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Traveler's Camp
Mulling around, Arasiniel decided to go find Gortek at the riverbank.
Seeing him tying some line together, Aras stepped over to him and sat down.
"You know, Gortek, I shouldn't have treated you like that. I am sorry for the way I acted. It was uncalled for, as you have as little right to trust me as I have. Will you forgive me?"
"Aye, lad. But don't expect me to be your best friend too soon. It will take time to smooth out this incident." Then, after a pause, he turned to Aras and said, "This fishing line is giving me some trouble. Would you help me to untangle it?"
"Of course!" he said, overjoyed to have some time growing closer to Gortek, "Maybe we can catch some fish and have them for dinner."
"Aye, that would be good."
After some time spent fishing, Aras turned to the Dwarf and said, "You know, I have the funniest feeling that I should pack quickly and be ready to move very soon."
"Really? That just came to me, too. Fishing is not that good, here, anyway. Let's get ready to leave."
Returning to the camp in the small knoll, they found the Elf, Raendin, waxing his bow, and packing his things. With a nod, they agreed they all had the same premonition of something great happening. Hurriedly wrapping the warm meat, Aras stuffed it into his pack, and readied his few belongings.
Something tingled in his mind, something warning, an eerie specter of gloom. Doom approached.
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