A Long-awaited Move

Well before sunrise, two horses cross the river, coming from the West. Slowly they walk, pulling behind them a caravan consisting of three connected wagons, each creaking and bouncing as they cross the stone bridge.

A very young man, blonde, with a pleasant air, walks along beside the horses, giving the lighter of the mares an encouraging pat, and turning occasionally to check on the wagons. A handsome, dark, exotic-looking man sits on a makeshift bench at the front of the first wagon, holding the reins.

Anyone asking guards or town officials about the little caravan would learn that this was expected, that he two men had lived west of town, but had secured permission to move into the hamlet months ago, when the surrounding areas were first deemed unsafe for simple wagons. But, between the young ones duties at the Morning Farms and the older one's construction projects, they hadn't found the time, until now.

By the time the sun is beginning to peek over the city walls, the wagons are in their new position. The young blonde unties the horses and gives them food and water, while the dark-haired man rolls a small boulder out of the last of the wagons. His muscles stretching his shirt, the man rolls the stone to a shady spot under an apple tree, positions it carefully, and gives it a pat.

When the young blonde has seen to the horses, he approaches the older man, and they stand close together for a long moment, speaking softly to one another, surveying their new environs.

Then the activity begins anew, as the older one strides into the House of the Moonmaiden, while the young one smiles, removes a little symbol to Lathander from his bag, places it on the stone, and kneels in prayer just as dawn sweeps across the tiny town.