Ryatt

The bartender at the quaint inn we’re staying at for the night pours me another glass of whiskey neat. I nod my thanks as little jolts of pain run up my spine, skittering like mice. It took three jumps to get from that hell-hole where my daughter was born back to Rifthold. I was barely standing by the end of it, and after two full days traveling on foot, we’ve finally made it to a familiar pack, a familiar village, and are back in the Roguelands.

We’ll be close enough ...