There is sometimes a light breeze over the water, but tonight it's quite still. Crickets cry in the treeline, but before them the river flows black and tranquil, reflecting the sky above unbroken. The same water that flowed past Elturel, that washes up against the docks at Baldur's Gate. Damn it for being so close, and them unable to traverse it.

There will be more losses before they reach security. Zevlor doesn't dare assume otherwise, but he can at least hope they'll be few.

He stands next to Kael, clasping his hands behind him idly, and tilts his head to the side, listening without looking at him. Eye contact could be too much to bear for a man that's rattled like this.

"Your mind is full of emotion and imagery without context." He nods his understanding.

"I've counseled soldiers--Hellriders and others--after battles so terrible and traumatic they shut their own minds down rather than perceive the memories. It's possible you've been through something like that."

"Not that I have a sure answer for you. Any number of things could be affecting you. But I'm happy to listen."