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The cave was chill and gloomy in the gray dawn, despite the crackling fire. Goldmoon and Tasslehoff were fixing breakfast. Riverwind stood in the back of the cave, shaking out Goldmoon’s fur cloak. Tanis glanced at him. The Plainsman had been about to say something to Goldmoon as Tanis entered, but fell silent, contenting himself with staring at her meaningfully as he continued his work. Goldmoon kept her eyes lowered, her face pale and troubled. The barbarian regrets having let himself go last night, Tanis realized.

“There is not much food, I’m afraid,” Goldmoon said, tossing cereal into a pot of boiling water.

“Tika’s larder wasn’t well stocked,” Tasslehoff added in apology. “We’ve got a loaf of bread, some dried beef, half a moldy cheese, and the oatmeal. Tika must eat her meals out.”

“Riverwind and I didn’t bring any provisions,” Goldmoon said. “We really didn’t expect to make this trip.”

Tanis was about to ask her more about her song and the staff, but the others started waking up as they smelled food. Caramon yawned, stretched, and stood up. Walking over to peer into the cook-pot, he groaned. “Oatmeal? Is that all?”

“There’ll be less for dinner.” Tasslehoff grinned. “Tighten your belt. You’re gaining weight anyhow.”

The big man sighed dismally.

The sparse breakfast was cheerless in the cold dawn. Sturm, refusing all offers of food, went outside to keep watch. Tanis could see the knight, sitting on a rock, staring gloomily at the dark clouds that trailed wispy fingers along the still water of the lake. Caramon ate his share of the food quickly, gulped down his brother’s portion, and then appropriated Sturm’s when the knight walked out. Then the big man sat, watching wistfully while the rest finished.

“You gonna eat that?” he asked, pointing to Flint’s share of bread. The dwarf scowled. Tasslehoff, seeing the warrior’s eyes roam over to his plate, crammed his bread into his mouth, nearly choking himself in the process. At least it kept him quiet, Tanis thought, glad for the respite from the kender’s shrill voice. Tas had been teasing Flint unmercifully all morning, calling him “Seamaster” and “Shipmate,” asking him the price of fish, and how much he would charge to ferry them back across the lake. Flint finally threw a rock at him, and Tanis sent Tas down to the lake to scrub out the pans.

The half-elf walked to the back of the cave.

“How are you this morning, Raistlin?” he asked. “We’re going to have to be moving out soon.”

“I am much better,” the mage replied in his soft, whispering voice. He was drinking some herbal concoction of his own making. Tanis could see small, feathery green leaves floating in steaming water. It gave off a bitter, acrid odor and Raistlin grimaced as he swallowed it.

Tasslehoff came bounding back into the cave, pots and tin plates clattering loudly. Tanis gritted his teeth at the noise, started to reprimand the kender, then changed his mind. It wouldn’t do any good.

Flint, seeing the tension on Tanis’s face, grabbed the pots from the kender and began packing them away. “Be serious,” the dwarf hissed at Tasslehoff. “Or I’ll take you by the topknot and tie you to a tree as a warning to all kender—”

Tas reached out and plucked something from the dwarf’s beard. “Look!” the kender held it up gleefully. “Seaweed!” Flint, roaring, made a grab for the kender, but Tas skipped out of his way agilely.

There was a rustling sound as Sturm shoved aside the brush covering the doorway. His face was dark and brooding.

“Stop this!” Sturm said, glowering at Flint and Tas, his moustaches quivering. His dour gaze turned on Tanis. “I could hear these two clear down by the lake. They’ll have every goblin in Krynn on us. We’ve got to get out of here. Well, which way are we headed?”

An uneasy silence fell. Everyone stopped what he was doing and looked at Tanis, with the exception of Raistlin. The mage was wiping his cup out with a white cloth, cleaning it fastidiously. He continued working, eyes downcast, as though totally uninterested.

Tanis