The canyons of Redridge are louder than the inn back in Lakeshire — more grit in the teeth and fewer polite conversations. I woke with the taste of yesterday’s fishing on my lips and shoved off into a day that wanted me to run errands for the whole town. I learned Flare today — small, bright, and useful — and it felt like the sort of trick a hunter should have up her sleeve when shadows lengthen between the rocks. My talents got a tune-up as well; I shifted my focus and felt the difference in my hands and aim.
I chased gnolls and gnomecorder crumbs across the western canyons: Canyon Romp sent me hunting collars until my quiver was lighter and my boots dustier, and the ragged propaganda led me to the ragged truth in Rethban Cave. I found the ettin orb and, improbably, learned how to make those lumbering things do what I wanted — Foreman Oslow’s rescue will be easier now. I also answered Basin’s plea for frankfurter supplies and actually got the rations back; there’s little in life as satisfying as feeding a grateful guard.
Somewhere between copper veins and patches of earthroot I hit a milestone — I reached level 20. Huzzah! I stamped my foot and felt it: more steadiness, more reach. I finished tuning the gnomecorder and wrapped the day by accepting new calls — Yowler’s name hangs heavy in my pack, and Parker’s reports want delivering. The canyons still hum; tomorrow I’ll answer them.