Doc, who had been travelling in one of the wagons bearing wounded and children, climbed with some difficulty onto his horse, which was tied to and followed the wagon, and joined with Pran, who rode beside the wagon bearing his wife, Rani and Zuic, and riding together, they moved forward through the ranks to join Ralph and Malina. By this time, the banks on either side of the river were beginning to steepen and hem in both road and river. They had entered the narrow valley of the Mirrow, following the river upstream and uphill as it wound its way through the crumpled foothills of the Alandiin Mountains.
The exposed bones of the land showed several odd features here: the hills overall had a blunted, worn look, yet the travellers could see from the valley cut by the river that hard unbroken dark grey stone lay beneath; yet near the surface, and especially in those places where the road had been cut into the riverbank, the stone lay in broken layers, like brittle shards of broken crockery.
Few trees grew on the surrounding hills, save for the odd stunted pine, and a ground-clinging variety of juniper. Fireweed and other tenacious wildflowers seemed to thrive, though sparsely, in the rocky soil, however, creating an odd sort of illusion: when viewed from a distance, the landscape seemed to possess an etherial beauty; yet as one came near enough to see it closely, the illusion of beauty was gone, replaced by a few weeds growing out of bleached and dry-looking red gravel.