The month passed much like any other. The road gradually began to deteriorate, making the appearance of potholes inevitable.
Even so, Lancelot always took charge of leveling the ground where Elara's carriage had to pass, minding every detail to spare her any unnecessary jolts. She was nearing her sixth month of pregnancy, and no one wanted her to suffer more than she had to.
Elara, however, was stubborn and did not take kindly to being coddled. Patrick often had to intervene, for he knew her strong will well. She could be gentle at times, but without a doubt, she was a determined woman, willing to do whatever was necessary.
During the journey, she had even been banned from helping in the kitchen; a direct order from Saldry, despite Elara's silent protests.
Darian, usually cheerful, had been acting strangely. Perhaps it was seeing his mother weak most of the time, or the thought that she had gone through the same thing when he was still in her womb. Whatever the reason, he now watched her with a serious expression, guarding her in silence.
When he wasn't looking after her, he focused on practicing reading and writing using the only book he could understand.
"Mommy, the book mentions that the path was created by a being called 「T. PAT」, and that the mist is just the residue of that attack. What does that mean?"
Elara smiled softly and tucked a lock of hair behind his ear.
"That happens when gods decide to fight," she replied. "But it happened thousands of years ago, my love. You have nothing to worry about."
Darian frowned, thoughtful.
"Trees take a long time to grow, yet we still use their shade," he said. "Why would this be different, Mommy?"
Elara let out a small laugh.
"My, oh my. You really should stop reading so much, brainiac."
"T. Pat... Teredius Patty? No, too silly..." Darian tried to guess.
He thought for a few more seconds, counting on his fingers.
"Maybe Tyran-something? Or Patros?" He shook his head. "Hmm. Important names always sound weird."
He looked up at his mother with a serious face.
"It's probably a name so long they only wrote the important letters."
Then he frowned again.
"Or," he whispered, "maybe gods get tired of writing, too."
Elara laughed again, a bit louder this time.
"Definitely," she said. "That's enough for today."
Just as Darian was losing himself in the mystery, the carriage came to an abrupt halt.
"Mommy? It's not night yet, let me go to..."
Darian was about to continue, but his mother stopped him immediately. Mist was beginning to seep in through the edges of the wagon; they had crossed the threshold.
"Don't come out! Stay in your carriages and keep the covers down!" Patrick shouted.
Immediately after, he dismounted his horse along with his companions. Nina and Lara moved quickly, climbing nearby trees to get a better vantage point.
The mages, for their part, remained in the rear.
"Be careful," Patrick warned. "According to the myths, they read intentions. Don't think about attacking; only defending. Though, to be honest, I don't know how true those stories are."
He kept his hand near the hilt of his sword. If the tales were real, as long as he harbored no intent to attack, perhaps the mist would let them pass. They couldn't risk a fight with Elara pregnant and Darian, who would undoubtedly try to protect her.
"We see nothing in the distance!" Nina and Lara shouted from their positions.
"And I sense no mana corruption, as was rumored," added Zeldric, waving his wand in wide circles, searching for any anomaly. "Even if the mist is the residue of an ancient attack, it doesn't seem to be made of mana."
A massive presence loomed before them.
Patrick barely reached the height of one of its paws. The wolf was gigantic, watching him silently from the fog.
Reflexively, Patrick swallowed hard and stood motionless, suppressing the urge to draw his weapon. The creature approached and sniffed him for several seconds, looking him up and down as if searching for something more than just his scent.
It didn't seem friendly. It bared its fangs every time it exhaled, making it clear that a single mistake would be enough to trigger an attack.
I have to protect my family.
Why only him?
It seemed to detect who was the strongest in the area and, from there, evaluate the group's intentions. As the leader, it saved itself the trouble of sniffing them all.
"Woof!"
Suddenly, the wolf shrank. It was still large, almost Patrick's height, but it rested a paw on his head and stuck out its tongue, wagging its tail like a domesticated dog.
"Huh?" Patrick was visibly bewildered.
From one of the carriages, a canvas cover was lifted carefully.
"...Mommy?" Darian barely poked his head out. "Did Dad just make friends with the final boss?"
The wolf's tail thumped against the ground with more force.
"Woof!"
Patrick sighed, resigned.
"It seems we passed the test."
Darian ran out to hug his father.
"Daddy, you're... wow! You befriended a deity! Or at least that's what I thought when I heard the wolf growls."
Patrick let out a small chuckle.
"Yes, son. It seems that thinking only of protecting my family was more than enough."
Darian looked at the wolf with some fear. He hesitated for a few seconds before reaching out to pet it, carefully, almost holding his breath.
The wolf tilted its head, shook it gently, and without further ado, turned around. It walked a few steps and ventured into the mist until it disappeared, as if it had never been there.
"Oh. I was going to adopt him," Darian muttered, disappointed.
Patrick gave him a gentle pat on the head.
"Maybe we'll see him again someday. Now, let's keep going, please. I've worked up an appetite, and there are no animals around here."
Darian sighed but nodded.
"Okay. But if he comes back, I saw him first."
Patrick raised an eyebrow.
"Oh, really? You saw him first?"
"Yes. You were terrified, Dad."
Patrick placed a hand on his chest, exaggerating the gesture.
"Ah, you're breaking your father's heart." He ruffled the boy's hair vigorously.
"Daaaad! Stooop!"
Patrick laughed heartily, and for a moment, the mist, the monsters, and the danger seemed like things from another world.
He felt a gaze piercing him from the carriage.
He looked up to find Elara, arms crossed, watching him with an expression so withering it would have made even the mist wolf back down.
Patrick looked at Darian. He looked at the freshly messed-up hair. He looked back at Elara.
"...He just had a bath, didn't he?" he asked with a nervous smile.
Elara didn't answer. She didn't need to.
"Dad," Darian whispered. "Mom is scary."
Patrick gulped.
"Yes, son. And rightly so."
Darian giggled while Patrick, with extreme care, tried to smooth down his hair as if that could save him.
"Daddy is funny when he's scared." Darian covered his mouth with his hands to try and hide his giggles.
"Ahem. Let's move on."
The caravan continued its march, venturing deeper and deeper into the fog-covered region. Although the encounter had ended without violence, no one could shake the feeling that it hadn't been a warning, but an evaluation; one that continued to haunt their minds even after they had left it behind.
Finally, they reached the limit.
Beyond lay the unknown land, a territory rarely visited, where no one ventured unless they were a hopeless idiot, or a desperate people clinging to the hope of a better future.
As they moved forward, the mist closed behind them. With that, their lives might be a little better; but as they observed the new landscape, only one thought remained in their minds: survive at all costs.