Travelling the Plains

The morning chill of the plains flitted away as the sun rose into the clear clue sky. In the distance, jagged, snow capped peaks turned the horizon into a badly drawn line instead of the usual flat line disappearing into infinity.

The soft coach springs of the caravan absorbed most of the uneven ground, turning it into a softened jolting as the big wheels were dragged over clumps of grass, hardened manure and trampled ant-hills.

The darkness tickled Minerva's senses. She could feel it out there, behind her. Just as she could feel the Shadow lord watching as well.