So far, Devin was confident he did not like the mountains. They were wild, uneven, and tough to travel through. Even Conor, who had been adventuring for several years with a fair amount of experience, seemed to be having a rough time.

Devin leaned forward to pat his horse on the neck, whispering praise to it. He had walked through similar terrain earlier and had panted the entire way. He couldn't imagine carrying gear and an entire human on his back while doing so. "Y'know," he said suddenly, "we could stop for a little while. Give our horses a break."

Conor shook his head. "Our last stop was thirty minutes ago. I'm sure they can go on for longer," he said.

Devin shrugged. "Worth a shot," he murmured to his horse. It nickered in response.

They carried on for another hour, then switched to walking. The day went by slowly, and every moment, Devin thought he was going to lose his mind. On the bright side, he was now numb to the toll the trek was taking on his body. He barely even felt the blisters or the ache in his muscles.

"Listen," Conor whispered, some time in the afternoon. Devin sat still for a moment, blinking.

"What am I listening for?" he asked after a long minute.

Conor shook his head again in disbelief. "A river, Devin," he answered bluntly, "you're listening for a river." Devin made a vague "ah" noise and tried again.

Yes, he could hear the faint rush of a swift-moving river. It was so soft that he normally wouldn't have noticed it. "How far away?" he wondered aloud.

Conor tilted his head. "Twenty, thirty minutes, give or take," he replied, urging his horse into a walk once more. "We can refill our canteens there if the water is fresh."

Devin nodded wordlessly, following him. Their small space of security was once again filled with the creak of saddles, the jingle of reins, and the heavy breaths of hardworking horses.

The river was loud now. Neither of the boys could talk in the hushed voices they had grown so used to over the past few days, instead having to speak loudly in order to be heard.

"Conor!" Devin boomed.

"What!" Conor yelled from ahead.

"We'll have to cross the river!"

"What?"

"We'll have to cross the damn river!"

Just as he said it, the river finally came into view. It moved rapidly, the water constantly a frothy white. By the looks of it, it was freshwater, but Devin had a feeling that if they didn't hold onto their canteens hard enough, they might get swept away by the harsh onslaught of water.

Conor twisted around in his saddle. "How the hell are we gonna cross it, Dev?" he exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. Devin truly did not know how to cross it, but it stood in between them and the path to Glengavin.

"Well, I don't know!" Devin shouted back. "How deep is it?"

Conor's following shrug was greatly exaggerated. "Would you like me to wade through it? Or throw a pebble?"

"Forget what I said," Devin groaned. He dismounted with wobbly legs, walking awkwardly towards a fallen stick on the ground. It looked sturdy enough. He grabbed it, purposely avoiding Conor's gaze as he headed towards the river. With great struggle, he shoved it into the water. It tried to take the stick with it, shoving it to the side, but with all his strength, Devin managed to scrape the bottom of the river with the edge.

"Not that deep right here!" he yelled over his shoulder.

"Bravo," Conor replied flatly. He carefully dismounted, his hand finding the canteen at his belt and pulling it out. Devin watched him doubtfully. The blond crouched by the water, slowly lowering it to the water. It filled up quickly, his hand struggling to keep it steady. Then, when it was full once more, he pulled away.

"Well," Conor chirped, "that worked!"

Devin nodded slowly, doing the same. It was incredibly hard to keep it still, but he managed.

"Okay, let's cross this thing," Conor said as he placed his foot in the stirrup, hopping up and swinging his leg over his horse's rump.

Devin gave the river one last long look before stretching his arms out over his head as he walked towards his horse. It was prancing a little nervously, he noticed, so he gave it a few quick strokes on the nose before mounting. Conor surged forward first, his horse anxiously stepping into the water. It whinnied, but continued. Devin followed soon after, his own anxiety eating away at his chest. The horses were obviously struggling, as the rapid water was already halfway up their legs. Any moment now, one could stumble and take the other with it.

"You're doing good!" he heard Conor shout over his shoulder. Devin wanted to tell him the same, but his throat was in a knot.

Suddenly, he heard Conor yelp in pure terror. Devin noticed all too late that his horse had given into the force of the river, and they were now toppling over.

"Conor!" Devin shouted in alarm. His horse startled, caused by both the sudden fear of its rider and the fact that its companion had just fallen over into violent waters. It lurched to one side, then completely toppled. Devin let out a high pitched shriek, taking his foot out of the stirrup just in time as he hit the cold water with a splash. He thrashed and kicked with all his might, breaking the surface to take a sharp breath before the rapids took him once more. The river got deeper the farther it went along, trying to drag them under and drag them.

Every once and a while, one thought they could hear the other calling for them and tried to answer, only to take in a mouthful of water. Devin could feel his limbs seizing in panic, his vision becoming blurry and unfocused due to the lack of air in his lungs. He tried to take in more air, but the river prevented him, shoving him under again. There were black spots in his vision and his sense of direction was fading, as was his consciousness. He closed his eyes to clear his thoughts and stop the burning, but he did not open them again.

He awoke rather ungracefully to the sound of men all around him. Devin jolted awake, spitting and coughing up water. He was making awful retching noises, he realized. Perhaps it didn't matter, because his dignity had already been destroyed long ago.

Dragon, dragon, dragon. That was all that was on his mind. Had to get to the dragon.

Devin shakily tried to stand up, but he felt strong hands push him down again. "Calm down, son," an unfamiliar man said. His vision was fuzzy, but if he squinted, he could make out the man's features.

Kind eyes with a smile that made him look trustworthy. The pale skin of the average northerner, a neatly trimmed beard and mustache, and a vibrant kilt.

"Who are you?" Devin croaked. His throat felt like it had been ripped out and repeatedly shoved back into place.

"My bad," the man apologized. "My name's Clyde. The gentlemen behind me are Tavish, Malcolm, and Lennox." He gestured vaguely over his shoulder at the men standing behind him. They grunted their greetings.

Devin rubbed his face with his hands. "Devin," he said simply.

Clyde grinned. "Nice to meet your acquaintance, kiddo," he said.

Devin inhaled sharply. "Conor!" he exclaimed, getting up with the intention to find his friend. Clyde merely pushed him down again.

"Your friend's alright, Devin. You're alright."

Devin looked around uselessly. "What about our horses?" he asked. His brain was slowly clearing out the fog that had wrapped itself around his consciousness.

"Lennox found 'em farther down the river. No major injuries."

He nodded his head wordlessly. "Okay," was all he said, and even that sounded far too weak for his liking.

Clyde brightened, if that was even possible. The man already seemed quite jolly. "Alright, kiddo," he said, standing up from his crouch. He leaned down, hauling Devin to his feet. Devin grunted in pain. "Up you go, there's a good lad. You must be freezing, let's go somewhere warmer." He wrapped a heavy wool blanket around Devin's shoulders.

Devin tugged it around himself gratefully. "Where are we going?" he asked tiredly.

Clyde looked down at him with a toothy grin.

"Glengavin."