Rotherhollow

It turned out that Tweety wasn't that dumb after all. Ethan only had to walk for a few hours on the rugged road less traveled recommended by the bird before he stumbled onto a regular carriage path.

The road was much wider than the one before, its surface packed down by countless wheels and hooves over time. It wound gently through the trees, cutting a path that was clearly well-used.

The sight of it sent a wave of relief through him, though he remained cautious. A busy road meant people—and potentially more danger.

Thankfully, it looked like there was nothing to worry about. Just a few seconds after he arrived a carriage passed by him. It was a horse-drawn carriage and there was a family sitting on the back side.

Another couple of minutes later, two more carriages passed by. This time it was a merchant caravan. The first carriage was filled with barrels and sacks, likely goods for trade, while the second carried a few rough-looking guards armed with swords and crossbows. Their eyes flicked toward Ethan as they passed but they didn't spare him another glance.

Ethan let out a breath he did not realize he was holding. But he knew this wasn't over. It was just beginning. The real danger would start when he stepped into the city. That was when he needed to be careful. Depending on just how powerful the man who wanted him dead was everything could change.

Watching the carriage disappear into the distance, Ethan tightened his grip on the straps of his backpack and then started to walk. Another hour later he decided to go about a different way. He hitchhiked onto a carriage dismissing both of his pets. 

Risks be damned. He was so tired he was about to fall unconscious. His legs felt like lead, each step heavier than the last, and his mind buzzed with exhaustion. The prospect of collapsing in the middle of nowhere wasn't exactly appealing, so when he saw an approaching carriage with a friendly-looking farmer at the reins, he took a chance.

Ethan flagged down the carriage with a weary wave, his other hand gripping the strap of his backpack like a lifeline. The farmer pulled on the reins, bringing the horse to a slow stop. The man's face was weathered, his eyes kind but wary as they scanned Ethan up and down.

"Need a ride?" the farmer asked, his voice rough but not unkind.

Ethan nodded, his voice hoarse when he replied. "Yeah, just to the next city. If that's where you're headed."

The farmer tilted his head, considering him for a moment, then gestured toward the back of the cart. "Climb on. You don't have to pay anything. Just don't touch the crates, lad."

"Thanks." Ethan climbed into the cart without hesitation, settling among sacks of grain and crates of vegetables. The motion of the cart as it lurched forward was oddly soothing, and for the first time in hours, he let his body relax.

As the cart trundled along the well-worn path, Ethan let his head rest against one of the sacks. His sword was still within reach, just in case, but for now, he allowed himself to close his eyes. The gentle rocking of the cart, combined with the distant sound of the horse's hooves, lulled him into a light doze.

When Ethan woke up, the soft hum of city life greeted his ears. The clatter of wheels on cobblestones, the distant chatter of merchants calling out their wares, and the occasional neigh of a horse painted a vivid picture even before he opened his eyes. 

The farmer's cart had slowed, weaving through what sounded like a bustling street.

Ethan sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and blinking at the scene before him. The city gates loomed in the distance, tall and imposing, with stone walls stretching as far as he could see. 

People bustled about, carts laden with goods, travelers of all sorts entering and leaving the city. The air smelled of dust, roasted meat, and something faintly metallic—perhaps from the smithy nearby.

"Where are we?" Ethan asked groggily, turning to the farmer.

"South Gate of Rotherhollow," the man replied without looking back. "You'll want to hop off soon if you don't plan on following me to the grain depot."

Ethan nodded, stretching his stiff limbs. He grabbed his backpack and sword, making sure everything was still intact. "Thanks for the ride."

The farmer grunted in acknowledgment as Ethan jumped off the cart, landing lightly on the packed dirt path leading to the gates. He adjusted his pack and blended into the crowd, his senses on high alert. Rotherhollow seemed much larger than he'd anticipated. The tall gates, fortified watchtowers, and steady flow of people made it clear this was a major trade hub.

The guards at the gate wore polished armor, their sharp eyes scanning the crowd. Ethan's heart pounded as he approached, but he forced himself to look casual. His bald head and changed appearance were hopefully enough to avoid any immediate recognition.