Those were all the positive things. Also positive—since the night he had had that dream of hunting something, all of his fears, while still in the back of his mind, seemed to have been pushed to the back of his mind. He had no good reason to feel so—so trusting. Well, other than that Dallen kept telling him that he could and should be. But it didn’t seem to matter that he had no reason for feeling this way; it even felt a bit as if he was dreaming while wide awake. As a consequence, he was feeling good; a sort of drowsy contentment, like the aftermath of one of those once-a-year feeds when he was full and warm and allowing himself the incredible luxury of not thinking about the next day. And maybe that was stupid, but right now, it didn’t matter.

Herald Jakyr, on the other hand, looked as if he was fretting enough for both of them. It seemed he was more worried about the weather than about Mags falling off, and as they got packs strapped to the two Companions, it seemed to Mags that he was rightly concerned. Mags didn’t like the way the sky looked, or the air felt. It was a little too damp, the sun a little too bright, and yet there was the sense that there was something lurking just over the horizon. He was not weather-wise, but it felt as if there was a storm coming.

Herald Jakyr had wanted to be off at dawn, and when they finally set off down the road, with as much stuffed into the bulging packs on both Companions as they could easily carry, the sun was still touching the horizon. And the pace that Jakyr set was easily as hard as anyone trying to outrun a storm could want. Very shortly, Mags had his hands full, so to speak, with thinking about his riding. He didn’t have attention to devote to anything else.

Dallen did his best to spare his rider, but Jakyr did not stick to the road for very long, and Mags hung on grimly to the pommel of the saddle as the Companions followed tracks only Jakyr could see, up and down the hillsides, leaping frozen streams and bouncing over fallen trees. They cut right across farmers’ fields more than once, sometimes startling grazing livestock. But the wind was picking up by midmorning, and it whined in the uppermost branches of the trees with a tone that Mags knew well. There definitely was a storm bearing down on them.