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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Whizbang Dustyboots" data-source="post: 3547410" data-attributes="member: 11760">Back in Foxton on Moss, Hazel stands atop the hill in Midwood Green, surveying the darkened town. The Festival of Frost's Leaving was apparently not as raucous here, or ended early, as most of the town is dark and quiet. Looking southwest through a fringe of trees and across the Moss River, the Way Inn complex is one of the few  areas still lit. Below her on the hill, Emus and his dog are snuffling around the base of the hill, where Skeeter is beside himself over the smells left behind by all the currently absent sheep.She tilts her head toward the black sky, her eyes tracing the familiar outlines among the stars: the Wolf Pack, the Climbing Bear, the Horse and the Rider. South of the Archer's heel, the Traveler climbs into the sky with walking staff and bulging pack. Hazel grew up listening to bedtime stories about the Traveler journeying to the moons; he could never walk fast enough or far enough to catch either of them, but every night he set his feet upon the road.With a furrowed brow and halting speech, Hazel whispers in Draconic.Good journey, Kat. Goddess speed steps of yours and home safely bring you.She drops a hand into her pocket, her fingers clutching a crumpled sheet of parchment.Back in the Way Inn, the hatchet-faced woman -- the innkeeper's wife -- has all but bitten Emmerson's head off, taking her frustrations out on him, and she seems to have had a lot of them. Bufer, recognizing the better part of valor was called for here, had done an about-face, speaking to other members of the staff instead, hearing, after some inquiries, that the tavern boy Dieter had been acting strangely and went missing for much of the night after the fugitives had arrived. Ragglus has gotten into a very loud game of darts, seemingly unconcerned by the entire notion of pursuing their erstwhile friends, although the familiar edge of anger and frustration is visible to the gnome's sharp eyes.Outside, at the watch tower, Tucker watches with satisfaction as Khenemet-Apep is shackled to the wall, his hands held far enough apart to impede his ability to cast spells. But two of the Foxton deputies are arguing over whether or not it's legal to keep him gagged when Constable Ward Bridger slams the tower door open, followed by an exhausted deputy Tucker doesn't recognize.The red-faced deputy catches his breath, stretching out -- he seems to have ridden hard and fast from somewhere."The wizard ... alerted the baron!"Bridger's eyes slide to the wizard bound to the wall."He did?""... with magic!" The Middleborough deputy takes a proferred mug of water and gulps it down. "He raised the alarm with magic. Soldiers are spreading out from Middleborough and heading to the pass. The sheriff wants all available deputies to join the search and to bring trackers. The baron says he will hold court at noon, and wants all involved present for imperial justice."The constable points at Khenemet-Apep."Unshackle that man, and put him on a horse, hands bound behind him and bring him to Middleborough. Tucker, round up the tracker and find that gnome who overheard what happened in the graveyard." He turns to the Foxton deputies. "Get your fat oaf of a constable up and requisition some horses: We're the baron's men, and we ride for Middleborough!"The innkeeper's wife is just winding down her diatribe against poor Emmerson when Bufer walks up and grabs the young paladin's elbow, dragging him away in mid-stammered apology."We really should go," Bufer says to Emmerson as he leads him away. He glances up at the hatchet-faced woman and smiles. "Thank you for yer time, madam. You've been most helpful."They were here, all right," Bufer says, still walking slightly bowlegged as he leads Emmerson towards the darts game to collect Ragglus. "But they're long gone now, and it sounds like they weren't considerate enough to leave us a trail of breadcrumbs, if you catch my meaning. Unless Hazel or Emus's pup can pick up their trail, I think we're sunk."The last word comes out almost like a yodel as he yawns widely, then groans and rubs his eyes."Hell of a day, huh, beanpole?" he says, smiling wryly up at the paladin. "What say we find the others and see about heading home?""Others yes, home no," Tucker says, as the trio exits the inn. "It seems we're lunching with the baron.""What's that?" Bufer asks, suddenly keenly aware of his empty and rumbling stomach. "Bit of a reward for good efforts?""Uh, I'll fill you in once we find Hazel. Any idea where she is?""I thought she was safe with you all. After everything that's happened tonight, I'd think you'd have more sense! Y'all better hope Emus's watching out for her, else I'm gonna have to find myself a box and start kicking some sense into y'all!""She ain't a squealing runt," Ragglus growls. "If she wanted company, she would have asked.""Right as usual, Rags," Bufer says, sighing heavily. "Sorry. It's been a long day, I'm hungry and tired, my nose won't stop running and I got sores in places ain't meant to have sores. I've been barking orders at the lot of y'all all damn day, and y'all have been right charitable in not telling me to go soak my head in the river. Lead the way, Tucker."On Midwood Green, Hazel smiles at Skeeter's antics and walks down the hill."Never had a dog of my own," she says to Emus as she approaches. "My Dad had an old hound, though. Used to pillow my head on her belly by the fire and listen to Mama's stories. He never got another after the old girl died. I musta been four, maybe five."He a good tracker? Seems to pick up scents easy enough. Reckon the baron'll ask you to run down Kat and the others?" She pauses and continues more quietly. "How much trouble you think they're in?""Enough," Emus says simply with a frown. He reaches down to thump Skeeter's side affectionately. The dog pauses long enough to look round and smile at him with his tongue hanging out, then goes right back to his in-depth investigation of the unfamiliar odor of sheep, his tail wagging furiously behind him. "Skeeter could probably track 'em, given something to pick up their scent with, but getting him to do it on command is a stone of a different color. Honestly, even 'sit' and 'stay' are a bit of a challenge for him, some days."Squinting down the hill, he grunts to himself."Don't look now, but I think your nursemaid is coming for you.""See, she's right there," Tucker grumbles, as his group approaches, waving an arm at Hazel impatiently. "Now you can stop worrying about nothing.""I was just --" Bufer trails off in frustration and assumes a bright and cheery demeanor. "Well, it seems like we're not likely to see a bed before we see the sunrise."</blockquote>

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