Extract from ‘The Winter That Follows’ – The series prequel sequel… (currently in progress).
Tal Daris checked his scarf and hood again and rode away as quickly as he dare. Too fast and it looked suspicious, too slow and it was overconfidence. He’d paid for the horse with genuine frisian silver, albeit it stolen, but still. He was currently a legitimate horse owner… kind of. He wasn’t about to spend too long worrying about the legality of it. Particularly not considering that he was currently riding solo through Frisia – a nation not known for it’s hospitality to wood elves, with only a leather hood and a Jaffrian cotton scarf covering his pointy bits. He was lucky enough not to have any racial markings on his face or neck and in that position a lot of operatives would have swaggered about taking the kind of risks that got you information quickly and then very swiftly got you killed. Tal Daris tended to be more of the opinion that it was better to be ill-informed and still alive than know everything just in time to die. As far as he knew he was on the right road for the army camp, if not he’d have to cross that bridge when he found it, or not as the case may be. If he kept riding, he might get there in a few hours and then he would have to figure out how to get through the gates. Oh, yeah, and he had to hope he didn’t sneeze too violently at the wrong moment dislodging his hood.