And off they set out! The frost-covered plains were a cool respite from the steamy jungle. Stubborn patches of grass were poking up green through the white, though, impatiently pushing the winter away and making way for spring. Bokken's place was supposedly pretty much due east from Lawrence's trading post, according to the man. On the way the group spied one of the trappers who worked the region in the distance, clad warmly in furs and carrying a bundle of the same. He made no move to approach the riders, however, on the contrary turning away from them and disappearing from sight soon after he was spotted.<br/><br/>The journey to Bokken's took only a few hours. It was a homely little hut surrounded by a quaint fenced garden. However, the placed looked run down and abandoned. The house was in poor condition with visible holes in the shingled roof and cobwebs stretching over the rotting door and broken windows. The garden was overrun with weeds and the chickens had free run of the place, apparently domesticated because they remained even through the picket fence was falling apart in places. Scattered across the soil were chicken bones and even the withered dry carcass of an unlucky fox could be seen partially covered by weeds.<br/><br/>With a loud crash one of the wheels of Marisa's cart sunk into a pothole, almost knocking her off as the vehicle came to a sudden stop. "Hush," she quieted her horse, which was beginning to neigh loudly, and hopped off to take a look at the damage, shaking her head.