Rowan crouched in the underbrush at the fringe of the Cormanthor overlooking the vast moor known as the Cold Field which marked the southern border of Harrowdale and the norther boundary of Scaredale. She had seen three travelers skirting their way along the eaves of the forest, heading north from the Dun Hills, which caught her attention because it wasn’t a typical route, also one of those travelers was a female drow. She had followed them covertly for most of the day, but now that twilight was fading to night, they were settling in to make camp, unwisely choosing a location exposed to the cold winds which howled off the moor. However, those winds served to carry their conversations to her, but deaden the little noise she made from their perspective, so she could spy on them all the better. Most of what she heard was trivial, revolving around how long it would take to reach the Velarswood, but then one statement stunned her, when the drow asked; “Shouldn’t we ask her to join us before you set up your ‘hut’?” “If you’re going to, you’d better, otherwise she will not be able to get in,” Coran replied to Taenya’s inquiry in a matter of fact tone. They had noticed the auburn haired woman shadowing them early in the day, but the drow priestess had recognized her as a ranger from Velarsburg she knew, so they made no attempt to discourage her, However, now that he was ready to activate his magical shelter she either had to join them or be locked outside it. Taking a few steps toward the concealed woman, Taenya called out loudly; “Rowan… It’s going to be a chilly night if you stay out there… why don’t you come join us?” Stunned that she had been detected, since there had been no sign until now, not to mention that the drow knew her name, Rowan hesitated for a few long minutes debating whether she should approach their camp, but in the end she realized that since they knew she was there, continuing to shadow them was pointless. “Taenya Aendryr, daughter of the Dark Maiden,” Rowan recognized the drow as she approached the trio in the fading light. She’d encountered the dark elf priestess of Eilistraee a few times in Velarsburg when she had come to town to trade for supplies, so now she knew how she’d known her name. “How did you know I was out there?” “We noticed you following us in the morning, but we had no reason to discourage you,” the drow cleric advised her, guiding her to the others and introduced them; “This is Mistale Nightsong, bard of Harrowdale Town, and Coran Dundragon, monk of the Sun Soul school. I was on a Run, a pilgrimage of sorts… I wanted to see the Standing Stone… but I fell into a trap laid by a male drow near the Halfaxe Trail and he saved me. We met Mistale, a previous traveling companion of Coran’s, in Ashabenford. They are escorting me home to the Velarswood.” “You’ve chosen a strange route, and a poor campsite,” Rowan advised, feeling the harsh cold winds off the moor. “These winds will continue all night… they never ceases… by morning it will be near freezing here. We’re better off in the shelter of the trees.” “Not a problem,” Coran stated flatly, as he produced the small metal sphere from his belt pouch, placing on the ground and speaking the command word “hut” in elvish. Suddenly the wind fell still around them, though they could hear it continuing to howl, and they were enclosed in a lightly shimmering transparent dome that both softly illuminated and warmed the area within it. “Well that’s a neat trick,” Rowan confessed with a mildly impressed smile, reaching out to touch the dome, but found her hand pass through without resistance. “But you might as well have lite a signal fire… We’ll be seen for miles.” “Really?” Coran smirked knowingly as he motioned for her to step outside and see for herself.