It had been three days since I'd eaten anything, except a couple of grubs. Two days since the last water. Crossing the Kragmon Mountains on foot was not the best way to escape the King's Guard, but it seem to have worked. I knew there were some villages on the northern side of the range and I hoped to reach them, preferably alive. It may have helped my quest had I shed the load I carried, but a sack of the King's finest jewels and gold pieces would set me up quite nicely with a new life somewhere outside of Ghardania. The Kragmon was nothing but solid rock. The heat came through my boots by mid-morning and burned the rest of the day. Without water, I assumed I was done for and decided to just go as far as I could. The lucky sole who found me, would certainly have use for my treasure. Delirious by noon, I started wobbling and tried hard to keep to the trail, rather than fall off the cliffs. Then an odd thing happened. I swore I could smell the sweet scent of baking bread. Almost laying my sack of loot down, in order to more quickly follow the smell of food, I trotted down a trail of loose stone and started sliding. Tumbling out of control, I watched the trail coming to a sudden end and scrambled to grab onto a dead treetrunk. As I was wrapped around the tree, I watched the rocks fall off into a deep chasm and just managed to snag my precious leather bag as it passed by. Catching my breath, I cleared the dust from my eyes and blinked hard as I looked across the chasm. A trail of smoke rose from the chimney of an aged, but homey inn. Nearby, a waterfall fell off into the gorge and my dry mouth hurt to swallow as I watched the cool clear inviting water disappear into the misty void. It was like an oasis. This tree-shrouded glade sat amid the harsh granite mountains like in a dream. The only thing stopping me was an ancient and tattered rope bridge with nearly a third of it's slats missing. As I stood at the bridge, pondering the odds of a successful crossing, I saw a young woman come out of the inn's front door and shake a rug. She saw me and we stared at one another for a moment. Smiling, she came over to the opposite end of the bridge and wished me good day. My voice was barely audible and it took three tries to greet her back. I asked what this place was and she shrugged, saying she called it the Lost Inn since they didn