Part 4 - Fairhill
The following day dawns, unsurprisingly, though dark clouds have rolled in during the night, and its hard to tell exactly when the sun rises. By the time breakfast is finished, the rain has started again - a slow, fine drizzle, more like a cold wet fog than an honest downpour.
The oxen take this with an air of stoicism and are soon trudging along the road, passing the mounds of wet ash and charred bone which used to be ogres and travellers alike.
The rain continues in the same chilling manner for the rest of the day, seeping in under clothing and seeming to even seep through to the very bones of the adventurers.
With no shelter save the forest canopy, and a fire that burns fitfully and with much eye-stinging smoke, their camp that night brings little relief from the weather. Perhaps because of the weather, their rest is, at least, undisturbed - though some are less happy about that than about the weather.
The following day, Darkday, starts with more rain and cold, and Jack seems to have developed a chill - coughing, sniffing and sneezing all through breakfast.