Fuller stood with the Dark Council’s marshal, John, the Harper in front of her. Corey was beside them all with his hand on the lead of a horse pulling a cart full of supplies, including the field-dressed wild boar that John’s soldiers had hunted for them. Emilee was sitting cross-legged on the ground, fingering the little hole in her boot and dumping out a stone.
“Now, this edge of the road here…” He pointed to where his feet were placed. “...is the edge of my boundary. The road is, of course, not included.”
“We got it.” Emilee pointed. “After Seven and One, do not step over that line.”
“Unless we plan to keep heading north, without any southern deviation, until we reach the Kern Grumen.” Fuller added.
“Or unless we stay within five miles of the coastline of the Great Northern Sea to the east.” Emilee pointed and waved her hand in the general direction of east.
“Correct.” John the Harper nodded. He smiled and pointed to the west. “And you must be west of the line that passes through the confluence of the Kern Grumen and the Netherton River, should you venture that direction. Now, look at a map, and warn anyone who might be interested.”