The sun sets down on the small town of Mallow. Population 47. You’ve slowly been growing, and since fall is coming, crops have been harvested and scouts have been sent to scavenge. But even with what you have, you’ll never make it past winter. So at one of the Friday council meetings, you and Crane, your ridin partner, declared to head south to the cities on horseback. And since the council begrudgingly agreed, you were sent off.

The cold fall air creeps through the field. You stand outside, packing the last of your bags on your stallion. Crane is across from you packing his bag on his peryton, a nice turquoise tipped and silver based mare. “Ready?” Crane sighed getting on.