The path Mossa took, on the other side of the river, was rocky, twisty, and bumpy. He hoped they had orders to move at a regulated pace. He thought he could make it. He could get there close to the same time they did. There was plenty of fresh water to his left and he knew a few Seedwind drops on this side of the Rainroot that should provide him with provisions. But he knew he was going to miss his slinger when it came time to rest for the night—and he wasn’t sure he had time to be hunting with his shortsharp or cudgel.
count me in
thanks