Sleeping in a tree wasn't his first choice of accommodations after a trek through the Din Lyore, but the closer he and Orchid came to Astarii, the more they ran across people who seemed content to leave the country alone. They saw entire merchant caravans turn around and head back east. That was about the time he sold their horses. Being on foot was slower, but also made it easier to travel unseen along the road. Word on the forested trails was that there was an army marching on Terestai, that there had been a battle for power in Ceranarad and anyone with sense (or something to lose) would head to either Stardriel or the northern forests until the battle cleared. Thalion had thought to visit one of Astarii's cities before he and Orchid had gotten this close. Now staying away from the more populated areas seemed like a better idea and a tree seemed more welcoming than any inn.

( Can't risk getting run through... )

Where the gods had not seen to give the desert flora, fauna or people, they poured the sky. Divine silk in every shade of blue imagined, the sky with stars behind stars. If the world was a naked thing, it would resemble the desert. When the wind was not blowing and the sun was gone, one could call such a place comfortable. One could think of building an absurd house on a dune, lose his boots and drink loads of wine from a stolen cart. Ah, such wine. The grapes were grown on the arid hills to the west of the Din Lyore; someone told him once that when a vine was deprived of water and had to strive to find water, the grapes gained their most mysterious, deep flavors. Odd to think that he was drinking the blood of grapes who'd suffered because such intangible suffering translated into a good year for a winery, which he and these four others had stolen with no regrets.

( Thalion lifted the bottle against his lips... )