D’Artois’ visit to the widow is short, turning up little useful information. The dreams were of a wolf-like creature wearing what seemed to be an Indian talisman chasing him for hours on end, always right behind but never quite catching up. Duncan would wake just as his legs would give out in the dream, as the creature’s jaws began to close around his neck. The dream would occur every time he slept, and each time resulted in the same strangled cries that woke his wife and half the people staying in the nearby houses. She is a mess, unable to rid herself of the guilt for the words she said. By the time he returns, your trip to the general supply has gone well, and you are stocked with enough provisions, warm woolen blankets, thick canvas tents, and other winter supplies to last you for two weeks in the mountains. The Marshal decides to spring for a wagon and a couple mules to pull it to hold all the equipment rather than burden your mounts too much. “Better to be prepared than want for lantern oil on a cold night, right?” The words of the shopkeeper ring in your ears as the Marshal doles out five crisp $10 notes for the gear without regret.
The last night for a few days that you will spend in a bed goes quietly. Gibson is shockingly short by the way of entertainment, and you all get a full night’s sleep in preparation for the trip. You hit the road early the next morning, leaving Gibson under a slate grey sky that threatens to dump heavy snow on your modest caravan.
By mid-day, you pass over Hazel Creek and reach the hills that lead up to Mount Shasta. Your pace is slowed a bit by the wagon, but the road is in good condition and no obstacles arise to keep you. The snow starts at mid-afternoon, a heavy, windless falling that is causing some serious build-up by the time you stop for the night in a protected gully. Each of you dons large, thickly-quilted coats purchased in Gibson over your normal gear while riding and setting up camp, and while cold, you manage quite nicely. Bear Trap creates a large lean-to using a couple of canvas tarpaulins and some green branches. A roaring fire soon blazes, and after caring for the horses you settle in for a meal of beans and salted pork, reinforced with three loaves of fresh bread the Marshal reveals from his saddlebag with a grin. Sated and comfortable despite the inclement weather, Dakota sings a soft and lonesome song as you start to nod off.
"Eyes like a morning star
Cheeks like a rose;
Laura was a pretty girl
God almighty knows;
Weep all you little rains,
Wail, winds, wail
All along, along along
The Colorado trail.
Ride, all the lonely night
Ride through the day,
Keep the herd a-movin' on
Movin' on its way.
Dark is the stormy night
Dark is the sky,
Wish I'd stayed in Abilene
Nice and warm and…"
He cuts the song short suddenly as Riley’s head jerks to the east. (Listen Check DC20). As you all look, you see a hunched over figure, bundled in heavy furs, staggering toward you in the rapidly deepening snow.
