"Right it is then!" says Pezock jauntily, as though he means to dispel the sullen mood of his friends through sheer high spirits. "What a bunch of sourpusses we have today, Pearl," he remarks in a lowered voice, which is still quite audible to everyone else.
The right hand path leads in a more or less westerly direction for another couple of miles, during which the group finds another couple of ill-concealed traps. Then they come to a river. The path here splits again, one branch following the river upstream to the north, the other following it west in the direction of its flow.
Both branches of the path show signs of use. "West again?" asks Pezock. "I feel like going north might just take us in a big circle."