Lindsay
Schopfer

By Lindsay Schopfer

Keltin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so physically uncomfortable. The sack of potatoes he was using as a seat dug painfully into his lower back as Evik’s mules seemed to purposefully pull the wagon over every bump and rock in Dhalma Province. Exhausted as he was from the lingering weariness of not sleeping well on the train, Keltin knew he’d never manage to doze off for even a moment as they slowly made their way to the camp. As Jaylocke slept peacefully across from him, Keltin wondered if everyone in the world except for him could sleep whenever and wherever they pleased.

He looked out the back of the wagon, but there was little to see. Night was falling and the trees between the farmers’ fields were becoming more plentiful, reminding Keltin of the hill country and its forests that he was accustomed to. While he felt somewhat at ease to be in familiar surroundings, he was also painfully aware of the dangers that the dense forest could hide. Despite his fatigue he tried to search the trees for any signs of movement until at last Evik called back to him and the rest of the gypsies riding in the back of the wagon.

“Start coming to life everyone. I see campfires ahead.”

Keltin sighed with relief as the wagon finally ground to a halt. He jumped out to feel the reassurance of solid ground under his feet once again and stretched, taking the chance to evaluate the campsite that Baron Rumsfeld had selected. They were in the open courtyard of a large farmstead that most likely belonged to a rich landholding family that had long since fled to the capital. There was an impressive barn and farmhouse and Keltin wondered for a moment if he would be lucky enough to be spending his nights in the farmhouse or at the least in the hayloft of the barn, but it wasn’t to be. Sentries at the front door suggested strongly that the Baron had claimed the farmhouse as his own personal command center.

Wandering a little around the farmstead, Keltin found that the barn had been given to the tamarrin hounds and their trainers, while the Heteracks and their sleevaks were making use of the pigpen and nearby storage shed for their housing. The rest of the hunters had their tents set up in the relative safety of a small, fenced-in pasture for some of the landholder’s grazing animals.

Seeing the other hunters’ tents, Keltin realized that he had yet to pitch his own shelter for the night. Looking around, he found Jaylocke’s wagon and went to the driver’s seat to grab his gear, but it was gone. Keltin remembered what Jaylocke had said about gypsies being considered thieves. He felt somewhat guilty, suspecting any of Jaylocke’s companions, but what else could have happened to his missing property? He was debating whether he should speak to Jaylocke or Evik about it when Maynid, the youth who had taken over the driving of Jaylocke’s wagon, strolled up to him.