It had been a long time since Ronan had eaten such a meal. The aroma of fried meat had roused him from bed and brought a rumble from his stomach that clearly spoke that it had been neglected such luxury. Breakfast usually consisted of cold bread and lukewarm milk. He’d made sure to tell her twice what good food it was and complimented her on the seasoning. At first she’d seemed shocked, but by the end of the meal, she only smiled at his efforts to show appreciation.

If Keegan was impressed, he said nothing. Instead, he sat down and began piling food on his plate. Ronan imagined from the size of him, he would demolish a good bit of what was left. He was thankful. Ronan was never one who approved of waste.

“Since none of you have ever been to Merisgale, I feel obligated to tell you this will not be an easy trek,” Keegan spoke around a mouthful of boar. “There are places of magic that we must pass through or near. You must always be on guard. And then there is Sledgewood and River Blanch.”

“River Blanch,” Ula echoed in a whisper that trembled through the air like a hollowing note in a winter wind. “I’ve been that way before. Many years ago. I’d hoped I’d never have to walk that way again.”

“Why?” Arien leaned toward the witch when she sat down heavily at the table. Her fingers held a stone that she ran her thumb back and forth over. Ronan wondered if it was a nervous movement or another secret spell.

“Not much frightens me. That water scared me so I felt I would die.” Ula bowed her head causing Ronan to frown. Maybe that was before she knew of rat feet and mule manure.

“It is one of most difficult parts of the journey.” Keegan nodded in agreement. “It only takes fifteen minutes to cross but it feels like…”