72nd of Ash, Year 4621
There was a certain warmth in the days that passed. No longer confined by his fear of isolation, Jack found himself approaching the world with an almost arbitrary jubilance, breaking out into playful sprints and touring the edges of the hills and knolls that decorated the length of the Vinasir river. He found beauty in the world around him, again, and even some sense of recollection. These were the lands he was born in -- raised in. Even if he had not been in the Southern Marches for a very long time, they were still familiar to him; still home.
They passed through San Valencia without issue. While they were there, the two managed to acquire some more rations, stocking up a bit more so that they were prepared for the remainder of the road. The man filled his bags with whatever would help ease their burdens, the rest of the space being occupied by his tarp. Clothes were a limiting factor -- he'd had only his two outfits, both very simple, and while before he did not mind the growth of stench on his skin from hours spent walking in the sun, Midhir's presence made the man more flustered. He spent an inordinate amount of time washing and drying his clothes as they traveled in the coming seven days, and trying to stay presentable for someone he cared to present himself to.
The visions didn't make things easy. His mind latched to them, sometimes in waking hours, and most often as he fell into a slumber. The closer Midhir was, the more distant those hallucinations became, so needless to say Jack found his arms locked around him for hours of the day. Being near him was pleasant, of course... as was being lucid.
They stood, now, further along the road. The sun shined bright, its warm glow radiating against the young man. Jack held his hand over his face like a visor, peering out towards the distance as the wind idly crossed them, keeping them cool. As it had been throughout their journey, the riverbed sat not far from their flank, obscured only by cypress and oaks. Jack saw a group of black-cladded men in the distance, barely able to make out their postures. As they slowly approached, nearer and nearer, he was suddenly startled by a violent yell.
"Aaaaagh!" one man screamed. A flash of blue cut through him, his leg becoming dismembered before bursting into a spatter on the road. It took only a moment, and the Badlander knew -- this was a conflict between Halamire.
"Shit," he cursed. "Midhir -- there's a battle ahead." An explosion boomed; a Caru detonating, though he did not know that. A number of the soldiers screamed as they collapsed onto the ground, immolated. There was no way to know whether it was only Halamire on the field, or if they were being led by an Entente. Judging by the amount of magic being unleashed, he imagined that - at least - there were Valran on each side.
To their left was a cliffside, one that neither of them would be able to climb. They could try to swim across the VInasir, he knew, but that meant their belongings becoming soaked - if they could even make it across.
Jack immediately gripped Midhir's bicep and pulled him behind one of the oak trees, ensuring they weren't seen. "We might need to wait here," he muttered. Peering back out from behind the tree, he caught a bolt of energy flinging aimlessly towards the foliage, crashing against the bark of another tree and nearly ripping through it. "Fuck. The bridge to cross to Railón was three days back," he said. There was no way to know whether the battle ensuing was merely a skirmish, or a prolonged dispute, blocking travel between the two sides of the fortified pass. They weren't that far from Amoren, though, meaning it wasn't a battle between two Montese or anything of the like; all of this was Brilan Ald's land. It was... probably two Veir who held a long-standing property dispute.
"We're only a week to Amoren," he said, gritting his teeth. "I don't have the time to backtrack. We need to move through."
