Beyond the Safe Road

Beyond The Safe Road

Morning came the same way it always did in Greyhollow. Mist hung low as Zio pushed open the workshop door. Cold air followed him inside, carrying the scent of damp earth before it gave way to the smell of iron and dry wood.

The forge had not been lit. His footsteps were the only sound across the packed dirt floor. Trod was already there. He stood before the storage rack, slowly shifting several metal bars with deliberate care. His hand stopped at an empty space.

“We're out of this one,” he murmured.

Zio stepped closer and immediately recognized the shape.

“We still have the others,” Zio said.

“Not enough,” Trod replied. He closed the rack and tapped it once before turning around.

“We're heading to Ravenhold,” he said.

Zio said nothing. He simply nodded when he heard the name.

Trod walked out of the workshop toward the shed where the horse and cart were kept, with Zio following behind him. Trod harnessed the horse to the cart.

“Load those onto the cart,” he pointed toward a stack of empty wooden crates. Without a word, Zio lifted the crates.

Trod checked every rope, making sure the cargo was secured before they departed. He then glanced at Zio.

“Bring your knife and your arrows too.”

Zio turned toward the house to retrieve his weapons. The cart was pulled out, and the shed doors were closed behind them.

Trod climbed onto the driver's seat while Zio sat along the side of the cart, leaning his back against one of the wooden crates. The cart began to move.

Greyhollow had not fully awakened when the wheels started to turn. The workshop slowly faded behind them.

The road through Greyhollow looked the same as it always had. The ground beneath the wheels was firm, marked by old wagon tracks pressed deep into the earth. It was wide enough for two carts to pass without slowing.

The morning air remained cold. The horse's breath lingered for a moment before fading away. Dew still clung to the leaves of the trees lining the roadside. They continued south.

Little by little, Greyhollow disappeared behind them.

***

They traveled without filling the silence with conversation. Trod spoke only through the reins, giving them short, practiced tugs to guide the cart along the road.

As the sun climbed higher, the landscape around them gradually began to change.

The open grasslands gave way to tall shrubs, while the trees grew thicker with every mile. Birdsong came and went. The steady hum of insects filled the quiet between them.

From time to time, they stopped to water the horse and eat before setting off again. Inside the cart, Zio occasionally adjusted his position as the wooden crates shifted with the constant vibration rolling up from the wheels.

“Take the bread.”

Without looking back, Trod held out a hand. Zio picked up the wrapped loaf from inside the cart and handed it over.

“You eat too.”

Zio nodded before quietly taking a piece for himself. Trod kept one hand on the reins while eating with the other.

By the time the sun had begun its slow descent toward the west, Greyhollow had long since disappeared behind them.

Trod guided the cart off the road, far enough to leave the path clear for anyone passing through. He climbed down.

“We're spending the night here. Gather some firewood.”

Zio stepped off the cart and walked beneath the nearby trees. He gathered fallen branches one by one until he had a small bundle in his arms.

Meanwhile, Trod unloaded two worn tarps from the cart to use as bedding.

The last traces of sunlight disappeared beyond the horizon. Night slowly settled over the forest.

***

A small fire crackled quietly, just enough to keep the cold from settling too deeply into the night. Its gentle glow illuminated the space around them.

Trod sat with his back against the trunk of a tree, his eyes half closed. Across from him, Zio inspected his arrows one by one. His thumb ran along each wooden shaft with practiced care. When he felt a slight bend in one of them, he quietly set it aside. The campfire crackled softly between them.

“Get some sleep,” Trod said.

Zio remained silent. His gaze drifted south into the darkness.

“How much farther?”

“Nine or ten days.”

Zio placed the arrows beside him before lying down on the tarp.

For a moment, he looked up at the night sky. Then he slowly closed his eyes.

***

They were awake before the sun rose. The horse was harnessed to the cart once more. The tarps were rolled up. Aside from the cold ashes of last night's campfire, they left nothing behind.

Then they continued south. The days settled into the same routine. They traveled from sunrise until nightfall.

When darkness came, they stopped to make camp. When morning returned, they packed their belongings and set out again. Day after day, the road stretched farther ahead.

***

Halfway through their journey, the road carried them deeper into the forest.

The trees stood closer together now, their canopies overlapping high above. Even so, enough sunlight still filtered through to reach the ground. The road itself remained clear. It looked well traveled.

Zio glanced from one side of the road to the other, quietly observing his surroundings.

Large tracks scarred the edges of the path, dragging through the soil. They weren't wagon tracks. They weren't human footprints either. Several bushes had been crushed flat. He said nothing.

Not long afterward, Trod slowed the horse to a stop. He climbed down from the cart and crouched beside the road, brushing aside a layer of dry leaves with two fingers.

“That's strange,” he murmured.

Zio stayed where he was. Still crouching, Trod studied a low branch nearby. It had been snapped in half. It wasn't a clean break. Nor did it look like the work of the wind. And it was far too high for a small animal to have caused it.

The forest remained silent. No movement. No beating wings. Only the wind slipping through the leaves.

Trod rose to his feet. His eyes moved from the trees to the road ahead.

“We're moving.”

Zio gave a quiet nod. Without thinking, he adjusted the bow resting across his back.

The cart rolled forward once more, its wheels creaking softly over the road. Neither of them spoke.

...

Several minutes passed. Then something moved inside the forest. It wasn't a roar.

Something heavier.

A body dragged its way through the undergrowth.

Leaves rustled. Branches snapped one after another.

Trod stopped the cart without a word. His hand was already wrapped around the handle of his axe.

The bushes beside the road split apart. A creature stepped into view. Its dark skin glistened as though it had just emerged from the rain. Its eyes didn't dart wildly. They didn't glow.

Zio drew a short breath. The creature stood at the edge of the road. Trod didn't wait. He rushed forward in a low stance, his axe raised.

The creature lunged. Its jaws spread wide as its massive body burst forward with surprising speed.

The ground shook beneath its weight.

Zio drew an arrow. From atop the cart, he aimed low. He released the instant the creature turned.

The arrow struck its foreleg. It didn't sink deep, but it was enough. The creature stumbled.

Trod closed the distance. His axe crashed into the creature's back.

Its thick hide absorbed much of the blow, yet dark blood still flowed from the wound, slow and heavy.

The creature spun. Its tail swept across the road, slamming into the side of the cart.

Zio jumped clear. He nearly lost his footing before grabbing hold of the cart to keep it from tipping over. The horse let out a frightened whinny.

Trod attacked again. This time, the strike landed even harder.

Behind the creature's chest, a faint point of light flickered. Then it slowly faded.

The creature let out a short, low cry. It wasn't a scream. One of its foreclaws shot toward Trod.

He raised his axe to block, but the attack came a fraction too quickly. The claw scraped across his arm. Ignoring the wound, Trod swung again.

His axe smashed toward the creature's face. The impact forced it backward.

For a brief moment, it stood completely still.

Then it turned and fled. Its massive body crashed through the bushes before disappearing among the trees, leaving broken branches scattered in its wake. Silence returned to the forest.

Zio remained where he stood. His breathing had grown sharper.

Trod still held his axe at the ready, his eyes fixed on the direction the creature had escaped. Only after the sound of breaking branches had completely faded did he lower the weapon.

Zio said nothing. His eyes swept across the trees, the ground, and the back of the cart.

Little by little, the leaves settled once more. Dark blood stained the edge of the road.

Trod let out a slow breath and rolled his shoulder. A shallow scratch marked his arm. He walked back toward the cart. It had shifted during the fight. One of the ropes had come loose.

Zio retied it, pulling the knot tight until it locked firmly into place. Trod wiped the blood from his axe with a piece of cloth before sliding it back into place.

For another moment, neither of them moved. They simply listened as the forest gradually found its rhythm again.

Then Trod straightened the cart and climbed back onto the driver's seat. Zio returned to his place beside the crates.

"Shouldn't be on this road," Trod said quietly. Zio remained silent.

The cart began moving once again. The steady creak of its wheels returned. From then on, every sound beyond the bushes drew their attention. They listened a little longer each time before continuing on.

Zio found himself noticing things he would once have passed without a second glance.

Late in the afternoon, they passed a small caravan traveling in the opposite direction.

Both carts slowed as they approached each other. One of the men noticed the fresh scrape marks running along the side of Trod's cart.

“Sir, wait a moment.”

Trod pulled on the reins, bringing the cart to a stop.

“Is the road ahead safe?” the man asked.

Trod was silent for a moment.

“So far.”

The man's eyes drifted back to the damaged cart before briefly glancing at Zio.

“But don't stray far from your weapons.”

The man nodded. Soon, the caravan continued on its way.

As they passed one another, the horses unconsciously drew a little closer together.

Then the distance between them slowly widened. Trod's cart rolled forward once more.

***

Night came as it always did. The campfire was kept small. Before turning in, Zio checked every knot securing the cargo. His hand ran along the rim of each wheel before he finally lay down on the tarp.

The sky looked the same. The stars remained still. Nothing seemed different.

On the final morning of their journey, the road began to slope downhill. The trees gradually thinned, allowing sunlight to spread more freely across the ground.

The road beneath the wheels grew firmer, hardened by constant traffic rather than age. A little farther ahead, the dirt road met a stone-paved one at a crossroads.

Beyond it, cutting through the thinning morning mist, a long line stretched across the horizon. Zio looked ahead.

The closer they came, the more the shape emerged from the fading mist. Long stone walls surrounded something far larger than Greyhollow.

Small watchtowers stood at regular intervals along the walls. Voices carried faintly on the wind. Then the gate came into view. It stood open.

A steady stream of people passed through without pause.

Merchants. Guards. Travelers.

Ravenhold stood before them.

Without stopping, they guided the cart into the flow of people entering the city.