As the group walks under the portcullis, Quiberron looks into the gathering night outside the walls and says, “Uh, anybody bring a torch?” Bart, who had been perched on the wall, takes off soundlessly and flies into the darkness overhead.
The night is indeed dark. Not even the moon shines at this time of the month, and the further the group walks, the closer the black creeps. The lights of civilization dwindle behind.
A cool breeze floats over the low grass and dirt road. Distantly, crickets chirp like violins and every so often a toad will add its throaty baritone.
Quiberron stubs his toe in the dark. “Does anyone know how far we’re going?”
“Not, really.” Del lights a torch and follows along with it in her right hand; her left hand grasps her fox pendant, her eyes uneasily peering into the darkness.
"I will scout ahead and send up a beacon if there's trouble," Sabal offers then leaves the circle of light from Del's torch and heads off in the direction of the quarry.
In a dangerous political climate, several expeditions are made to the infamous Wilds in hopes of expanding the country, Urbane, and avoiding an all out civil war. But, when the lord in charge of the excursions is almost assassinated, tensions increase and put new pressures on the brave explorers.