He leaned over to rub a knee and then looked up to the overcast sky.

“Rain’s coming.”  It was only an hour later, after the sky had opened up and dropped a waterfall on top of them that Keto registered what it was that Quartes had said.  The drops were large, cold, and thrown into them by the wind such that even the Landian’s oiled cloak offered only a little protection.  All Keto could do was take a moment to cinch tightly shut the bag that held her harp, hold a hand to block the rain from hitting her face and push on.  She made to follow the Landian but a few steps later her boot sank up to the ankle.

Keto looked up to see Quartes quickly fading into the gray of the storm.  She tugged again and nearly lost her balance for her trouble.  “Little help!” she was forced shout into the downpour.  The wind and the rain seemed to eat her words and she worried at how long until he would notice she was gone.  She relaxed when his cloaked form reappeared and stumbled against as the mud held fast to her.

Without word Quartes stopped by her side and crouched down, a firm hand grasping about her ankle and helping to free her boot.

“Walk on the grass along the side,” he had started but as he looked up at her but something shifted in his look.  Keto watched those pale green eyes scan her, darting across her shoulders, before returning to her face.  “Do you have a cloak or anything for the rain?”  Keto, clutching her sides now as she had started to shiver, shook her head.  The Landian paused again in thought.  “Is your bedroll all that you have?”  Keto nodded.

“My last group had a couple of tents split amongst them.”

Those pale eyes dropped, leaving Keto with just a look at the top of Quartes’ hood.  She noted trails of water as the rivulets gathered int he folds and then ran off.  After a moment more, the Landian backed up a step, setting his feet on the grass that bordered the path and offered Keto a hand.  “Come on, I’ll get us out of the rain.”  Keto took his hand, stepped out of the waterlogged trail, and followed him.  The grass proved great at buttressing her steps but the mud underneath still shifted and the trodden on foliage was slick.  Her feat threatened to fall out from underneath her but Quartes had continued to hold her hand.  He stopped each time as her balance shifted, steadying her.  Once even he paused as he caught his balance, Keto helping as she braced her spare hand against him.

“Is this normal?”  She shouted.  Keto had tried to remember if she had seen any nearby copse of trees, any sight of them had been consumed by the gray of the storm.  Quartes seemed set on where he was going, leading them away from the trail and further into the grass.

“A few bad storms roll through here each summer, but it’s earlier than I’ve experienced before.”  He paused then, releasing her hand for a moment as he crouched by the ground and inspected something to Keto that just looked like more grass.  Regardless, he had found what he was looking for and Quartes straightened, taking her hand and guiding them onward.  It was only a little further on, after plateauing a small uphill, that he stopped them.  “Stay here,” he called, releasing her hand and moving forward a step or two before stopping.  Keto watched him hesitate for a moment before he dropped his haversack to the ground and turned.  Dropping his hood, what of his hair that was dry quickly slicked by the rain, Quartes undid the broach of his cloak, spun it around her shoulders and redid the clasp.  Keto stood stunned as his hand moved to raise the hood.  “This will take a bit.”

Grabbing his pack, the Landian strode forward to what Keto took as the center of the raised area.  Setting the pack down, Quartes opened the pack, reached into it, and removed a rolled leather bundle.  Keto stared confused, the bundle was certainly longer than the haversack was deep.  She’s started convincing herself that it had to just be a trick of the light when he withdrew two more bundles, far more than the pack should have been capable of carrying.

She shook her head as her body shook in the cold and watched the Landian go about laying out poles and leather canvas.  When she realized what he was doing, she joined in.  Their first attempt to raise the tent failed as a sudden gust of wind caught the canvas.  They both stumbled, poles and leather falling around.  Buried in the slick leather, Keto crawled her way out and found a scarred hand was waiting.  As Quartes pulled her to her feet, Keto gave the Landian a smile but his face, water pouring down it now, stared grimly at the sprawled tent.

“We’ll try it again,” she shouted.  Quartes gave a nod and they both set about to work.  The second attempt was successful and Keto steadied the wooden poles as Quartes went about and hammered in a series of stakes to secure both them and the flaps before another gust of wind sent them fluttering

Finally, blessedly, they entered the tent and stepped out of the rain.  The pounding of the drops was a loud din and the walls rumbled and snapped with each gust.  Fighting to keep her shivers under control, Keto wondered just how warm the tent would get.  It seemed sized for a dozen people and she hesitated to hop into her bedroll when she was soaked through.  With a grunt and a rattle, Keto’s thoughts were broken as she looked to Quartes.  In the Landian’s hands, and hovering just above the all too tiny opening to his backpack, was a brazier.  It hooked easily into rings built for its chains and soon the metal bowl was hovering in the upper reached of the tent.  Quartes steadied it and then returned to pulled a sack of what turned out to be charcoal from the backpack.

“Ok, enough is enough, how is that possible?”  Keto took a step back, her outburst shocking her.  Quartes had transferred some of the charcoal into the brazier and was now working to light it.  He paused, looking to Keto and then down to the pack.

“It holds things.”

“Yes, as does every sack and pouch but it’s holding too many things.”

The sparks had caught and a glow lit up the tent as Quartes returned to the back pack, pulling a folded waxed canvas tarp from it.  “Can you help me with this?” he asked as he began to unfold the tarp.  “A haversack’s purpose is to hold things.  It wouldn’t be a very good pack if it couldn’t.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Keto countered even as she picked up an end of the tarp and straightened it out over the grass.  “It can’t hold anything bigger than it.  That’s why wagons and crates and such exist.”  The brazier was burning happily now, the tent beginning to warm up even as the storm continued outside.

“I don’t want to travel with those, this carries what I need,” the Landian smoothed out the edge of the tarp and then paused to look at their surroundings, “So I’m not caught without.”  Crouching back over the backpack he bent down and pulled out two bundles that he set about assembling.  Keto soon realized they were chairs.

With the tent growing warm, and her shivers slowly, Keto stared longingly at the chairs.  “Is it heavy?” she asked after a moment.

“Only as much as what it’s made, it’s pretty thick leather to have held up all these years.”  He had finished with one of the chairs and moved onto another.

Keto dropped into the completed chair.  “This is very un-Landian like.”  Quartes shrugged.  “I’m guessing though you don’t have a change of clothes in there for me.”

“Not something I’ve needed in the past, should have another couple blankets though.  Socks to if you don’t mind them being big”

“Wet socks are the worst,” the Landian grunted his agreement.  Eyes threatening to close Keto laughed with a thought.

“That’s a very hand sack to have.”