The group rode through the hills, making their way back to Malagrim's stronghold, Drechtfell.
Danir rode in the center, his mouth gagged, and his hands tied to the saddle horn.
Desmond, ever the fearless leader, rode at the front. "Kristoph! Scout ahead for a place to stop."
One of the more unstable-looking of Desmond's group rode forward without a word.
Turning to face Danir, Desmond cracked another insufferable grin. "Be glad I sent him," he pointed at Kristoph. "He's the one charged with slitting your throat, should you make any trouble."
Danir remained silent, and vigilant; awaiting his opportunity.
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