"Ferrox, don't do that again." Those were among my last words before the sneeze that was to hold us all captive. Perhaps I should start a little before that sneeze though to help you better understand how we got here. You see, it started something like this...

"You know I don't want you to go,? His hand was trailing along my upper arm and shoulder as we spoke, sending shivers along my spine. I knew his feelings on the matter, and understood the reasons why. However, my own instincts, intuitions, whatever you wished to call it, told me that this was the path I had to cross. Now I know you will probably think me crazy, but there has always been this gentle voice I could hear deep in my thoughts. And before you smirk and turn away, understand this "voice" I hear isn't my own. She's much more motherly than that, like someone standing just over my shoulder always watching over me. Since I can't ever remember a time when I've been lead wrong by this voice, I had no reason to mistrust it, or her.

Even so, there were few who knew of this voice that directed my paths. Fewer still knew that she was truly the reason I was able to do what I did. You see, being a ranger is more than just being able to read a trail. Anyone can be taught to do that. To truly be able to do this well, though, one has to have an instinct, a knowledge, that goes beyond what can be experienced with their five senses. Sometimes, it's a feeling that tells you to go right when everyone else wants to go left. Yet it also goes beyond that. It's also about being able to inspire the trust in others to follow the path you set for them. Few will follow those they feel are insane or overly zealous. Trust me, holy men of the church are great for confessing your sins to, but they don't really do much in the way of guiding people along woodland trails.

In the hours following my meeting with the dwarf, I spent time telling my lover the details I knew about the job, and putting the things together that I knew I would need. It was then that the arguments began. The dangers, the protests, and the demands that I tell them to find another. Still, while my lover can be infinitely stubborn, he knows that I can be equally so. He is one of those few who actually knows about the voice. So it came as no surprise, when, as a last effort to dissuade me from embarking on this journey, he asked if she had given me any direction on this. When I acknowledged that she had spoken and confirmed that I was to go, he finally gave in. It's one thing to go up against one female voice, but two could be daunting even for him. Sometimes I almost felt sorry for him having to deal with that.

Now here we were, simply standing there in front of the fireplace watching the flames dance while his words rang over and over in my mind. He stood just behind me, arms wrapping me in his warmth, taking consolation in the moments we still had before my journey was to begin. Then as if he knew this would be our last moments together, he slowly and gently began unfastening the ties that held my leathers in place. Within moments he was exploring every inch of my body as if to commit me to his memories and hold me imprisoned there. My lover could be both attentive and demanding all at the same time. This moment was no exception.

His fingers had a way of setting my flesh on fire and making every inch of me tingle with anticipation and desire. Tonight was different, however, more so than any other time before. I could feel even his breath dancing over my skin, warm and enticing. When I finally turned in his arms, all of my desire had been fanned into a flame of their own, and we were soon entwined in each other's arms riding one wave after the other until we were both sated.

When we woke the next morning, the blaze in the fireplace was once again just smoldering embers. As before, he voiced his protest, "I truly wish you would stay."

"I know, but you also know that I will return. Then we can share the tales of both of our adventures."

That brought a smile to his lips finally. Though, when I looked into his eyes, they still appeared to be haunted by his fears.

Perhaps I should have listened to them. Now though, as I stand in the middle of this room, knowing that there is no way to prevent what is to come, my instincts telling me one second too late that we needed to be anywhere but here, I again hear her voice, "Don't be afraid, my child, I will always be with you." The sneeze, though, and not her voice, was what caught me by surprise. Somehow, he must have known all along that I wouldn't be coming back to share my tales this time.

"Oh fu..."

I waited for the month, taking odd jobs to keep myself in coin. A sell-sword is always needed, whether as a guard or to give the appearance of strength to a negotiator by merely standing quiet and imposing. I waited, and when the end of the second month approached I waited no longer. I had enough gold to ensure I had ample supplies, and I set out, hopefully following their trail.

There is no set boundary between The Badlands and The Desolation. You just know you have entered the expanse that surrounds Kahadras. There is no life. Barely a scrub grows there. But the feeling in the air grows more oppressive the closer you get to the low mountains surrounding the ruins.

Stories are told of magic-tainted monstrosities that haunt The Desolation, of spirits that do not rest and feed on the warmth of the living. Of murderous bands of degenerates driven from the more civilized lands that seek to prey on the unwary. I was lucky on my trek, but somewhere along the way I must have diverted from the road they took, for I ended up looking up at craggy walls that would not allow my horse to proceed. She always said I was stubborn, for I tied my horse to one of the crags and started to climb. I had no plan, only the drive to find them?her. That stubbornness gave me strength, and after half a day I crested the peaks and looked down on the plain below.

And I knew then my futility.

The plain stretched out into the distance before anything could be seen. Thin mesas, worn by wind and time, and beyond sharp jags of rock clawed toward the sky, even higher than the mount I was on. I thought perhaps a tower or two I could see, but could not be certain. The light was dim even though it was mid-afternoon, as though the sun was peeking near the edge of the horizon from under a thick layer of clouds. There was no way I could cross that expanse. I could not carry enough rations to sustain me. I fell to my knees, and just stared for what seemed like hours. My love had entered that waste. And had not returned.

I returned to Bain-heptan. On my way back I had almost hoped that something would attack. Some monster would rise from the hard-baked ground and end my remorse. Of course it did not. Each night in camp I prayed to whatever goddess that had spoken to her, begging for her to be in the town when I arrived. But I received no answer. I waited another month before hiring on as a guard on a caravan heading east. I was not yet giving up, and hoped that in one of the larger cities of Verrok, or Fainwaith, or even The Silver Lands or Dragon's Land I would find a way to locate and get to her.