True enough, Marton was afire. There weren't a soul to be seen other than fat wargs prowlin' about. I stayed north of the town and hugged the cliffs until I seen the winding path up to the Stonedeans.
I found a few locals and told 'em the news of what I'd seen. Forewarned is forearmed I reckon.
I shared a beer or two with my new friends, and got ready to head on.
There's a nice little path follows the Isen and I loves the sounds of the waterfalls and weirs all the way along, very calming.
I didn't bother stopping at Grimbold's camp as I had a lot of ground to cover that day, and one of his footman told me there'd been some trouble across the river so's I'd best keep movin'.
Fair enough I says, and I plodded across the river and into the Westfold, wet boots an' all.
Brenin Crus