Braedo Hunts-like-Owl smiled as he rode along. The weather was overcast and periodically a drizzle of rain would sweep over Sandru’s caravan. The Varisian crew had just finished singing The Seven Wagons of Leazac, a funny bawdy song of juggled goods and girlfriends that still caused laughter to echo in the gloom. The countryside, even shrouded in mist, lay open and inviting. Getting underway and travelling called to Braedo’s heart and soul, the cultures of his birth and adopted families. He’d already been off scouting ahead seeing elk leap away into the wild and eagles cry overhead as they hunted; both excellent omens. The whole thing had brought contentment to Braedo, even the likely impending danger and the challenge of combat had roused his Shoanti sensibilities.
However, it wasn’t all this that had brought the smile to his face but rather it had come from watching Koya. Since leaving Sandpoint and heading out for the unknown Koya had steadily lost her air of sadness and malaise. She was embracing the idea of new places and unexpected opportunities that travelling promised. Every stone, every waystation, every copse of trees or gully of stone or churning brook was new and Koya took comfort and delight in it, often reciting prayers to Desna in response or starting a new round of Varisian travelling songs or stories.
They had a long way to go and likely many hard days of bad weather and bad encounters on the road but all that just made days like this all the sweeter; and Braedo seeing his ni-Ama happy after so many years of caring for her dying mother and feeling lost and trapped in Sandpoint made it all even better.