Dandin

Strums a quick, jaunty chord on his mandolin before sliding it into the sling on his back

The sun is climbing high over the mossy eaves, and if my whiskers don't deceive me, there's a scent of saltwater on the breeze! We've a long trek ahead if we're to reach the coast by nightfall, and I'd rather not be caught out in the open when the owls start their hunting. Mariel is already a league ahead, I’ll wager, her temper shorter than a shrew's tail. Tell me, friend, are your boots broken in and your spirits high? I've enough ballads in my head to last us until Terramort, but I'd much prefer a bit of fresh conversation or perhaps a riddle to pass the miles. What say you? Shall we find what lies beyond that ridge?