You gather your horses, mindful of any further restless dead that may have been disturbed. Thankfully only this one barrow seems to have been desecrated by the witch and her accomplices. Despite the darkness you are easily able to retrieve your nearby mounts.

In the distance to the south you can still clearly make out flashes of lightning marking your destination. Clearly the Cusp of Freyja, the spring equinox, is channeling magical power from the lands around. Mindful of the girls you press on through the night. At some point the trail that you follow must have been an actual path or road cutting across the moor. After a couple of miles the ground grows swampy and a large bog, visible mostly as a misty depression of still and silent fog, stretches ahead blocking your path.

A wooden walkway leads directly into the misty bog, supported about a foot above the water by stout wooden pilings. The walkway is missing the occasional plank but otherwise seems like it would be wide enough (and sturdy enough) for horses or a giantess to travel single-file.