know Trym. I do know that I wouldn’t be happy if somebody had dragged me to the ground by my cloak.”

“I suppose I would not like it either,” Ielenia mused. “I will not do such a thing again.”

“Also, if you plan to apologize…I would do so privately, and not in front of the group,” Westra added. 

“Why is this?”

“It is entirely possible that Trym was embarrassed, and sometimes a public apology only serves to deepen that embarrassment.”

“You seem very knowledgeable about these matters for one so young,” Ielenia commented.

Westra snorted. “Benefits of being raised amongst the rich and powerful of Waterdeep,” she replied. “I had a lot of opportunity to watch their theatre of personal interactions.”

“Are you a member of the nobility, then?” Ielenia did not hide her facial expressions; she was visibly surprised. Westra was caught somewhere between amused and mildly offended.

“In theory; my family’s lands were destroyed in the eruption of Mount Hotenow.” Westra plucked a piece of tree from her braided hair. “In life, my father was the Count of Corlinn Hill.”

“So we should be addressing you as Lady Hornraven,” Ielenia said. 

“Oh, please don’t,” she said. “It’s only a circumstance of birth, I’ve done nothing to earn it.”

“As you wish,” Ielenia replied. “If you come from wealth and connection, why are you travelling to a place such as Phandalin?”

Westra grinned; her smile was slightly crooked, deep blue eyes earnest and sparkling. “I’m trying to earn my family’s honours.”

—

Orsik examined the wound in Anders’ shoulder and proclaimed him fit. Trym led the group up through the woods to where she’d stuck her dagger in a tree. “This is where that last goblin was dragging himself off to,” she said, wiggling the dagger free from the bark and returning it to her boot. 

Westra knelt and examined the area closely. “Looks like a dozen or so goblins have been through here,” she said, pursing her lips. “And…look there. Something bigger than a goblin was dragged up the trail…two, side by side.”

“Gundren,” Orsik exhaled. 

“And Sildar,” Westra added. “This is definitely their trail. Well done, Trym.” She stood and brushed the dirt from her knees. “It’s not wide enough to travel together, so we should walk up one by one.” She looked around. “Does anybody care to lead? Orsik?”

Orsik hesitated. “Seems like you’re already doing a fine job of leading,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes. “I’ll bring up the rear, make sure we aren’t being followed.”

She nodded, and the rest of them arranged themselves between Westra and Orsik. Ielenia stuck close to Westra, given that Westra had given her the warmest welcome; Anders was close behind. Trym stayed near the back with Orsik. “You okay?” Trym asked him quietly.

“Aye,” he replied. “I just prefer to have a bit more time to think, is all…hard to think when you’re on the front lines.” 

“Ready?” Westra asked, voice low. When they nodded their assent, she began up the trail. “Keep your eyes open,” she said. “They can be devious.”

After ten minutes of walking, Westra held up her fist to halt the group, and pointed to the reason for the stop: a coiled rope snare, waiting for an unwitting wanderer to step in. Looking around, she spotted a thick branch just to the side of the trail and picked it up. Moving carefully, she hooked the end of the snare with the branch and gave a hard tug; the hook and anchor triggered, and the snare tightened around the branch, hauling it out of Westra’s hands and into the air. She closed her eyes and turned her head to the side as the sprung trap carried leaves and dirt up with it. She brushed herself off, and continued on.

Westra’s luck didn’t hold for long. After another ten minutes of walking, she heard a slow creaking noise. Looking down at her feet, she noticed wood planks underneath the leaves. And then, she disappeared from sight.

“Westra!” Anders called out, voice thick with concern.

She landed at the bottom of the pit on her hands and her knees with a heavy thud. Groaning, she raised her upper body and looked up to the top of the pit, where Ielenia and Anders were staring down at her. “I’m fine,” she said, wincing as she rose to her feet. Anders and Ielenia both extended their hands to her, and they pulled her out of the pit. Sighing, she began to dust herself off again.

“You are always doing that,” Ielenia commented. “I am not sure why, given that we are still outside and in the woods.”

Westra looked surprised. “I hadn’t noticed,” she murmured. “I suppose I don’t like to be dirty for any longer than is necessary.”

Anders reached over and pulled a leaf from her hair. “How do you feel about leaves as hair ornaments?”

Westra ran her hands over the sides of her head. “Better?”

He grinned. “It’s difficult to improve on perfection, but yes.”

Westra rolled her eyes, though her cheeks flushed scarlet; Trym made fake gagging noises from the back.

The group carried on, until they came upon a small clearing ending at a steep hillside; carved into the hillside was a large cave, with a shallow stream flowing from its mouth. The clearing was on the west side of the stream, and the only path into the cave was on the east side. The east side was also heavily bordered by briar thickets. Westra halted the group once more.

“If they were clever enough to set up an ambush post, they might have guards stationed near the entrance,” she said in a low voice. She looked down at herself and frowned. “My chainmail doesn’t lend itself to stealth,” she said, “nor does Orsik’s. Do the rest of you want to scout ahead and see if there’s a guard posted? If there are guards, we might be able to take them by surprise…the noise of the stream should provide you with some cover.”

Anders nodded and started off across the stream, with Trym right on his heels. Ielenia paused momentarily, looking at the water with her nose wrinkled; then she too was on her way across the stream.

Westra looked at Orsik. “I hope you don’t feel as if I’ve pushed you to the side,” she said, brow furrowed with concern. “It certainly wasn’t my intention.”

“No, no, you’re fine, lass,” Orsik said, waving her concerns away with a hand. “Truth be told, I’m glad you’ve got a spine…with your aversion to dirt and the obvious quality of your clothes and arms, I figured you for some bored noblewoman looking for adventure.” He cleared his throat. “No offense meant, of course.”

“Of course,” she replied wryly. “And you were right – I am a noblewoman, and I was bored.” She winked at him. “Lucky for you, my father made me train for hours on end in all sorts of situations before I was even allowed to hold the family axe.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the clearing, Anders, Trym, and Ielenia had crossed the stream, stepping carefully to avoid splashing, and were creeping towards the northernmost edge of the thicket. Trym, being the smallest, crept to the front of their little party and peered around – part of the thicket had been hollowed out, with wooden planks flattening some of the briars. Two goblins were there, but they seemed too preoccupied with throwing a stick back and forth at one another to pay much attention to Trym.

She turned back and held up two fingers. Ielenia used her mage hand trick to repeat the two fingers back to Westra and Orsik on the other side of the bank. The hand then pointed at the human and the dwarf, before gesturing at them to stop.

“I would guess that they want us to wait,” Orsik muttered. Westra nodded her agreement. The disembodied hand floated back to the group on the other side.

Trym mouthed the words “on three” to Anders and Ielenia, both of whom nodded to agree. One. Two. Three.

Trym and Ielenia rushed the goblins at the guardpost, while Anders kept his distance behind and readied his longbow; the goblins, taken unawares, stared at the intruders with slack-jawed stupidity. Trym unsheathed her shortsword and slashed at one goblin across its chest; the creature didn’t even have time to raise its shield before it fell to the earth, writhing in pain. Anders released his arrow, sending it whistling past Ielenia and sinking it deep into the stomach of the second goblin guard; the goblin pawed futilely at the arrow before sinking to its knees. 

Ielenia touched the second goblin with a hand and, keeping her voice low, said “Shocking Grasp.” The goblin arched its back as lightning coursed through its veins, and it toppled sideways, dead.

Hearing the sounds of the skirmish from the other side of the stream, Westra and Orsik charged through the water to join their allies. They rounded the thicket just in time to see Trym finish off the first goblin. “Commanding from the rear, eh?” she said to Orsik, grinning. “Careful, Sarge. Your military training is starting to show.”

“Military?” Anders asked. “I didn’t know you were a military man.”

“I was,” Orsik admitted, “but at this precise time whether or not I remain so is up for heavy debate.”

“Well, I guess that takes care of the guards,” Westra said. “Let’s move on, in case more of them decide to show up.”

The air immediately cooled once they were inside the mouth of the cave. The stream running through it caused the hard stone walls to be perpetually damp, the kind of dampness that builds up and trickles down in little rivulets, or drops from the cave roof and unerringly finds some small patch of bare skin to land on. Savage snarls and rattling chains emanated from a chamber just inside the cave entrance, echoing off the stone walls.

Wolves.