and Skharr rolled his eyes.
"Well, if you want to believe otherwise, far be it from me to convince you. But he has his family to deal with. That is the only reason why he didn't come along to say his goodbyes in person."
The barbarian had a feeling Horse would not be happy to see Brahgen again, but the distance between them and the matters each had to focus on made it a moot point. A short boat ride had brought him from the coast to the Followers' camp, and from there, after a short stop, they traced the river to the lakeside town.
He’d deliberately chosen a route around the Druums Woodlands now that he wasn't in any hurry and although it was a little longer, the road was easier and he would soon be in Verenvan.
"Have it your way," the warrior growled. "But if you're rude to him should we meet the dwarf again, it will be no more apples for you. For at least…a week."
That certainly wouldn’t convince the stallion of anything. It was an empty promise and they both knew it.
"I would have thought someone as brave as you would take the shorter road through the woodlands," a voice called from behind them.
Skharr's hand was already on his ax, ready to draw it and prepared for a fight, but he knew it wouldn't be necessary. If Theros had a mind to kill him, there wouldn't be much a simple ax could do to stop him. Perhaps the sword or dagger he carried would help, but it was unlikely.
He narrowed his eyes at the old man, who leaned heavily on a walking stick and was followed closely by a foul-tempered donkey. There hadn't been much call for the god to reveal himself to him lately, and when he did, it was usually in his dreams.
A quick look around said this was not a dream, although he decided it was probably a sound idea to remain aware of any indications that might change that opinion.
Finally, Skharr shrugged. "There is a difference between being brave and being stupid. I could make my way through the woodlands but as I have no pressing concerns weighing on my mind, it would be a pointless risk to wander through there."
"I suppose that makes sense," Theros said and patted Horse's neck in passing.
"So, what are you doing here?" he asked as he began to walk again. "I'll admit I did not expect to see you anywhere around here. Is there a problem?"
"It is rare that I seek one of my followers out merely to hold a conversation," the god admitted. "I think we should stop to camp. It will give us a moment to speak."
"Can't you talk while on the path?"
"Why would I? In this body, there are certain aches and pains that distract me. So, camp?"
The barbarian shrugged. "Why the fuck not?"
They stepped off the road and Theros immediately lit a small campfire and positioned a kettle full of water over the flames.
"I don't suppose you'd like a bit of koffe, would you?" he asked and groaned as he sat on a nearby boulder.
Skharr’s eyes widened as he sat. "It's been a while since I've tasted the brew. I suppose, for Abirat, I might have a cup in his memory."
"Abirat?"
"The redhead who died in our battle against the elder god," he reminded his companion. "It is odd that I would have to remind you of the folk who died in your name."
"Ah…yes. In my defense, there has been a great deal on my mind."
"I see." He regarded the old man with a teasing smirk. "I like to think I would remember the name of every warrior who died in my name."
"Give it a few hundred years and a few thousand names," Theros countered.
A sound point, Skharr thought as he was offered a wooden cup with the thick, bitter liquid.
"So, I assume all this is because you need something from me?"
"Aye, and it would be enough weight on your mind to perhaps drive you through the woodlands, but it is a little too late for that. For the moment, we can enjoy a beautiful day and a cup of something warm to drink."
It was warm with the perfect amount of bitter but there was a sweetness to it as well. It wasn’t quite enough to be cloying but it took the edge off of the bitterness in a way he wasn't overly fond of.
"It's Cassandra," Theros stated finally and looked at him over the lip