There were mice in Lockhaven that were quietly whispering and questioning the boldness and foolishness of Marlie; leading her Patrol into the wilderness so early in the Spring. Everything was still frozen. It was only the brilliant blue sky that signaled a changing of the winds, a window in the season between the deathly cold of Winter, and the moister air of Spring that brought snow and rain to the Territories. It was chancy, but Marlie didn’t hesitate. The Patrol wore snowshoes made of acorn caps to travel across the snow cover, and tunneled alcoves into drifts to hide and rest. Snow goggles fashioned by George kept their eyes dry and unfrozen. The cloak a Guard wore became a warm blanket; a barrier against the cold.<br/><br/>The roads east were rough and unkempt, and generally unmarked. Winter was never kind to the trade network, but Marlie’s team could waste no time in setting up markers, and with the coming of more Spring storms and further snow cover, everything about the land would change again anyway. Long journeys such as this were all about efficiency. As much distance as possible had to be covered each and every day with only as much rest as met minimum requirements. The Patrol navigated by marching towards the sun each morning. The hardest part was finding water. In many instances the Patrol was forced to be content with licking ice. Eating was bland and monotonous, narrowed to the offerings of coniferous trees, cones and juniper berries.<br/><br/>East of Longpier the land turns marshy and swampy, with labyrinthine tall grass and hidden sinkholes and bogs, riddled with wetland creatures that, while not predators of mice, could certainly make their travel a gauntlet of living hell. This terrain was the reason Marlie had taken the chance of departing Lockhaven so early, and it had paid off. The wetlands were still frozen, which meant they were easy to traverse and free of animals. In an emergency, mice could also escape animals by running out onto thin ice where heavier hunters often fell through. This was a double-edged sword: if a mouse fell into near freezing water death was almost certain. Being pulled from the water only led to a slower, sicklier death. With the temperatures still so cold the swamps were frozen solid, thus the Patrol had avoided the single worst danger of the whole journey.<br/><br/>The isolated settlement of Wolfpointe lies on the eastern edge of the wetlands, and from here the land turns more rocky and forested all the way to the boundary of the Mouse Territories. Most outsiders avoid Wolfpointe if they can, and Marlie’s Patrol was no different. Mice from Wolfpointe were grizzled and xenophobic. Sophisticates from the large settlements called them devolved barbarians. Really, unless forced to go there, outsiders never went to Wolfpointe, and the locals preferred it that way.<br/><br/>The boundary of the Territories isn’t exact, but happens to run where the Patrols pour the Scent Border. It occurs at places in the land where the forest stops, yielding to more open ground with only copses of trees for safety. There are no guard towers, just burrows and other places that show previous Patrol activity, and the telltale staves of the barrels, charred on the inside from being burned, left spread open like a sacrificial flower. These were the only markers that told the Patrol where the border had been previously laid.<br/><br/>The Patrol had found an excellent place from which to operate: a rise in the ground forming a ridge, with thick deciduous forest in both directions facing the more open ground. It was clear this location had been found before, as a sacrificial flower marked the high point in the ridge. The coup was short lived however, as the Patrol ran into its first problem: the journey had been so long and cold that the Scent, normally the viscosity of syrup, had frozen solid. There was only one bright side. In its solid state it didn’t smell anywhere near as bad as it did when a liquid. Somehow the Scent needed to be warmed back up to a liquid state so it could be poured, but that was far from the only problem.<br/><br/>In the early hours of the morning of their arrival, a frosty fog shrouded the open ground sweeping away from the ridge. Trotting footsteps could be heard making the distinctive sound of breaking the seal of the snow covering the field. As the footsteps came closer panting could be heard. Soon, the outline of a lean wolf formed in the fog, and a new chill came over the camp…one of fear. The wolf hadn’t yet spotted the mice, but Lucretzia could easily discern that it was on the prowl for food. Then sharp little yelps could be heard, and the first wolf was joined by her two pups, just old enough to start accompanying their mother on hunting trips. The Patrol would make a very satisfying meal. Worse, wolves lived and hunted in packs, so there were bound to be more around.