We still have some time until sunset, right?
That much is true, said Sir Bearach, but despite how long we’ve been travelling, I fear we are still far from seeing the other side of these mountains.
Fionn couldn’t help but agree. From his memory, the Godspine was thinnest at the point west of Hunters Den. This trek through the mountains really should not take more than half a day. As Padraig had put it before, the plan was to reach Ardh Sidhe by nightfall.
But if they were still within the Godspine at this time, perhaps three hours from nightfall by Fionn’s reckoning, then what chance did they have to cross the Midlands and the banks of Lough Aislinn at within that time too?
But Fionn kept his hesitations and his questions to himself. After the night in Hunter’s Den, spirits were high, so he didn’t feel the need to cause a ruckus for no reason.
As the hours when on, and darkness slowly descended upon the mountain path, Fionn felt the need to renege on this position. But just as he was about to speak up, Sir Bearach spoke first.
Have we been travelling south?
I don't think so, replied Fionn. The path is still taking us westwards, no?
I believe you are mistaken. This road has been sinister its steering. We were travelling westwards initially. But the path took a gradual, southern bend that gained more and more influence these past hours.
No! Fionn looked ahead through the thick snow. Padraig and Aislinn were still riding ahead of them, with the captain looking this way and that. Fionn sighed and moved forward, dreading the discourse that was to come.
Fortunately, Farris bound past on elkback and caught Padraig before Fionn could.
“Shouldn’t we have reached the Midlands by now?” the Simian asked curtly, as if it was more a statement than a question.
“We should have,” replied Padraig, “but our progress has been slower than it ought to have been. We should press on until we reach the other side.”
“No, we should not. If we press on any further, we’ll be pressing into the night. Should any of our mounts take a fall in the dark, we’ll all be travelling on foot. We should find a place to camp while there’s light to find one.”
Padraig turned to look at Aislinn, who exchanged a confused glance with him. He gave Farris a similar look.
“But we don’t have any gear for camping. We planned only to rest in settlements like Ardh Sidhe or Hunter’s Den.”
“And we did not plan on getting lost,” said Farris. “But for our own survival, we now must improvise.”
Padraig scoffed. “We are not lost. We’re just behind on time. If we continue on, we’ll—”
“South!” cut in Fionn. “The path is taking us south.”
Both the Human and the Simian gave Fionn a curious look.
“How do you know this?” said Padraig. “Intuition? Or have you a ship’s compass under your cloak?”
“The path has curved southwards,” he said. “It was gradual, so we didn’t notice without the setting sun to confirm our orientation. I think we really are lost.”
“If this is true, then we have no choice but to rest,” said Farris. “We should find shelter from this storm and start a fire if we can.”
“I suggest we reconsider,” said Padraig.
“You have lost your right to reconsider!” roared Farris. “We have lost our way, Captain Tuathil, and you may very well have led us to our death!”
“There’s no need for that,” cut in Aislinn. “Things may not be that dire. If we work together, perhaps we can find—”
“A better guide? I think a dowsing rod will serve a better guide than this buffoon.”
Padraig scoffed, but he didn’t have much more of a follow-up. Fionn reckoned the captain was well and truly lost.
“We must consider the worst possibility,” said Fionn. “There is a distinct chance that we are far from where we expect to be, and we may not find our way out of the mountains until the morning. Furthermore, if this storm gets worse, or the terrain grows less welcoming than it is now, we will surely perish in this cold.”
“We?” said Farris. “The only ones to perish here will be…” He trailed off. “Never mind. Well said, Firemaster.”
Padraig moved his mount towards Fionn. “What would you have us do? Camp here, in the middle of the road, in the middle of a storm?"
"No," said Fionn. “Half a mile back, the road took us through high rising cliffs. There may be cover there, or even a cave, if we’re lucky.”
“I have considered myself lucky before,” said Farris. “Maybe fortune will favour us more under a new guide.”
He threw a glance to Padraig, who after a long pause, gave a reluctant nod. With that, the party turned, and tracked back towards where they had come.
At first, Fionn had regretted speaking up so assertively, but even during the few minutes it took them to return to find shelter, the storm grew harsher. Sure enough, when they came back to the area he had spoken of, somewhere behind him Farris remarked that this was indeed well suited for a camp.
It's his grudge with the captain, remarked Sir Bearach. Farris sees this as getting another one over Padraig.
Why would that even matter? replied Fionn. Making it through the night now is all that does.
Together, they dismounted, and surveyed the area for a place to settle. Without any camping equipment or supplies, their night’s sleep was sure to be a harsh one. Farris found a spot in the bend of the road, where the high mountains sheltered the space from the roaring winds on three sides. All were about to agree to rest here, until Padraig shouted out, claiming to have found a cave.
“It’s just here!” he cried over the wind, beckoning the others to follow him. As they did, the black mouth of an open cave emerged from around a bend.
“Not much of a cave,” remarked Farris. Indeed, when Fionn was close enough to look inside, it was no more than ten feet deep, sloping gently downwards.
