Owl's Keep Eleven... Sweetbox.

 September 14th, 2199.

Sweetbox, 14 miles below The Pacific Trail.

In the time of early through late summer the coastal grasslands below the Pacific Trail ranged in temperatures that were almost as hot as some of the desert areas in the neighboring Maricopa, so whenever the stormy season seemed to sweep in early from the coast it was a much-needed relief by the time of early September, especially for the few mud huggers that lived near the small area known as Sweetbox. Mud huggers, people that lived underground in grass and dirt covered- man-made bunkers, there were only a sparse few left, some collapsed under the weight of the earth that lye on top of them, a few others were abandoned long ago when the occupants had long since grown tired of the grasslands and migrated to other areas. One man, in particular, had survived everything that nature in the grasslands had thrown at him, from floods to fires, from caravans of those damn obnoxious hoarders from Dewfork, driving wagon after wagon across the top of his bunker until he thought that the ceiling might just cave in, but Augustus Bartholomew Cuthbert had seen it all and prevailed, this season though something just felt different, the storms weren’t letting up, one after another had rolled over the grasslands, each one worse than the last. He had already had to cut three hunting trips short, and they weren’t even halfway through September.  Usually by now he had already had three or four successful hunts to his credit, out of most of the dwelling houses in the greater Sweetbox area, he was one of the most successful hunters there, and aside from the occasional run-in with two local women over the hills to the east of him his hunts usually went unchallenged, but thirty-two-year-old Althea Beatrice Hood and her pal Drusilla Pennington were for the most part plant eaters, and whenever the opportunity to sabotage one of Auggy’s fur traps to keep him from snaring and killing small game of the area for their meat and fur they couldn’t resist not only damaging his prized traps but many times they would outright destroy them.

The first time that Augustus had seen the three strange looking men on horseback, it was mid-morning, and he was walking the crown of Tinker’s Peak, a series of sharp pointed hills that cut through the northern edge of the grasslands, one of the storms that day that had rolled in from the Pacific Ocean, driven by moderately high winds had been beating at his back all morning, he was still a full three miles from his bunker when off in the distance he saw the three pull rein, stopping near an abandoned bunker, The entrance was almost completely covered with weeds Auggy had seen many strangers pass through the area before, but somehow his gut was telling him that these three were different, and not in a good way. He stayed below the line of sight, keeping his back toward the crown of Tinker’s Peak, the side of the hills would allow him to follow at a safe distance and still not be seen by the riders as he blended in with the background of the hillside. They stuck to the peak and rode the crown, he’d gathered to prevent anyone from approaching them, from the crown they could clearly see in any direction making it near impossible for anyone to sneak up on them. He kept his distance but tried to follow until they’d gotten so far ahead that he could no longer keep pace, so he waited for a time until they were completely out of sight before he turned and headed for home. He’d made note that the riders were headed towards the east away from the next leg of storms that were rolling into the grasslands, which were moving faster than he was, which meant to him that if he didn’t quicken his pace he was going to get caught in the middle of a downpour. He made it a full fifty yards from his bunker before the first raindrops hit him.

It was the loud crash of thunder that made him stop abruptly and turn his attention to the northeast in time to see that something had gotten the three riders attention and caused them to move down the side of the hill in the distance, stopping at the edge of the valley floor. Auggy felt his heart begin to pound in his chest when he saw the two small figures approach the riders on foot, he was much too far away to see clearly exactly what caused the exchange that would take place next.  With the wind pounding away at his back and the rain lashing across his face he could still focus enough to see the lead rider strike down the first figure, the second now frightened turned and ran in the opposite direction, the two rear riders ran them down quickly, and one jumped from their animal and quickly tied them up and threw them across the front of the first horse, they then turned and rode away disappearing over one of the peaks. Augustus knew in his gut that the two figures on foot were Althea Hood and her friend Drusilla, and friend, foe, or other, it didn’t matter, they were still two of his neighbors, and Auggy knew that if the one that had been cut down was still alive he simply had to help them.  He dropped his packs and almost stumbled and fell getting to the bottom of the hill, by the time he’d made it to Drusilla’s side he was almost soaking wet and the riders were nowhere to be seen. He knelt down beside of her and checked for a pulse, Drusilla was still very much alive but unconscious. He struggled to pick her up, never noticing that were more riders making their way down the hills to his back, He turned toward them just as they spotted him and began to quicken their pace.

Mox, Trip, and Ava all three pulled rein to see if Auggy had needed aid for the person he was carrying, he was just forty feet from them when he stumbled and fell with Drusilla still in his arms, Mox called out to him but all he could hear in return were muffled grunts. He cautiously got down from his horse while motioning to Trip and Ava to stay put, he went over to help Auggy to his feet. He put his arms under Drusilla to relieve the weight from Auggy’s so he could regain his balance.  He drew a deep breath, slowly exhaling a sigh of relief once he realized Mox and his friends meant no harm. Auggy looked up at the tall, lean young man as he took Drusilla up into his arms, he looked back up to the sky and then back at Mox.

“It’s gonna get ugly out here.” He said.

Mox studied the skyline, slowly nodding in agreement.

“Is there someplace around here where we can get out of this weather?”  Mox asked Auggy.

“There is a hallowed out burrow in back of one of the deserted bunkers near my place, maybe twenty feet from it, it’s still really solid, we can bed down your animals in there, we can all fit in my bunker til this nasty storm passes,” Auggy told them.

Over the rise of the nearest hill to their back amidst the faint echoes of thunder, Mox detected a familiar sound, The shriek of a cantankerous voice yelling at the top of its lungs accompanied a familiar crack of a whip, but when Mox saw the lumbering forms of Bull and Tak lumbering over the round of the hill he fought back a smile, they weren’t going to Dewfork anymore.  Pilgrim was coming to Sweetbox.

~Scratch. A.B.T. Copyright © 2017~

Owl's Keep Ten... Riding The Storm Out.

It was the time of the rainy season along the coastal areas that often brought in the most unpredictable weather patterns in from out across the reaches of the Pacific Ocean.  It could be clear as a bell one minute and then a god awful storm front would roll in and douse everything for miles around in a torrential downpour, leaving anyone caught outside scrambling for shelter. Mox knew to keep track of weather patterns whenever he and Trip were away from Firebend and was familiar with most of the places where you could go to get out of a storm in most areas, he had traveled near Dewfork before, he knew how to get there from Fishbin, but had never ventured into the actual township before. It was a place where mostly hoarders lived, and not many people from the outlying areas went there unless they knew somebody that lived in the small trade village, hoarders were generally viewed as being off center and unpredictable and could become violent with strangers if provoked. Dewfork however, was still a long ways off from their position below The pacific trail, from where they had started from the Atteli’s caves, Mox lead them to the Diamond fork where the one trail tapered off into three, which he led them along the northernmost part that took them even farther away from the Pacific Trail making them almost impossible to spot from above even if Furlong did manage to catch up with them.

The low, distant rumblings from out over The Pacific took his attention away from their travels long enough for him to see the large storm system coming toward them. He knew it would be almost over them within two-possibly three hours, and that they were going to need to find shelter soon. Mox knew that it would mean risking moving to higher ground and possibly being spotted, they could have sought out another cave or simply push the animals that much harder to reach an abandoned fishing shack that was farther to the northeast of them along the same trail that they were presently on, rather than deal with the possibility of running into Furlong and his crew, they all agreed that the fishing shack would be their best option so they pushed the horses farther northeast. They rode a full three miles along the outer trail, and they turned farther inland before they made it to the fishing shack, there was one out building where they could secure the horses, and they made it to shelter just before the storm hit them at full throttle, Furlong, however, at a full five miles behind Mox, Trip, and Ava hadn’t faired so well. The downpour had caught his crew out in the open, and they’d lost two pack animals into a deep ravine alongside the Pacific Trail, they had broken legs and both animals had become mortally wounded, and when they’d fallen both had thrown most of their supplies into the now muddy terrain.

The only possible cover within range was a group of trees up on a bluff overlooking the Pacific Trail, Furlong pushed them up to the trees and decided to ride out the storm there, he would send someone back down to the ravine to recover as much of their supplies as possible, but that would have to wait for later. They had put a full three days ride between them and Fishbin and were at the point where the Pacific Trail was beginning to lead them into the higher elevations, and still, there was no sign of Mox and his two companions. Furlong had begun to question his own instincts and started to wonder about his own decision-making on several occasions. The storm had moved in on them suddenly and caught them with their pants down and Furlong knew it, all they could do then was to ride it out and pray for the best. The rain had lessened only slightly, but to the point where he could walk away from the trees for a short distance to survey the sky, there were black and gray clouds looming as far as the eye could see, but the sounds of rolling thunder told him that the worst was yet to come. Thor's Towers were too far back to reach before the brunt of the storm would be on top of them, He had to make a decision, leave half of their supplies and push farther inland to seek out better shelter, or stand their ground and risk further loss, the thunder grew closer almost forcing his hand, he told his men to mount up they would head for a place called Rainfort, there were no caves there but some rather large rock formations that could at least provide shelter from the winds and maybe even the rain itself.  Mox was going to slip away from him.

The wind lashed at the fishing shack and the out building, and the rain pounded everything around them, but they stayed inside and were dry, in the brief lulls that the storm afforded him Mox would run back and forth to the out building to check on the horses, He cautiously moved up beside of Ava’s appaloosa as it began to fidget nervously, something just told Mox that it wasn’t the storm making the mare nervous. He stepped outside the out building and ignoring the wind began to look around, there was something out there in the storm, and although he couldn’t tell what exactly he knew that they definitely weren’t alone. Five shapes began to come into focus in the form of shadows, and Mox knew immediately that it was a pack of feral dogs, there were only five, but they were all fairly large, he went back into the shed to get Trip and to gather their weapons, he was fairly certain that he wouldn’t be able to take out all five dogs by himself. Trip took the northeast corner of the out building and knelt down on one knee to load the crossbow, while Mox took the opposite corner.  Mox waved his finger in the general direction to where he last saw the pack of wild dogs, and almost immediately Trip spotted them slowly coming forward through the wind and rain and raised the crossbow to fix his aim on the closest dog in the pack. He held his breath for a time until it was within range, and he let fly his first bolt, and it struck the lead dog right in the chest and dropped it, Mox took out the second with a shot that landed directly in the second dog's skull, the remaining three hesitated and began to circle, it afforded them both ample time to reload, a loud crash of thunder caused the remaining three dogs to turn and run, They both agreed that they would be needing to stand watch over the horses for the remainder of the night.

~Scratch. A.B.T. Copyright © 2017~

Owl's Keep Nine... Escape to BlackRock Beach.

The city watch of Fishbin had always kept the peace, even when hostiles came wandering in and tried to stir up trouble, fear of what the city watch and constable Clinton Swift had all the proper resources to put them in chains and lock them away in a cell for days or in some cases weeks on end, even guys like Furlong knew better than to try anything even remotely hostile.  He had two of his lieutenants with him when he began to make his rounds through the shops along Trader's Row gathering information on any possible strangers in the area and when he finally had gotten word that Mox Kile and Trip Anders had been spotted traveling through the area with an unknown female that he’d made a beeline for The Brass Bottom Trade Center.  It wasn’t until early afternoon when Ferral first heard the heavy boots walking on the floorboards right outside the front door of his shop that he knew for certain who was going to be coming in. He was rather tall, not as tall as Ferral, but still taller than most, and while Ferral hadn’t ever had much in the way of personal business with him, like everyone else in Fishbin- he just knew it was Morg Creel’s henchman Furlong.  It was the long fiery red hair, the dark menacing eyes, the stern somber way that he carried himself that made people wary of him, he walked into Ferral’s shop and slowly scanned the room for any other people, with a slight hand gesture, he motioned for the two smaller men with him to stay by the door, Ferral eyed him cautiously as he walked up to the counter.

“I understand that Mox Kile and Trip Anders have been through here, any idea where they might have gotten off to?” Furlong asked.

“Yep, They traded some sharpening stones for some dried goods and a hot meal, said they were on their way to the Diablo range, going to hunt large game there,”  Ferral answered flatly.

Furlong looked him up and down, studying his demeanor carefully, Ferral was a tough nut to crack for anyone, and terribly difficult to read.

“Were they alone?” He asked.

“Nope, they had some blonde girl with them, she didn’t talk much though, from what I gathered they were going to help her get to Sawtooth to meet up with a friend of hers there before heading up to the Diablo’s. The trail ain’t no place for a good-looking young girl like her to be traveling alone, you never know what kind of cutthroats may be hiding around the next bend.”  Ferral told him.

He turned away from Ferral and looked out the front window and considered his options, Morg Creel really wanted him to come back with someone’s hide, four of their men were dead, and he was fairly certain that the unknown blonde girl was a person of great interest and would more than likely at least have some kind of information that would tell him who killed them, but Furlong knew given the temperament of Ferral it would not be wise at the time to press the issue, and he didn’t dare test his luck with the city watch, they knew good and well who he was, who he worked for and were watching his every move.  Without so much as another word he motioned for the two men by the door to return to the pack, he turned briefly before making his exit to eye Ferral one last time, he knew for certain that Ferral, Mox, and Trip were lifelong friends, it was common knowledge in Fishbin and the surrounding areas that Ferral and Mox’s mother grew up in the same village and were in many ways like family, but still, although he suspected that Ferral was flat out lying to his face he didn’t have any information that would conclusively prove it. He opened the door and stepped back out onto the wooden walkway, he nodded down the street further to the two men, they needed to look elsewhere, they weren’t going to get any information out of Ferral.

 They made their way along the wooden sidewalks of Trader’s Row until they came upon a small group of street urchins who remembered seeing Mox, Trip and the girl heading down to BlackRock Beach, Furlong knew right then, the road to Sawtooth lead off to the south/southwest, they wouldn’t go to BlackRock unless they were hiding there or heading in the opposite direction, he paused a moment to consider the prospect. The entire length of BlackRock ran east and west, if you went further west the cliffs were too high to get back above it to the trails, and the beach itself would narrow to the point where you would eventually have to cross large sections of water just to continue on the path that you were taking. If you went east, however, there were several wide trails from the beach leading up that could be used to get back onto the Pacific Trail and continue on from there to wherever you were going. After giving the situation serious thought Furlong concluded that it would be best for his pack to go back the way they came along the Pacific Trail, sooner or later Mox and his two companions would have to turn back up there, and Furlong and his pack would be waiting for them.  Unknown to Furlong however, was Mox had a whole other plan of his own, he had already considered the possibility that someone could have seen them returning to BlackRock, and that they might have told Furlong and that he would possibly double back to the Pacific Trail and return the way they came, what Furlong nor anyone else knew however, was that Mox, Trip, and Ava, wouldn’t be on foot once they’d reached Thor’s Tower’s, there they had three horse’s and supplies waiting for them.

They walked along BlackRock Beach for over four hours, they passed people going to and from Fishbin less and less the farther they traveled from town, Ferral had told Mox just before they’s left Fishbin for the towers that his friend Sassy Federline would be waiting in the beach caves below the towers that only a few of the locals knew about that everyone called the Attili’s that held access to the Pacific Trail from inside of the caves themselves.  You could lead the horse’s single file up a series of trails that ran inside of the caves that would eventually lead to another opening that led out just below the Pacific, it would save them precious time from going back out the way they came in and moving up and around the cliffs.  From there Mox would lead them along a lesser traveled trail that began just below the Pacific that would allow them to have a treeline to keep them concealed from anyone who was traveling above them, eventually, it would lead them to the northeast in the direction of Dewfork.  The locals called the cove that the caves overlooked Mutiny Bay, and when Mox saw it forming in the distance he knew that they were getting close to Thor’s Towers, he also knew that Furlong and his crew weren’t far off on the Pacific Trail so he was going to have to think on the fly if they were to stay ahead of them. When they finally reached the edge of the rocky shores of Mutiny Bay, Mox lead them up the trail that would take them to the Attili caves, where Sassy Federline was waiting with the horses and supplies.

They moved up the narrow path toward the Attili’s when Mox saw Sassy poke her head out to see who was coming, once he saw her-he vaguely remembered meeting her once or twice before in his dealings with Ferral, she was kind of short, with brilliant long blonde hair that she kept pulled back into a ponytail, and was incredibly fit, and as he recalled she was usually barefoot. When she saw Mox leading up the path, her blue eyes lit up.  She walked out of the cave to greet them and took Mox’s hand and gave him a warm greeting. She told them that they were the first  people that she’d seen in the past two hours and that the horses were well rested and ready to go, but they only had two or three hours of daylight left so if they wanted to stay ahead of Furlong they could only rest up for a few minutes before they had to leave for Dewfork.  Each horse had saddlebags on the side full of dried goods and extra lead shot and two Flintstones for making fires, just above the stirrups there were long leather lined quivers filled with extra bolts for their crossbows. It seemed as though even when doing it on the fly- Ferral had thought of everything, now Mox just had to keep them ahead of Furlong and his crew. after several minutes, they thanked Sassy for her assistance and began to lead the horses up the inside trails that would bring them out below the Pacific. When they exited the caves the sun was still reasonably high on the horizon so they knew they still had, at the very least- two full hours of daylight left, and Mox had already thought of a place for them to spend the night, but they would have to get moving to reach it before nightfall.  Furlong wasn’t far behind them.

 

~Scratch. A.B.T. Copyright © 2017~

 

Owls Keep Eight... The Journal of Jonathon James Abernathy

 

It was apparent right from the very first time he opened the cover, that the journal was going to become an object of interest for some, and once he’d figured out just what it was, Ferral realized that someone would more than likely come searching for it sooner or later. He also knew that he wasn’t going to keep it in his shop, which was why, shortly after obtaining it, he took the journal to a different location for safe keeping. Out of all the people that he knew, he knew that Mox- if anyone, could figure out what it all meant.  Through the back door of the store he led them down  an outer winding stone staircase that extended all the way down to BlackRock Beach, there were spots where the stones were crumbling so he warned them to be wary of their footing. once at the bottom they passed through a series of old ships that had run ashore and keeled over on BlackRock decades ago and now all that remained of the once mighty sea faring vessels were empty rusted out skeletal shells that housed homeless street urchins of Fishbin at night. He would take them all the way down to Fishbin’s waterfront warehouse district where he had a secured storage place, Mox couldn’t help but wonder what had struck Ferral so that would make him take such precautions in hiding such a book, he couldn’t wait to read it.  It was mid-afternoon when they finally reached pier 22, they walked along the docks with Ferral carefully watching behind them to ensure that they weren’t being followed.  Finally, they walked across a small vacant lot to a long red brick building with roll up doors in front.

Behind them, there was a slow rolling fog building that began to block out the sun, soon there would be a storm blowing in from across the ocean. Ferral unlocked the far left man door and swung it open inward and all four stepped inside, and he closed it behind them and locked it. walking over to the far wall he lit two oil lamps and began to pace along the length of a dusty old wooden bookcase, finally he stopped somewhere in the middle and began feverishly searching through the titles.  He pulled a leather spined book from the case  and studied the cover.

“Yeah, this is it, Moxie.”  Ferral said.

He lay the book on a table-top and instructed them to each grab a chair while he lit yet another oil lamp.

“Read Moxie, read it and tell me what you make of it. I’ll go get us something to drink.”

Ferral retrieved a pitcher of cold water from the next room, and upon returning poured each of them a glass but coaxed Trip and Ava away from the table to leave Mox with his task.  He read what he could in the journal, but many parts were illegible due to slurred or hurried handwriting, but thanks to the parts that were readable he was able to piece together a bit of a story, a very disturbing story. Mostly Abernathy’s journal tended to the actual expedition where he had 22 men with him all with pack mule’s and horses, they ventured up to a place behind Copper’s Mill called Arcvale peak, one of the tallest mountains in the range of Klamath.  A little more than halfway up a bad snowstorm boxed them in and the expedition couldn’t move through the deep snow, one by one the members had begun to freeze to death in the blizzard like conditions, and even Abernathy himself fell ill, and stopped writing in the journal for a time, and didn’t start again for almost fifty-one days, when he woke up in a strange place. Curiously, nowhere in the text did he mention the name of the place where he ended up, only that he woke up in a hospital bed and that he still had all of his belongings, but the journal itself was missing for a time. A week later, he discovered that one of the hospital wards had hidden it under his mattress with two pencils. there were three men doing ward duty that Abernathy had contact with, one of which that told him that they had been taken prisoner over a year ago while on a hunting trip, and forced to work in a farming camp run by militants that ran the township.

Abernathy mentioned three names in the journal, Tillerman, Milner and Stiles, and from what Mox was gathering from the book was they were planning an escape to get away from the labor camp. others before them had tried similar escapes, but the militant leader sent tracking teams to bring them back or kill them before they could alert anyone to what was happening there.  In one instance, it was said that an escapee made it all the way to the Ash Valley before they were hunted down by the trackers and killed. No one had attempted escape since, according to Abernathy they had outlined a brief plan to him, and he’d written it all down, they were all from three different sections of the hospital and all had planned it so they wouldn’t be missed for at least seven hours giving them a head start when they had finally made their move. Once at the bottom of the mountain range they would split up and go off across the grasslands and valley floor in three different directions, Tillerman knew of a man that could possibly get them across a narrow part of the Pacific Ocean to a small group of islands called The Storm Vale, where they would gather resources to go back with a lot more people to perhaps make a move on the militants.  After reading for the better part of three hours, the writing in the journal broke down into several pages of what could only be called illustrations and partial maps and then abruptly ended altogether, leaving Mox to try to make some sense of it all.

If the place that Abernathy had ended up in the mountains had indeed turned out to be Owl’s Keep, it seemed more likely than not, that it had somewhere in time had fallen into a military state, and should be avoided at all costs, and anyone who had been unfortunate enough to have ended up there seemed more than willing to risk their lives to escape from it.  Still, a part deep inside Mox was curious enough to want to see it with his own eyes, he spent his entire childhood trying to gather bits and pieces of information about Owl’s Keep, and it had always been a mystery for the ages for him, his own private holy grail. and now he had these pieces of this tantalizing mystery at his fingertips, and he wanted to do something with it. He shared his thoughts on the journal with the others, and together they began to figure out that just maybe the three trackers didn’t even know about the journal, and it was entirely possible that it was the escapees themselves that they were after, there was nothing in the book information wise damning enough to chase after it, it was more likely that they wanted to silence the escapee’s from doing whatever it was that they thought they were going to do. On through the night while the others slept Mox toiled over the pages of text and half maps again and again looking for something-anything that he may have overlooked on his first reading, when he came across a single word barely legible written on the very last page of partial maps up in the corner in an area indicating what he took to be a mountain range was a single word.  “Majik”

The next morning Ferral led them all back to Fishbin, taking the same beach route back to his shop, Mox secured the journal in a cloth bag and kept it tightly under his arm as they walked along BlackRock beach. Over and over again, several thoughts about what he’d read in the book kept moving across his thoughts, until finally he had struck upon a rather unique idea that he hadn’t considered until then. there was one person that wasn’t in this picture as yet, one person that may have been able to help them make some sense of the illustrations and half maps.  They walked on for almost two and one half hours before they began to see regular streams of people walking on and above the beach, the tell-tale sign that there were getting close to Fishbin again, along the stone stairway as they climbed up Mox inquired as to whether or not Ferral could still help them procure what would now be three horses rather than simply two. after all, he and Trip would both agree that Ava was one of them now, and they simply couldn’t leave her to fend off Furlong’s gang of cutthroats by herself. Ferral lead the way back up the crumbling stone stairway and opened the back door of the shop and motioned them all inside, pushing aside and forgoing any profits from this visit, Ferral knew that this was simply too important to place a business tag on it.

“Mama’s making you all some breakfast Moxie, I’ll make the arrangements for those horse’s in a bit.” 

He sat down in a chair at the table across from his three visitors.  

“But first you gotta tell me Moxie- what’s your plan, son? don’t tell me you don’t have one.” Ferral asked.

Mox studied the faces at the table staring back at him.

“Well there are questions about this journal that I don’t have enough information to answer, But I think Trip and I may have met someone awhile back, and if we can find him he may be able to help us fill in some of the blanks.”      

“So we aren’t going to Sawtooth, are we?” Ava asked.

“Or the Diablo mountains to hunt larger game?” Trip added.

“Nope.”  Mox concluded.  “We’re going to Dewfork to find Pilgrim.”

~Scratch.. A.B.T. Copyright © 2017~

Owl's Keep Seven... The Path to Fishbin.

 

FISHBIN

Fishbin itself was a town of about ten thousand people moving to and from it at any given time, traders would come to barter there from miles around in all directions, and although it wasn’t a major metropolis, it may as well have been for Ava who had never been to such a densely populated area ever in her lifetime. They took the back way into town, following the trail up and along the cliffs of Cove’s Face that would take them up to Fishbin. The path was quite wide and one that several traders would take into town several times a day, the sheer wall of Cove’s Face went straight up into the air for what seemed like two hundred feet, where many buildings could be seen perched at the edge of the cliff along the very top, Ava looking straight up, thought that she would get a kink in her neck from doing so, the closer they had gotten to the top of the path the more traders that they encountered going in the opposite direction. Soon they reached the very top and the path turned into a series of makeshift steps that took them right into the alley that would spill directly into Trader's Row, the main bartering center of Fishbin. They moved through the long crowd of people that lined the walkway of Trader's Row until they came to a fancily decorated shop called the Brass Bottom Trade Center. There were three large decorated windows in the front  of the shop and two large wooden double doors with brass handles that formed the entrance, Mox opened the front doors and a loud cowbell clanged, alerting Ferral that he had a potential customer.

There were two large long adjoining rooms that were around thirty feet from end to end and were separated by a half wall running down the middle, there were long heavy wooden tables with neatly placed merchandise on them, forming narrow aisles in between, used coats and different types of clothing, old work boots and shoes underneath, and mended blankets, hats and scarfs. There were rolls of string, twine and wire and various thicknesses of rope. on the walls hung shelves that were full of cans and glass jars filled with marbles, some steel shot, and nails of varying sizes, along with other odd’s and ends, there were oil lamps, hand twirled torches and hand tools hung on the walls at the end of the shelves, Hammers, axe’s and hatchets, but the high end, prized and most valuable items like weapons and fur traps hung on the wall behind the business counter in the other room. There was also a mid-sized area with six round wooden tables and chairs that served as a dining hall where Ferral’s wife would serve daily meals that she had prepared, there was a chalk board that hung above the counter which served as the food menu. Flint rock and tool sharpening stones were always extremely valuable for bartering in Fishbin, and Ferral always had a high turnover rate with them, and they were tough to keep in stock because of high demand. He knew  that Mox and Trip always seemed to know how to find the best flint rock, and Ferral was always eager to see what they had for trade.

Being the owner/proprietor of the Brass Bottom Trade Center, Ferral was indeed one of the most intimidating shopkeepers in Fishbin, and all the traders of every size, shape and color, that came and went throughout the business hours there knew better than to test his temperament. He towered above most at well over six foot ten inches, with a huge barrel chest and a round face adorned with long flowing black hair with dark blue eyes, massive hands the size of dinner plates made it all the easier for him to get a firm grip on any offender that happened into his establishment causing trouble. He came in from the back room when he’d heard the clanging of the cowbell, and when he saw Mox and Trip a broad smile spread across his round face, But when he saw Ava, he gave them both a puzzled look. He nervously went to the front door, opening it and sticking his head out the door, trying to look casual as he looked in both directions up and down the length of Trader's Row. He closed the door and locked it, putting out the closed sign before dropping the window shades, then it was Mox’s turn to look confused. Ferral turned to face them, casting a suspicious eye on Ava.

“A lot has been happening in Fishbin in the past couple of days.” He told them. “Come on in the dining room, I’ll tell ma to get ya’s some lunch.”

He sat them down at a table in the corner of the dining hall before disappearing into the back room to find his wife. Mox and Trip both looked at Ava and pondered the strange look that Ferral had given her, it didn’t take them long to piece together that Furlong had arrived in town well ahead of them and had been asking questions about strangers, but something else came tugging at his suspicions, there was something else, something even more unsettling that he could feel, his thoughts returned to the strange riders on horseback on the Temblor Traverse, this had something to do with them, he could just feel it.  Ferral’s wife brought them hot soup with fresh bread and a platter of freshly cooked shrimp which was bountiful in Fishbin, Ferral bartered with the local fisherman a great deal and often got the best catch that was up for early trade many times before other merchants even got to the docks, Ferral always arrived early to barter to get the best deals. They all sat quietly enjoying their lunch with little conversation until Ferral reappeared in the dining hall and sat down in a vacant chair across from Mox.

“That prick Furlong is in town, but I’m guessing you already know that Moxie.” Ferral said.

Mox nodded but said nothing. 

“There’s something else too-“  Ferral added nervously.

“Three rider’s on horseback, kinda looking like soldiers? looking for a man, maybe?” Mox asked.

“Yeah, that was odd enough I suppose, but there were a couple of guys came in here trying to trade off something they found on a dead guy near Covemire.” Ferral answered.

Mox gave him a curious look.

“There’s something else too-“  Ferral added nervously.

“Three rider’s on horseback, kinda looking like soldiers? looking for a man, maybe?” Mox asked.

“Yeah, that was odd enough  I suppose, but there were a couple of guys that came in here trying to trade off something they found on a dead guy near Covemire.” Ferral answered.

Mox gave him a curious look.

“It was a book Moxie, more than a book, it was a journal, now I suspect them feller’s didn’t know how to read because they obviously didn’t know what they had, otherwise they wouldn’t have pawned it off on me for the few pieces of half dead fruit and a couple of pieces of jerked beef that I gave them for it.”

“What was in the journal, Ferral?” Trip  asked.

“Well- I didn’t read the whole thing, but from what I did read it was the journal of an explorer name Johnathon James Abernathy, and from what I read he was leading an expedition up past the Klamath mountain range in search of Owl’s Keep. Moxie- I read enough to know-" he paused to look out the window at the crowd slowly moving up and down the lengths of Traders Row. “Moxie, I think this guy Abernathy?”  Ferral nervously paused again.

Mox, Trip and Ava all three leaned toward Ferral in anticipation of what he was about to say.

“Moxie, I think Abernathy may have found Owl’s Keep, and them three riders? something, in my gut, is telling me that they’re looking for this journal.”

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