A Quiet Forest Pathway

Rani

Ralf and Rani's time spent in Venland was not necessarily a pleasant one. Although his Varan comrades had managed to sell some of their goods, the northmen had to make haste leaving the region after Ralf's incident. Apparently he had morphed into the White Wolf and caused quite a ruckus at the Spoils of War. Paranoid that he may hurt a friend or an innocent being, Ralf was determined to either find a cure for his lycanthropy or at least discover a way to control it. He wasn't sure if the trait was a blessing or curse, and wrestled with the thought during his current trip.

Ralf would be traveling down a lone road that would converge with with another. This new road cut through a forest that, as the peculiar locals seemed to indicate, led to a town within or on the other side. And that town would serve as a place of rest and respite for the White Wolf.

Rani may or may not have chosen to tag along after Ulvrive. The Varan warrior would have tried his hardest to convince his old friend to come along, for he enjoyed her company and desired her presence.

Unfortunately, Ralf had only a few coins - not even enough to buy a mount. He wore his chainmail armor, wolf-themed apparel, steel sword, ancestral family sword, and his Hirhanic shield.

Ralf scratched his head in confusion, “I... I suppose I can. All this time I’ve been searching for the White Wolf - it’s been me all along.” The Varan frowned as he remembered all the rumors - all of the horrific tales he had heard. Bodies torn apart, organs strewn about a forest clearing, whole farmsteads slaughtered. A great ball of grief welled within him.

He turned his attention to Rani “thank you, sister, for coming with me. I... am fortunate to have a friend who can help me through this.” Ralf smiled through his grief and patted his dear friend on the shoulder. His respect for the troll was absolute, and he’d do anything for Rani.

The duo continued on down the forest path. Ralf occasionally glanced back at Uzi, as if he thought the beast might take a chunk out of his back.

I prefer horses... or wolves. 

Rani

Ralf paused at the fork and stroked his beard in contemplation. He wondered which path would lead to a town, if at all. Historically a group of folks might want to build along or at least near a source of water - so he was more inclined to follow the left path, which followed the stream. At least they could refill their canteens if they went this way as well. And if his hunting skills had taught him anything, many a critter's path would cross the stream to sip its contents - so if the two needed to hunt for food it would be easier along the creek no doubt. Perhaps the decision would have much easier if Ralf could have only understood the mumbling fool's dialect.

Collecting his thoughts the Varan turned to his friend and said "I say we take the left path and follow this stream. What say you, sister?"

As the odd pair followed the left pass, Ralf's suspicions would prove true. A small, fluffy critter ran across the path, squeaking with fright. Some sort of marmot, perhaps? A moment later, a large bobcat bounded after it, clearly intent on making a meal out of it. A sharp-eyed observer would notice something odd, however. The bobcat wore a collar, set with a glittering emerald. It caught up to the marmot within a matter of seconds, pouncing upon the unfortunate rodent and tearing it apart.