Three days passed.
Redd, still pale but no longer swaying with fever, finally stepped down from the carriage. His footing was shaky at first, like a man waking from a long, fevered dream, but with each hour he seemed to remember how his limbs moved. The feral light behind his eyes hadn't dulled, it had merely gone quiet.
Along their route, bands of monsters emerged now and again. Packs of goblins, mewling in their high-pitched chatter before being cleaved apart in seconds. Kobolds scrambled out of the underbrush, only to vanish in clouds of crimson mist as Gorak or Robin laid into them. A pair of hungry lizardmen tried their luck along the bend of a dried riverbed, Ludwig downed them both before the second had time to shriek.
The battles were short. Too short. And that, more than anything, made them weary.
And never did Titania even move a muscle. She only watched, but her eyes were focused heavily on Ludwig.
"What?" he asked as he noticed her piercing gaze.
