Dwarfshack looks up from the reigns and along the road, an endless line of trees form the snowy gauntlet through which the wagon traveled. He shook the snow from his beard and checked the location of his hammer, the shapes dancing along the edges of the forest made him nervous. A claw flashed into his vision and landed on his shoulder. With a deft movement he grabbed the hammer and swung it at the creature, no not a creature, it was Balasaar. The old warlord had come to keep him company at the head of the wagon, and luckily had dodged the hammer blow. “Sorry, im tired and my mind is getting to me” the dwarfshack admitted. “No worried friend, I will take the reigns if you would like to catch some sleep, the others are dozing soundly” Balassar replied. Dwarfshack glanced back to see the others curled snugly under a large blanket, all but vulcier who sat on the back of the wagon staring into the blackness. “No I’m good, friend” Dwarfshack said as he pulled his cloak tighter about his stocky frame and kept the hammer on the seat next to him. “We should arrive in Tussil by morning” Dwarfshack said absently as he grabbed a pint of mostly frozen and nearly stale ale and downed it, wiping the droplets form his immense beard. “Aye that we should, I look forward to being home again with my people” He replied “As do I” Dwarfshack replied absently, “You know, I think I will get some rest” He said as he handed the reigns to Balasaar and clambered into the back of the wagon and curled up under his cloak, Hammer still within arms reach, just in case.