Humphrey climbed onto Bastion's saddle and settled his hat down more firmly against the rising wind. "We may have to chance it, lad," he said, turning to the north. "It is possible that Moorcroft is not looking for us in this direction, as yet, nor may he be searching for three people ahorse. Even so, we must be wary of strangers, and not offer up any information about ourselves."

Bruce nodded and mounted his horse, then they headed off, into the wind.

An hour later, storm clouds had obscured the sun and the day had darkened, considerably. Moving through the fairly dense wood and making their own trail, without even the river to guide them, Isabelle began to wonder how Humphrey knew where he was going.

"Uncle," she said, "how can you be sure of our direction, without the sun to guide us?"

"I can answer that," Bruce said, and pulled his roan up next to the princess. "Do ye see the base of these trees we pass," he asked her, pointing to his left at several gnarled oaks.

Isabelle looked, and on the darkened bark of each tree, she could see a roughly triangular growth of green moss at the base on their side of the trees. She nodded to Bruce.

"That moss will only grow on the north face of each tree," he told her. "So, if we head in the direction the moss grows, we continue north," he said, smiling and proud that he was able to share some of his forest knowledge with Isabelle.

"I see," she said, somewhat impressed. "And why does it only grow on the north flank of the trees?" she asked.

His smile slowly faded, as this answer he did not know. "Uh, that would be...because..." he began, unsure of himself.

"Because here," Humphrey cut in, saving face for his former squire, "the sun rarely touches the north face of these trees, allowing the moss to grow more abundant on that side."

Grateful for his interruption, Bruce added, "Aye, that be it, then."

"Interesting," Isabelle said, apparently not noting the look of silent thanks which Bruce directed toward Humphrey. Still gazing past Bruce, she pointed and said, "Look. Is that a wild apple tree?"

Bruce turned to follow her gaze, and spied the tree in question. "Aye," he said. The fruit appeared to be a bit past its prime, but even so, they would be edible and make a nice treat. "I will gather some up for us," he said, and turned his horse toward the tree.