Plains, northeast of the Greenbelt, the Border Kingdoms
Dusk, Fifth of Kythorn, Year of Lightning Storms (1374 DR)

There hadn't been much more to be done once they'd recovered the harpoons and given the rusty old longsword consideration.

They followed the gully down to the dried-out creek bed, and it led them unerringly northeast, abruptly stopping at another slope an hour or two later. Up and over the crest of that hill, and the land sank away into green and golden grasslands, as the hills finally gave up their grip and they came down into waving tallgrasses under a sky going red.

From there the journey was simple. The wind was gentle and blowing from the southeast, white clouds scudding across the sky. Birds dived and whipped across the grasslands, chirping in search of insects. They made good time and on Kuros's judgment they'd be back at Oleg's sometime tomorrow morning. They hadn't had any chance to forage for food, but their rations likely would hold out one more night, and the big six-armed man was pretty sure they were on target for Oleg's.

Dusk crept in. They'd made excellent time and Kuros was thinking it was a pretty good time to set up camp for the night. Where they were would be as good a place as any; the plains rolled out for miles and there wasn't anywhere more sheltered than here, though he didn't think the weather would go bad overnight. It was the failing light and their quick pace that meant they didn't see the figure until he was less than a hundred feet from them.

Fortunately, though, the same figure didn't seem to want trouble. It was a black, human-looking silhouette against the western sun, a figure in cloak and maybe the unshining bulk of leather armour. He had risen from the grass with a long spear raised above his head -- not in a threatening pose, but raised high and parallel with the ground, grasped with its hands set shoulders' width apart.

Kuros knew that pose, that gesture: it was frequently used by hunters in the wilderness who wanted to approach and talk to a stranger and were indicating their intentions were peaceful. From that position it was hard to handle a spear either in attack or defence, and even if he dropped that spear, he'd have to drop his hands to his weapons - well enough time to put an arrow in the man.

The figure waited a moment, the wind gently pushing at the corners and flaps of his cloak. Then he raised his voice, enough for the Company to hear his husky basso: "Was hoping to share a campfire for an hour or two. Got a couple of coneys to pay for the company. We well met?"