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The town was a little closer than Deline had estimated - in part because they struck a rather quick pace, not trusting the clouds hovering over the mountains, and in part because they took advantage of two wagon-rides offered to them.
The first one didn’t take a large amount of distance off of their trip, but it was almost all uphill, and they were both glad to let the big draft horses to the climbing. The farmer, a quiet woman with a distant look in her eye, didn’t ask many questions and didn’t provide much information - but as she was pulling the wagon to a stop, she told them, “if you’re going Ghomau way, Ewdin there might be running the wagon into town.” She peered up at the sun. “You make a good pace here to there, you might catch him. He’ll talk your ear off, but he likes the company.”
They made it to Ewdin in time to help him load straw into his wagon and ride up with him. Deline had been a little worried about what they would tell him, what they could tell him, but it turned out to have been a vain worry.
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