Red Magic by Jean Rabe Page B

make it. She didn’t believe she could take another step without shoes. As she looked for a spot relatively free of thorn bushes, she listened to Galvin and Wynter.
    “Mushrooms and nuts—for dinner?” the centaur complained.
    “There aren’t many animals around here.”
    Wynter grumbled. “Even the animals know it’s not safe this near Thay, eh?”
    Wynter glanced at Brenna and dropped her rolled-up tent and bag at her feet. She considered the tent, and for a moment she thought about unrolling it, setting it up, and crawling inside. But only for a moment. Instead, she dropped to all fours, slumped to her stomach, placed her head on the canvas, and immediately fell fast asleep.
    Brenna woke shortly after dawn to the smell of something cooking. The land was bathed in a thick fog, and through it, she saw Wynter standing before a small fire turning on a makeshift spit what looked like the leg of a deer. Nearby, Galvin was rubbing something into a piece of hide. The young councilwoman struggled to a sitting position. Her legs ached and felt like lead, and her neck was stiff from sleeping at such an awkward angle.
    However, she refused to appear beaten. Standing and smiling weakly, she greeted her companions good morning, grabbed the smaller of her bags, and looked around. It was so foggy she had to ask the druid directions to the river, which she was surprised to hear was only a few yards away. She returned about half an hour later, feeling her way through the fog and wearing a new dress, which was beige and decorated with tiny pink flowers. It was no more practical than the ruined blue one she tossed on top of her tent.
    “Well, shall we be moving on?” she inquired, feigning being chipper, rested, and ready to go. It was a good performance, she decided. Actually she felt like curling up in a ball and sleeping for a month. Still carrying her bag, she cocked her head in the direction of the First Escarpment.
    “Put these on first,” Galvin instructed, tossing a pair of hide moccasins in her direction—the hide he had been working on. “Antelope skin. It’s thick enough to be comfortable and provide some protection.”
    The sorceress dropped to the ground and gratefully pulled on the moccasins. She cast a glance in the druid’s direction, wondering if he had killed the antelope in order to make the moccasins.
    The druid kicked dirt over the flames to douse them while the centaur packed a large chunk of roast antelope into his bag. Then Galvin started toward the escarpment, and Wynter bent to pick up Brenna’s tent and larger bag.
    “Just the bag,” she said, not wanting to bother the centaur with something she wouldn’t have the energy to unwrap. “Leave the tent behind. Sleeping under the stars is just fine.”
    The morning fog hung low to the ground and extended upward about fifteen feet. The thick haze looked ghostlike, giving the woods a haunted appearance. Even Galvin had difficulty moving through it, since it cut visibility to only a few feet. The druid wended his way slowly through the trees with one arm extended in front of him and the other off to the side. He looked like a blind man feeling for obstacles. The thorn bushes tore at his leggings, and he tried to push the treacherous branches aside so they wouldn’t prick Wynter and Brenna.
    As the sun rose higher in the sky, it burned off most of the fog, revealing the brilliant jade and emerald hues of the large-leafed trees that dominated this section of the woods.
    Pressing closer toward the escarpment, they heard the pounding rush of water. Emerging from the edge of the woods shortly after noon, they saw the magnificent falls that cascaded nearly three hundred feet down the First Escarpment and roared into the river. The moisture at the base of the falls looked iridescent, creating a miniature rainbow.
    “It’s—it’s beautiful,” Brenna gasped, trying to take everything in.
    “I’ve never seen anything more spectacular,” Wynter admitted.