I Will Be the Greatest Knight

Rather than being able to find comfort in the lee of trees, the switchbacks were an entirely different form of camping—or rather, survival, considering being cold could mean death.

"It will be slow from this point forward," Irene warned her husband. "Just as during winterization, it’s too dangerous to ride horses up these rocky areas, but Sammy successfully followed me once." She turned to pat her horse. "He can do it again."

They had to speak loudly to communicate with one another. Once they had gotten out of the mist because it had moved higher in the atmosphere and was replaced with a cloudy day, they were faced with winds. These areas were bare and rocky as compared to the lower elevations of foothills. It was obvious why trees couldn’t grow here.

It was mundane and all the same with every step, but the elevation was steep as reflected in the breathing of the travelers. Once they left the view of Chemois, they were surrounded by rocks. If the clouds disappeared, there was only grey to see except for the two travelers, their belongings, and both of the light brown horses.

Luckily, there was no danger of monsters in this area. There weren’t caves in these areas. They could let their guards down in that respect while they focused on making the most educated decision of where to set their boots and guide their horses next.

"You did this all by yourself as a teenager?" Henry asked in disbelief as they got to a point where they could take a break.

All they had was one piece of jerky each, and they split a small loaf of bread. Conversation would distract their stomachs that were in protest of having to get used to eating less than usual.

They both were in agreement to use as little jerky as possible. It should only be for emergencies. Their dried foods would be used more because they could replenish in the Sunstoian North where everything was preserved year-round.

Despite the fact that reflecting on that time reminded Irene that the trip north had, in fact, been unbelievably lonely, she still grinned at Henry’s questioning as she pulled off her face scarf to eat the meager meal.

"I had a good cause pushing me forward," she explained. "As I went on, I saw evidence of others having used this very pass, knowing it was likely my family because the map that was written, tracing this trail, was written by my grandmother. Every evening, I tried to read a Sunstoian children’s book so that I could have a better grasp of the basics of the language." Her eyes drifted as she recalled something else. "I even brought with me a journal that my grandmother wrote during her travels. It helped me realize the trek I was taking was easier than hers."

It seemed he would never cease to be amazed by his wife. With every word, he was more impressed by her. While he knew that he was lucky to be able to stand at her side at all, she sweetened the deal every moment.

"How so?" Henry wondered after slowly chewing some jerky. "She would be more used to a harsh environment, correct?"

Irene shook her head.

"She had two small children with her when she traveled south," Irene explained. "I imagine my walk felt like a flounce through a field of flowers compared to what she faced."

Henry nodded in understanding.

"You’ve told me about visiting your grandfather’s grave," Henry recalled. "I wish we could go that far north to pay our respects. Perhaps one day."

A warm smile pulled at Irene’s lips. "One day," she echoed. "When there isn’t the threat of a wyrm. A part of me hopes Sylaron was wrong."

They shared a bit of water with one another before adding more snow to their waterskins and putting them between a layer of wool and armor so that it wouldn’t cause them to get cold, but it would melt. To drink snowmelt directly could make them too cold. It was important they didn’t get too cold.

"Press on?" Henry questioned.

"Let’s go," Irene responded with a nod.

It was more of the same—as would be the next week or two of their journey.

There was the occasional slip as they went on, whether it was a horse or one of the knights. The snow could be misleading about what was underneath. There would also sometimes be unforeseen patches of ice. There were obstacles all around.

Surprisingly early, Henry was surprised when he heard Irene say, "We need to find somewhere flat to stay soon and out of the wind. We will have to use a tent tonight, and neither one of us wants it to float away as we sleep."

Fortunately, it was only one switchback more before they found a place suitable. It was strange to simply drop everything and sleep directly on the trail once they made it to a more covered place, but there was almost complete certainty that they would not meet another on the trail unless it was an animal.

On flat rocks and against more rocks, they set up a meager camp. The horses were fed oats and occasionally snacked on grasses. The only firewood they used was what Irene had collected in the first forest.

Henry had never seen her so strict in her insistence that they not use supplies, but he was understanding. There truly was a lot of nothing in this place.

Finally able to sit down, the two of them were side by side next to the fire. For a while, all they had was their thoughts as they fell to silence.

For a while, there was only the sound of wind and wood crackling before Henry heard Irene start going through one of her packs.

"I don’t know why I was nervous to share this with you," she began. "But I wrote a journal myself on this trip so that I would feel less lonely. My father did the same and gave it to my mother. I never thought I would have someone to give it to, but now that I do... I mean, only if you want it. I can’t imagine what’s written there is very interesting."

Warmth spread through Henry’s chest because she genuinely seemed nervous as she rambled.

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