The days and weeks passed, but finally, after a number of delays brought about by reports of marauding Goblins, the small exodus got under way. They were nearly a third on horse, a few rode atop heavily laden ox-carts and in horse-drawn covered wagons, and the rest travelled on foot. Upon reaching the town of Narvi, they turned west, skirting the foothills to enter a long, ever narrowing valley which passed eventually between two great ranges of mountains. Few had passed beyond the end of the valley, for it marked the end of the Elf Kingdom. To the best of anyone’s knowledge, what lay beyond was trackless wilderness.
The journey was hard on Deborah, who was still very ill. The bump and roll of the wagon soon had her laying in a cold sweat as she endured successive waves of dizziness and nausea. She was accompanied by Theuli, Malina, and the children. As Theuli wiped the fever-perspiration from her brow with a thick homespun cloth, Deborah opened her eyes.
‘Do you regret your decision to come to our world now?’ Theuli asked her.
Deborah tried to smile. ‘Ask me when I feel better.’ She was soon asleep again. Malina watched her, worried.
‘Do you think she will be all right?’