It did indeed take us the rest of the day to reach the Inn, since the trail wandered and crisscrossed all over the hills. At one point, Ingrid asked why we didn’t walk as the crow flies and head straight for the inn rather than following the windy trail.
“This is why,” I said as I picked up another stick off the ground and tossed it into the waist high grass just off the path. Like a pack of rabid animals, the grasses tore and snapped the twig apart, and Ingrid yelped, staggering back.
“What the hell is that?” I sighed, sadly shaking my head.
“Blood grass. A druid from a long time ago created a lot of carnivorous plants and these hills are full of them. We stick to the trail, since it is enchanted to keep travelers safe.” She looked at me, her eyes curious.
“How do you know so much about all of this?”
“I helped make the trail.” I picked up my staff and began wandering along again and she gasped, her eyes going from curious to annoyed.
“So, it’s your fault this trail is so windy! I should have known. Can’t you walk in a straight line?” I chuckled.
“Technically, it is a straight line, just not all of the time.” She stamped her foot in frustration.
“That’s not what I meant! You’ve got us going back and forth for no reason.” I nodded wisely and smiled brightly.
“It’s not about the journey; it’s about the destination. Wait, no, hang on.” She huffed, frustrated and stormed further ahead, leaving me by myself at the back of the party. Torpor gave me an almost pitying look as we marched onward.
The Bouncing Badger made the Dirge look like someone’s kitchen in comparison. A proper big building, capable of housing almost twenty people at one time, and feed hundreds more. It was one of the last vestiges of civilization before the plains that we’d have to cross heading into the Northern Mountains. That meant for adventurers or travelers like ourselves, it was our last chance to get any materials or equipment we might need.
We entered the smokey, wooden-walled main room, chalk full of people eating, drinking, laughing, and off near the small band playing their folks tunes, dancing. Ivory, Torpor, and I turned to the left away from the music as usual, and led Ingrid over to a small section of the floor that was like a tiny, indoor market. There were some tables set up with all manner of goods, ranging from dried food and provisions, to mountaineering rope and pitons, clothes, what looked like a few potions and sleeping pads, and all sorts of other stuff. The proprietor of the largest table, a keen-eyed, green-skinned troll, loomed behind the products. He was totally bald, and his skin wrinkled on itself like the many folds of old leather. He gave a deep, hooting cough as he spotted our little band heading toward him and he hoisted himself to his feet, so tall his head brushed the ceiling.
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