The Lifesaving Power: Goldenfields and Stronghold by Jeffrey Quyle

more than a vague outline of Walnut standing with his head down in the rain. Alec pulled his blankets about him, waiting for the dawn to give enough light to start moving. He felt hungry, and hoped that he’d come to a town early in the day to find some food in a tavern.
    He dozed as he sat until he realized that he saw Walnut clearly, and the trees and bushes nearby as well. Grumbling, hrolled his sodden blankets and untied his horse to begin traveling. The clouds prevented him from seeing precisely where the sun rose, but he traveled in a generally northeast direction, hoping that the rising ground would take him up the side of the hills that rolled beyond the river valley; he was sure a road would hug those hills, and give him easy access to Stronghold.
    Eventually Alec smugly discovered a trail just where he expected it to run along the southern slope of the hills, and his pace picked up as Walnut carried him through the light mist that still fell. The track was not wide, but had been leveled and cared for.
    Throughout the day Alec rode through the forested lands, without seeing another soul or sign of habitation. He began to grow suspicious that he was headed in the wrong direction, for surely there had to be outlying communities along the approach to Stronghold.
    By late afternoon he calculated that he should be less than a day’s ride from Stronghold, if he was heading in the right direction. The clouds remained thick, the rain fell sporadically, and he continued to guess that the road must be headed in the right direction, despite the evidence to the contrary. His stomach growled with hunger, and he turned his attention to scavenging for food. He got off Walnut and walked along with his head down, looking for edible plants. He found a few stringy weeds to chew on, and as he did so he remembered the many times he and Leah had eaten river plants and fish, and it brought a smile to his face.
    Those few mouthfuls of bitter weeds were all he found before the sky darkened and he could no long see clearly. He led Walnut off the road into the trees to care for him and prepare for another lonely night, thankful that at least the rain had stopped. As he brushed the horse and softly talked to him, he stopped in midstroke. He heard a noise, a faint music.
    Alec listened intently, swiveling his head to try to locate the sound and to see any visible evidence of its source. Far off, through the murky air, flickers of light reflected off tree trunks, showing that a fire had been started by someone.
    Alec fumbled about repacking his equipment on Walnut, then walked the horse carefully back out to the road, and headed cautiously towards the light. He wasn’t sure how to approach, or if to approach, whoever was ahead. In the deserted forest, most travelers would be likely to be wary of strangers showing up, and he would be wary of trying to enter a large group of strangers when trapped by the darkness.
    As he got closer he heard more distinctly the sounds of the music. It was a lively tune with jovial lyrics, one that Alec had heard played in the carnival many times. Treena had played it, sometimes on three instruments at once, and Noranda had enjoyed it, singing it to herself at times when she was distracted.
    Alec slipped down off the saddle as he rode close enough to see the tree trunks around the circle where two wagons boxed in one half of a campsite. Several men and a handful of women were sitting around the fire, one with a fiddle and one that pumped a small organ to carry the tune. They were beginning the second verse of the song, and clearly no one knew the words, because their chorus was faltering.
    Alec had a sudden recollection of Ari in Walnut Creek, when he had manufactured a tale of being a lost prospector. A bold thought came to Alec. Perhaps he could just as brazenly make up a story and join this group for the evening, so that he’d get directions from them in the morning and perhaps a bite of food, the prospect that