A mountainside. A few modest houses.
Brimley: Were there others?
Jamet: Aye, but no many. Reckon they’s a just be passing through.
Brimley: Fish will keep them a few days. Once they have their lot, they’ll be moving on.
Jamet: True. They’d already been working the nets when I sees them.
Brimley: Nets? Them sounds organized, like. You sure they didna have no uniforms.
Jamet: Not that I could sees. A few hats looked professional made, right, but that don’t mean more than they been for a stop at the milliner down in Colston.
Brimley: Still curious. Make sure you keep eyes on them, like. Travellers in fine hats with nets are no nomads.
Jamet: Aye. You’s think it’s unwise try and trade with ‘em. They didn’t look hostile, mind. I could use some tools and I’ve plenty of chickens I could offer.
Brimley: No harm, no. They’ll spot the village when they clear the pass sooner or later. Better to make ourselves known first.
Rustling of a strong wind gust through the trees. A dragon flies overhead.
Jamet: Not sure if that changes much, like?