Snippet #1461004

Kiella had long since fallen back into the steady rhythm of road travel, as familiar as the path itself. Their goodbyes to the group of caravaners had been a number of days ago now, and in the intervening time, Tarik had left to take care of something. She knew not if he would be back, but she hoped so. His departure had left her the informal leader of the group, at least in terms of navigation, and she was not sure it was a position she was comfortable with.

Still, for the sake of the others, she would do her best. Though she had walked this road so many times in the past- too many to count- she was somehow suddenly afraid that she would lose her way. Perhaps this was due to the importance of what she was really doing this time. Perhaps it was a fear of failing people who were trusting her. Maybe it was a combination of the two. Either way, there was an almost-tangible weight on her shoulders now, and though she bore it with a smile, it unsettled her.

When they approached the rift itself, she let out a quiet sigh of relief, shooting a glance behind her at the others. "If there's anything you still need to procure, this is your last chance for a while," she pointed out. Granted, Johnis and her old compatriots had sent them off with as much food, water, and weaponry as they wished to carry, so they were in no danger of running out for now.

She put on a bright grin as they approached the guards that were actually on duty. "Good day, Rabastan, Malik," she greeted the pair in front of the Rift entrance, and the unfriendly-looking men both gave her nods of courteous acknowledgement. She had passed this way so many times that she was at the very least on a first-name basis with half the garrison, something she hoped would help smooth the process a little bit.