Conall calls out to his sister as he rides up besider her.

Holly pulls over and quickly hitcheg his restless young fleetfoot to her chariot. They're off again in no time. With two horses and the wind at their backs, they're easily able to follow the shadow of Aine up over the ancient ruins and hillforts and through the maze of bushes and trees until they reach the bog.

"Sodding bog!" Conall growls and glares at the mess before them as though cursing it would wish it away.

Holding on for dear life with one hand, Conall takes a swig of mead with the other and prays to Lugh for a long life, to Macha for speed and to Brigid for guidance through the quagmire.

"Not a problem Conn," Holly soothes in her singsong voice and slows the team to a gradual stop for a quick rest break.

"Where there's a will there's a way," she shrugs, dismissing the dangers as she focuses her attention on the swampy morass ahead.