Bren drove the first wagon, his wife Della and their two small children inside. He was a tall and broad man with thick black hair who looked as strong as the pair of oxen that pulled his wagon. His brother Kern drove the second wagon, with Kern’s son Laeg sitting beside him. Kern’s wife had died of a fever the previous winter and to avoid the memories, he had built another wagon and joined his brother on his traveler route.

They were headed for River Fork, they had messages for several people there. This year’s Fall Festival would be held in a new location, since the valley had prospered in recent year, the location it had been held in was too small. A larger place had been found to accommodate the growing population. Another message they had was for the hedge witch Olla, Bren wanted to get rid of that one as quick as he could. When the healer from the southern village handed the envelope to him, he could feel the magic in it. The one thing he didn’t trust was magic. When he was younger, his talent was fire magic. After accidentally causing multiple fires when he was a child, including the one that had completely burned down his parent’s house, he swore he would have nothing to do with magic ever again.

Bren stared out at the road ahead of the wagon. He could hear his younger child crying behind him, Della trying to quiet the sobs. Sometimes things fell inside if the wagon hit a particularly deep rut. His mind began to wander, the road seeming to hypnotize him. The reins were slack in his hands since the oxen would not stray from the road. He was looking forward to stopping at the inn in the village, they brewed a lovely mead there as well as a few different ales. The bar maid there was a buxom girl of about nineteen, pleasant to look at, but he would not stray from Della. Now there was a good woman. She took good care of him, had some healing arts about her and had given him two fine boys. She did not mind the traveling either. Della loved to gossip with the village women, spreading the news about who had new babies, how the crops had done, and new ways of healing.

The oxen stopped suddenly. Bren looked up, seeing a huge branch down across the road. He hollered back to Kern, who stopped his wagon and came up around the front to see what was going on. Laeg walked up the other side, patting the right ox on the neck.

“Boy, get the saw,” Kern told his son. Laeg ran back to the second wagon and climbed inside, pulling out the tool box. He returned with the saw and handed it to his father. Kern began cutting the branch into smaller pieces so they could pull it off the road. The door of the front wagon creaked open, as Della came out to see why they had stopped. Seeing the branch, she shook her head and carrying the baby, she took the older boy’s hand and they walked from the road to the edge of a stand of trees.

The men made quick work of the tree and finally dragged the last bit of debris off the road. Della loaded the children back into the wagon and they were able to get going again. Bren looked up toward the sun and thought that they should be able to make the town way before dark. Most likely in time to get supper at the inn instead of setting up a camp and cooking over a fire. A home style meal cooked by someone else was always welcome.

Bren drove on past fields and farms, noticing that the farm houses were becoming more numerous. That was usually a good sign that the village was close. He could see men out in the fields, and waved. He did not envy them at all. He much preferred the freedom of the open road over the trap of tending a farm. He managed to provide well enough for his family without having roots and being overwhelmed by responsibilities. His two older brothers had stayed and taken over their parent’s farm. As the baby of the family, there would not be much left over for him. So he built his beautiful fancy wagon, joined up with a caravan and traveled. When he had been younger, before meeting Della, he had driven his oxen from Emrys Rock by the Great Desert all the way to Ridavin on the southern coast just above the Wasteland Wall. After a few years, when his middle brother Kern had lost his wife to the fever, he had helped him build his own wagon and started his own small caravan. He only traveled up and down the River Road now, the route was safer and the villages closer. After a few scares with the other caravans, he was ready to settle into a more routine schedule.