Another week had passed, and just as the sun was about to fall—
TAP.
Pwyll, Bernia, Tatum, and Nara—along with the slaves that decided to stick with them—reached the entrance of the [Cursed Forest].
The three carriages stopped in a neat line behind them, the wooden frames groaning under the immense weight of the resources, tools, and the breeding pairs of livestock they had brought all the way from the City of Sven.
"Can you tell us now where we are headed...?"
The only human that sticked with them asked, he was confused.
His eyes darted from the dark tree line back to the faces of their guides. His voice carried a deep, gravelly tone, filled with a mixture of exhaustion and a rapidly rising anxiety that he could no longer suppress.
Pwyll and the others didn't say anything to them throughout the journey on the way here.
