Eheard had been looking forward to the trip for months.  Every year in late summer the village elders organized a caravan to trek over to Witham, the closest medium-size town in Rulan province, to trade.  By tradition, all the senior apprentices went with it.  This was part of their landcraft training, of which they had to have a basic knowledge before they could qualify as practitioners.  They were taught how to hunt small animals, how to clear farmland ditches, which fruit to pick, how to handle a plow, and what berries and roots were poisonous, along with the basics of making camp in the wild.

Even the fact that Obron would be a traveling companion for three weeks had not lessened Edeard's enthusiasm.  He finally was going to get out of Ashwell.  Sure, he had been to all the local farms, but never farther than half a day's travel.  The caravan meant he would see a lot more of Querencia: the mountains, people other than the villagers he'd lived among for fifteen years, forests.  It was a chance to see how others did things, explore new ideas.  There was so much waiting for him out there.  He was convinced it was going to be fantastic.

The reality almost lived up to his expectations.  Yes, Obron was a pain, but not too much.  Ever since Edeard's success with the ge-cats, the constant hassle had not ended, but it certainly had eased off.  They did not speak as friends, but on the journey out Obron had been almost civil.  Edeard suspected that was partially because of Melzar, who was the caravan master and had made it very clear before they left that he would not tolerate any trouble.

"It might seem like this is some kind of holiday," Melzar told the assembled apprentices in the village hall the night before they departed.  "But remember, this is part of your formal education.  I expect you to work hard and learn.  If any of you cause me any problems, you will be sent back to Ashwell right away.  If any of you slack off or do not reach what I consider a satisfactory level of landcraft, I will inform your Master and you will be dropped back a year from qualification.  Understood?"

"Yes, sir," the apprentices muttered grudgingly.  There were a lot of smirks hidden from Melzar as they filed out.

They had taken five days to reach Witham.  There were seventeen apprentices and eight adults in the caravan.  Three big carts carried goods and food; over thirty farm beasts were driven along with them.  Everyone rode ge-horses; for some apprentices, it was the first time they'd ever been up on the animals.  Melzar quickly assigned Edeard to help tutor them.  That allowed him to open up conversations with lads who had ignored him before; after all, he was the youngest senior apprentice in Ashwell.  But out on the road they began to accept him as an equal rather than the freaky boy about whom Obron always complained.  Melzar also entrusted him with controlling the ge-wolves they used to keep guard.

"You're better than all of us at guiding those brutes, lad," he said as they made camp the first night.  "Make sure they do their job properly.  Keep three of them with us, and I want the other four patrolling around outside."

"Yes, sir, I can do that."  It wasn't even a boast; those were simple orders.

Talk that night among the apprentices was of bandits and wild tribes, each of them doing their best to tell the most horrific stories.  Alcie and Genril topped everyone with tales of the cannibal tribe that supposedly lived in the Talman Mountains.  Edeard did not mention that his own parents had been killed while on a caravan, but everyone knew that, anyway.  He was thrown a few glances to check how he was reacting.  His nonchalance earned him quiet approval.