"There's gotta be more than just locals in the mire. And I doubt any of them would be out here. But there's always the chance one of them has gone rouge..." As desperate as a situation as they were in, they didn't seem desperate enough to murder the help, as much as they liked to turn the cold shoulder and try to keep to themselves. As for mercenaries, who in the right mind, and the right amount of funding and pay, would willingly send themselves out to the middle of nowhere with undead of all kinds and varieties and yes, that did seem to include farm animals.

"But they don't strike me as climbers." Back to the task at hand. Harding lingers behind the pair of them, not willing to put the bow down, even as she scans the ridge. They're not getting around it, but climbing it seems so unlikely, even if it's clear it's been done - really, there's a part of her that's impressed that whomever it was managed it. Possibly with supplies, but there's no real way of telling tracks down here. The answers are up there.

"Zevran, you want a boost?"

That's an offer, if you want to scramble up the wall. Elves are spindly, she's stocky. She'll happily watch- assist.