The grasses and brambles at the edge of the forest soon gave way to a harder and dustier path, with small stones and ridges on the rocks making footing just as treacherous as the roots and low branches of the forest before.

Zero led the group quickly down the slope aiming for the first of the escarpments that he could see. The moon was rising and its gibbous shine would soon betray their shapes against the horizon if they were not careful. He was glad to be free of the trees and brambles clutching and pawing at his clothes, snaring and tearing where it could. Out here in the wider air he felt more invigorated, less claustrophobic, and, as long as he could reach into and disappear within the shadows, safe.

Within minutes he broke into the first of the depressions, pushing past one of the odd gnarled trees, and onto the slippery scree within. Khalin joined him not long after, his sturdier boots crushing some of the stones and sending a flurry of them down the slope with a rattle.

Zero stared back at the dwarf with a scowl and patiently waited for the others.

‘We’ll skip from depression to depression,’ whispered the rogue when they were all present. ‘Keep out of the bright moonlight and for Avandra’s sake, don’ make such a racket. As long as we’re quiet, we should be able to keep moving quite quickly.’

The others nodded back, their breath rising before them in bright clouds in the starlight.

The cool and chill of the evening turned to a dedicated cold as they pressed along and every now and then Khalin couldn’t help thinking whether he’d made a mistake in deciding to plough on through the night.

They were making good progress, however, spurred on by Zero’s excellent sense of shdaow. The rogue bounded from scree to scree, quite athletically for one that appeared to be of a rotund nature. Perhaps the days of marching and fighting had made him a leaner figure and he was now free to move without his normal surplus baggage. His face was glowing a healthy red, however, covered with beads of sweat that glistened in the moonlight and threatened to freeze into tiny diamonds in the cold night air.

The rogue kept a generally northern route as best he could, with the occasional small detour to favour the best of the shadow. Khalin was pleased — they were making much better time than they would have if they had travelled by day.

At the top of the next bluff Zero stopped and scanned the horizon, looking for the best route to take them back into hiding. He was amazed how dark it was out here — no signs of civilisation, no streetlights or fires. Just the bright stars and the moon to guide them and light their way.

To the northeast he could see the mountains, their snow-capped peaks sparkling with the white light from the moon. To the west, back towards Blackengorge, was only endless hills rolling into darkness.

With a shrug he moved on, choosing his path and beckoning the others to follow quickly.

He meandered across to the northeast, in the directions of the mountain to find the next safe depression, his footsteps muffled with care, the others following suit as best they could. He ducked down when he dropped into the hollow, waiting for the others.

‘Let’s take a quick rest?’ he asked, puffing his cheeks. ‘No sense in tiring ourselves out, eh?’

Khalin was about to disagree but thought better of it, letting the rogue have a break. Kireth didn’t appear to be tired, or wasn’t showing it which was more likely. Beltak was breathing hard. Tradden was a little red in the face, but not overly so, and would probably keep going until he dropped if he was asked to. No, a little break would be fine.

They took fifteen minutes, just long enough for Zero to sip a little wine and get another wind. Then they were up and off again, marching carefully over the loose stones of any scree and then darting quickly when they needed to, avoiding time out in the open against the moonlit sky.

Zero kept up the pace and the winding, yet effective, route as the moon climbed in the sky. They stopped only once, when a screech of an animal sounded somewhere in the distance. They’d all frozen in an instant, pricking their ears and trying to make out from where the sound had come. But, in the echoes made by the many depressions it was hard to tell, so they moved on, cautiously as always.

The night air grew colder as they continued and the sweat on their brows began to freeze in patches. Khalin’s beard grew slivers of white from frost where his sweat ran but the best thing to do was to press on.

Here and there the thin, gnarled trees grew in small clumps. Zero tried to avoid them where he could, deciding that he didn’t particularly like the look of them, but every now and then had to use them to keep the group hidden from sight.

As they marched on they came to a tricky section of one of the depressions and decided to take the lower route rather than cross the complex scree. The rocks here weren’t sprayed with the small scree stones and seemed to give a strange echo as the moved across.

Then, without any real warning, the stone floor seemed to give way under Tradden’s steps.

The young fighter managed to roll out of the way before he twisted his ankle in the hole that formed. There was the faint sound of stones falling and scraping the ground far below and a small crack, almost like that of one on ice, split the rock near them for several feet.

Tradden puffed out his cheeks, getting up slowly and dusting himself down.

‘Let’s be more careful,’ said Khalin softly. ‘It must be midnight now,’ he continued looking up at the moon. ‘We’ll get near the rise of this hollow and take another break. Double check that ankle of yours, Tradden, just in case.’

They moved up quickly, but not too quickly that they didn’t watch their step.

After another short break they moved on, Zero taking a little more care in their path that they kept to the higher ground where they could. However, the going began to get more difficult. The rocks and inclines were larger and sharper and it wasn’t just once that one of the group shouted out as they grazed their knee or hand and had to be hissed at to be quiet by the others.

The cold also took its toll, starting to numb hands and feet, making the routes harder to follow without making any noise.

Zero did his best to keep the route bearable for them, though, picking his way carefully at each rise, trying to keep the beeline for the north and taking bearings from the stars and the bleak grey and white presence of the mountains to their right.

The cold continued to opress the group as they marched on. Their speed slowed somewhat as they took more breaks, rubbing their arms and their legs trying to keep the blod circulating, and adjusting their cloaks and hoods to keep the worst of the chill away from their faces.

Zero did his best to keep a straighter line, though, hoping to get close to their destination as soon as he could in the hope that there may be some form of shelter before they had to explore whatever this Mouth of the Sleeper turned out to be.

His haste took him low down on one of the scree slopes, trying his best to stay away from the high ridges and been seen against the moonlight. It was Khalin that slipped, falling over and bashing his shield against the rocks with a clang. It drew a hiss of fury from Kireth that stopped in the mage’s throat almost as quickly as it started as a low rumbled echoed down from the top of the slope.

Both Tradden and Zero managed to leap out of the way as rocks came tumbling down the slope, only being struck by one or two of the flying missiles. The others were less lucky, the sharp edges of the stones battering into them, grazing and cutting them, drawing thin lines of blood in many places.

When the dust settled the Krakens tried to make as little noise as they could, despite their wounds, listening out intently for any further rumbles or even other noises from afar that would indicate they had been discovered. They lay still for a good few minutes, only rubbing their sore and cold limbs, until they felt confident that they could hear nothing out in the wilderness.

Tentatively they stood and limped to one side of the rockfall.

Beltak began immediately to see to their wounds, binding and wrapping the simple ones, uttering soothing words of prayer to Pelor over the larger of the gashes and bruises.

As the scribe performed his ministrations, however, a thick blanket of fog slowly rolled into the hollow, stretching up from the stony floor as high as Khalin’s knee. It brought a freezing chill that gnawed at their bones.

‘We need to keep moving,’ Khalin chattered with distrust at the fog. ‘Keep the blood circulating in your feet and don’t stand still for too long. We’re over halfway, we might even be able to see some signs of this “Mouth” anytime soon.’

With the swirling fog clinging to their aching legs, they set off once more.

The pair hurried forwards, joining the others, and shepherding them along. Judging by the moon and stars Khalin guessed it would be another two or three hours before dawn, and wanted to get at close to their destination before then as he could.

Blustering past Beltak and Kireth he began to catch up with Zero, who was once again leading them on a winding path through the sharp hills.

The rogue made fleet of foot, but was also sure of his path, this time, picking a solid route across the stony floor, skulking in the shadows away from the moonlight where he could.

Despite the cold fog clinging to their legs the group managed to keep moving, ducking from hollow to hollow, slipping and sliding on the scree. Not once did they hear any movement out across the marches, not any signs of light or life. The stars spiralled in the sky and the moon started to sink within its arc.

A pale pink glow began to surround the peaks of the grey and white mountains to the east, a bank of cloud illuminated in the sky behind them, inching inexorably towards them on the gentle easterly breeze. It would not be long before dawn spread its fingers across the pock-marked landscape.

Khalin’s enthusiasm kept up, however, extolling the groups’ virtues at every opportunity, whispering words of encouragement to keep them going. He kept glancing out to the east, though, marvelling both at the mountains and the radiance that the growing spread of dawn played out before it.

At the bottom of a hollow, out of the soft light of the dawn, they took a short break, catching their breath and sipping from their waterskins, whilst Zero continued to the top of the ridge to plan their route ahead.

Suddenly the rogue slid back down the slope, agitated and seemingly excited at the same time, his arm pointing back up the slope and to the north.

‘A small wood up ahead,’ he hissed through chattering teeth. ‘Not sure if its where we are looking for, or just a good place for shelter.’ He rubbed his hands together to try to get some warmth into them. ‘Looks cold, though, exposed on the top of one of the hills, plenty of frost up there.’

Following Khalin’s lead the group climbed to the top of the hollow, scampering over the scree as silently as they could and headed along the ridges in the direction of the small wood.

The first fingers of warmth from a rising sun draped across them as they ran casting long fingers of shadow across the rocks. Kireth’s staff scraped the rocks a number of times, each time accompanied by a scowl from Zero, but the group made good progress across to the wood without any perceived incident.

As the group approached the wood they could see the trees were the same gnarly and windswept ones they had seen all along the Stonemarch. Others had been on their own, perhaps in clumps of two or three, but these were the first they had seen in such great numbers together.

Khalin judged the size of the wood as he approached, probably two or three hundred yards across and possibly as deep as far as he could see. A good dozen acres at least. The trees looked to be leaning to the left as they approached, pointing towards the west, and all were covered with a thin film of frost and ice.

The group shuddered with the cold as they plunged into the treeline and out of the sun, stopping and gathering their breath, trying to keep their panting under control and low in volume.

Kireth’s nose wrinkled and he looked over at Zero. With a whisper he raised a questioning eyebrow at the rogue. ‘Burning?’

The rogue smelled the air and a warm grin spread over his face. He shook his head softly and looked at Kireth. ‘Tobacco,’ he whispered back, and put his finger to his lips for the rest of the group to see.

As Zero moved slowly through the densely packed trees the temperature dropped once more. Where there had been a light dusting of frost as its outer reaches, sparkling in the first light of day, within the trees, shrouded from the sun, lay a blanket of pearl-white snow. The rogue shivered.

Within only a few strides he lost sight and sound of his companions, the gnarled trees and tangled thickets forming a close barrier and making the going slow. The wood, perhaps the Coilwood of the dead hobgoblin’s answers, was silent as only a snowshrouded forest could be. At the thought of the hobgoblin, its blank eyes and silver-foaming mouth, the rogue shivered again. The closeness of the trees and the insufferable quiet of the wood began to creep him out, branches becoming hands of the hobgoblin, reaching out to grab him.

Zero kept a slow but steady amble, barely able to suppress the crunch of his own footsteps in the snow, the crack of dry branches he pushed out of the way, and the occasional rustle of snow falling from the barren trees.

He kept stopping to sniff the air, to sense if the smell of the pipe-weed was getting stronger or fainter.

It was hard to tell, there was still a faint odour in the air, but he wasn’t sure if it was any stronger or not. He’d only come a few dozen yards at the most, but he felt as though he were in another world, silent, cold and sterile. There were no sounds of animals, no signs of tracks, and even the trees that blocked his way barely looked as though they were alive. Getting anywhere in this wood without finding a trail or passage would take forever.

Then, almost taking him by surprise he came to a gap in the treeline, almost spilling out into the open air. Perhaps only half a dozen yards across, the passage ran east to west, winding around to the north slowly somewhere to the west in a sharp but constant curve, the same to the east. The treeline stood remorseless again to the north, slowly rising on a shallow hill.

Feeling exposed he quickly turned back where he came and darted back into the trees, banging against one of the trunks in his haste. He missed cutting his head by a whisker — a rusted axe-head, its shaft long ago rotted, sat embedded in the tree, the milky white crust of a shattered skull still pinned against the gnarled bark.

Zero gasped a freezing lung of air, stifling a yelp, and made his way as quickly as he could back to the rest of the group.

It wasn’t long before Tradden reached the break in the trees and moved cautiously to the edge. A root caught him out, however, encircling around his foot, and he plunged forwards into the open air rolling into the thin blanket of snow.

Turning back he could see the others coming to the edge and they were all looking down at the ‘root’. It was a pale white. A broken ribcage hidden beneath the snow.

Tradden stared back at the obstacle that had tripped him and left him sprawled on the floor, its shape and form not obvious from his current position.

It looked like an old animal carcass and he chastised himself for being so clumsy before starting to stand.

It was harder than he thought, the ground flat and slippy under the snow, his feet deciding not to quite obey their master’s orders. With a few ungainly movements he found himself on firmer ground, but at the other side of the natural break, at the edge of the next set of gnarled trees.

Kireth prodded the edge of the ribcage with his staff with a disdainful sniff.

Kireth’s eyebrows raised as the bones turned over in the snow and he swiftly knelt down and grabbed something with his own bony hand.

Before the others could question the mage they heard Tradden reaching the other side of the break with a thud and a scrape. Across at the other side the young fighter stared back at them with a sheepish look.

‘Slippy!’ he hissed over the gap, before sniffing and looking over his shoulder.

Eyes were drawn to the gap, curving around from the east and the west, and the drifts of snow that Tradden had pushed out of the way with his fall.

A soft blue sheen glimmered faintly in the sunlight afforded by the break in the trees.

‘Ice?’ questioned Beltak in hushed tones. ‘A frozen river, perhaps,’ replied Zero looking out to the east and back up to the west.

From across the break the others could see Tradden gesticulating wildly, pointing in towards the trees at his side.

The ground went slightly down into the break and Khalin took it slowly before levelling out. Underfoot was slippy and more than once Khalin nearly lost his footing. Inch by inch he started to make his way across with the shaft of the hammer propping him up.

In an instant the warlord’s legs were in the air and he was airborne for a moment, his feet slipping out from under him and he clawed for something to grab. He came down on his chest as he twisted over, cracking the ice below him with a slam of his hammer and driving the snow away with his body.

Below him the blue-white sheen of ice was stark and clear, small bubbles rising to the underside of the crust in response to the dwarf’s inadvertent lunge. He stared down, thankful that the ice hadn’t broken.

Khalin’s face went white and he scrambled up as quickly as he could, arms and legs flailing from side to side. He half-ran, half-slid to the far bank near Tradden, breathing heavily and sporting a frosting film of sweat upon his pallid face.

The staff kept Kireth on his feet more than once, but quickly the mage was across the span, joining Khalin and Tradden with a scowl.

The rogue was light-footed and sure of his steps, turning back to face Beltak when he was halfway across, motioning the scribe to follow him. He then continued his slow journey across, bounding up onto the far bank to meet the others with a smile.

‘What’s all the fuss and arm waving about, then?’ he scowled, as he watched Beltak step onto the snow and ice.

The scribe was not quite as sure as Zero and was much slowly in stepping down onto the ice. With his heavy chain mail, shield and pack he was a little unsteady and had to sway and stagger at points to keep upright.

Beltak managed to keep his feet, though, and was nearly across when there was a creak and a groan from the surface below and a long crack. Beltak hurried quickly to the bank and scrambled up to the others with a sheepish grin.

‘Just in time, it seems,’ he whispered, looking at Khalin’s still-pale face.

The trees were just as twisted and gnarled at this side of the break, low hanging branches causing the rogue a number of problems. The snow was treacherous underfoot and more than once Zero felt a crunch that was more than just that of the snow but declined to look down.

Navigating the close trees was difficult, the way the lurched to one side was unnerving and made it a twisting trail to move through, slow going at best. Swinging around one of the boughs his shin went into something hard and he cursed aloud, betraying his silence up until then. He bent down to rub his leg and his hand came away wet and warm with blood. At his feet was an old shield, rusted down to a sharp edge.

He was about to curse once more when he heard the faint call of voices, probably from the north, although it was hard to tell in the maze of the trees. A call or two, guttural and low. The smell of burning grew.

He limped forwards as quietly as he could and spotted another break in the trees. This time he kept back, away from the edge and peered desperately out through the knotted branches across the break.

Ahead in the break the dawning sun glimmered off ice. Beyond there was a small trail in the trees, heading up a slope towards some unseen crest. Along the trail were a number of humanoid creatures, orcs Zero thought, looking as if they had been woken from some reverie and darting about to make themselves ready. The rogue cursed his shout from before.

To one side of the trail, slightly up the hill was a large wooden device made from stout timber, perhaps as tall as one of the orcs itself. Next to it was a brazier, burning a glorious orange and casting a pale cloud of swirling smoke. Two of the orcs stood near the device, one picking up what appeared to be a large rock the same size as its head, the other holding a lit torch.

The other orcs were preparing themselves with axes, as if expecting an attack, directed by a large hobgoblin. To this brute’s side stood another hobgoblin with a gnarled staff matching the trees of the wood and a small red drake, similar to the ones they had met before in the ruined keep and the dragin burial ground.

Zero slunk back a little, waiting for the others to catch up and hope they were quieter than he.

Although the group tried to stay quiet the wood and undergrowth did not let them. Khalin stamped on a branch under the snow and in a moment’s concentration lost by Kireth hissing at the dwarf, the mage managed to stumble himself, dropping to his knee in the freezing snow and howling as he drew a long cut against a rusting metal helm.

As Khalin turned back to hiss back at the mage himself he realised he had broken through into the gap between the trees. The moment for observation was too late as a cry came up from the far bank with the sound of ropes being drawn taut and the creak of wood.