Menion nodded thoughtfully and lay back again. Flick cleared his throat.

“What’s the difference? They got us out of that dismal swamp, didn’t they?”

Menion glanced sharply at Flick and shrugged.

“It might be helpful to know when we can count on that kind of support, don’t you think?” He breathed deeply and clasped his hands behind his head, his keen gaze shifting to the fire at his feet. Flick stirred uneasily across from him, glancing from Menion to his brother and back again. Shea said nothing, his gaze focused on some imaginary point overhead.

Long moments passed before the highlander spoke again.

“Well, at least we’ve made it this far,” he declared cheerfully. “Now for the next leg of the trip!”

He sat up and began to sketch a quick map of the area in the dry earth. Shea and Flick sat up with him and watched quietly.

“Here we are,” Menion pointed to a spot on the dirt map representing the fringe of the Black Oaks. “At least that’s where I think we are,” he added quickly. “To the north is the Mist Marsh and farther north of that the Rainbow Lake, out of which runs the Silver River east to the Anar Forests. Our best bet is to travel north tomorrow until we reach the edge of the Mist Marsh. Then we’ll skirt the edge of the swamp,” he traced a long line, “and come out on the other side of the Black Oaks. From there, we can travel due north until we run into the Silver River, and that should get us safely to the Anar.”

He paused and looked over at the other two. Neither seemed to be happy with the plan.

“What’s the matter?” he asked in bewilderment. “The plan is designed to get us past the Black Oaks without forcing us to go directly through them, which was the cause of all the trouble the last time we were here. Don’t forget those wolves are still in there somewhere!”

Shea nodded slowly and frowned.

“It’s not the general plan,” he began hesitantly, “but we’ve heard tales of the Mist Marsh…”

Menion clapped his hand to his forehead in amazement.

“Oh, no! Not the old wives’ tale about a Mist Wraith that lurks on the edges of the marsh waiting to devour stray travelers? Don’t tell me you believe that!”

“That’s fine, coming from you,” Flick blazed up angrily. “I suppose you’ve forgotten who it was that told us how safe the Black Oaks were just before that last trip!”

“All right,” soothed the lean hunter. “I’m not saying that this is a safe part of the country and that some very strange creatures don’t inhabit these woods. But no one has ever seen this so-called creature of the marsh, and we have seen the wolves. Which do you choose?”

“I suppose that your plan is the best one,” interjected Shea hastily. “But I would prefer it if we could cut as far east as possible while traveling through the forest to avoid as much of the Mist Marsh as possible.”