Private Tales Scorched Earth

[Fife]

He appeared to take that answer better than she expected. At first. Raigryn apologized and Fife shook her head firmly in refusal.

It wasn't your fault, she insisted with quick fingers. She shook her head again, more seriously, to his question.

No. Fife looked down. She began chewing her lip and her brow screwed up. I'm sorry I didn't understand that. I didn't know what they had done to you. I should have known he wouldn't let us go. We should have left sooner. I'm sorry I didn't know.

Weeks of frustration and guilt creaked behind the dam of her emotions. She held it together. Barely. Fife sniffed and stubbornly wiped her eye dry.

But when I did understand, we left. She nervously glanced east, toward the hills they had traveled over yesterday. Towards a place she couldn't see but feared they'd always be running away from.

We should keep going, she told him reluctantly. Fife turned back, her eyes searching his as if seeking permission. She was just too far away. She didn't lean in for comfort, didn't cross the threshold formed by the space between where he sat and she knelt.

Instead, Fife stood and held out her hand to pull him to his feet. It was time they were going. As soon as they were somewhere safe, she could exhaust the burn in her eyes and the ache in her chest. But not until then. Not when his mind was still polluted and foggy. Not until he could understand why she didn't want him to hug her. Not until he knew.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Fife was very nearly forced to rebuff him from the conversation she wasn't ready for. As he stood tall he frowned down at her. Raigryn looked as if he was remembering what he should have been doing. It was like trying to force an awkward thread through the eye of a needle.

Eventually he offered a half smile and patted her shoulder. Things were going to fall into place. They were within his grasp now, but they had fallen into a disorderly pile.

If he were a different man, he would have wrought so much vengeance upon the world. Many ills to him and his kind had gone without retribution. A little spark of him briefly imagined going back to those caves another time and bringing them down.

He was one man and he had decided to let most of the past go and step outside of the events of the world. There were times when the world didn't want to leave him alone. From crazed assassins to effigies in stone that hadn't weathered quite enough.

"To the stone now?" He asked, having forgotten the village. His sense of direction was still keen; he turned on the spot to face the direction of the portal stone.

 

[Fife]

Fife nodded, too preoccupied with not crying and turning away to gather up the last of their things to correct him. She busied herself, put the bag back on Raigryn, and untied the horses. She supervised as he mounted before climbing up in front of him, blowing out a dizzying breath at the pain it caused her ribs to pull up her own weight.

His direction had been correct and Fife pointed Dusty’s nose that way.

---

For a few days more they pressed westward, riding deeper into the plains. They continued to travel from midday until the small hours approaching dawn, riding through the coldest part of the night and sleeping in the warm morning sunlight.

Fife rarely prompted him to talk and only signed when spoken to. She was, however, attentive to his needs and cared for him with purpose and gentle intent. Her strong grip held him steady. Her shoulder was a reliable resting place for his head as they rode. With only a look she seemed to know what he needed and when he needed it. Moreover, she accepted no remarks or thanks for any of it.

She kept her moods in check by avoiding them. As a result, her mind became a gray of muddled colors behind the rigid walls she'd erected to keep it all in. She was waiting for the moment he got worse, for him to forget her entirely again. She was indescribably happy to be reunited with him. Her gaze continuously cast over her shoulder to see if anyone was following them. Her hand occasionally found his for comfort. It was easier to say nothing, riding in the silence and mire of her own thoughts.

They reached the remote prairie town just before sunset. Fife had tied her hair back from her face, disheveled her brows, and buttoned up her jacket. It didn't take much for her to shift her appearance from young woman to teen boy in the fading light. She tossed a mischievous grin over her shoulder to Raigryn. Her black eye had faded to a patch of greenish yellow and mauve, adding to her rough, boyish facade.

The inn was easy to find. It appeared to be the town's crown jewel and the centerpiece around which the whole island of civilization grew. Beside it was a general store and a moderate livery capable of housing both mounts and carriages. There were signs for a number of amenities and services on different streets, and she could smell a forge in the vicinity. Across the street an alehouse was already glowing invitingly. A boy came out of the livery, chirping about lodging and feed for the horses, and Fife handed him their leads and dropped coppers into his outstretched palm.

Stepping inside the inn, Fife's gaze made only one casual, sweeping pass to gather all she needed from its interior and those dining in the hall that evening. Merchants and clergy of some variety by the look of them. The innkeeper was also easy to find: a tall man with a dark, silvering beard wearing a smudged apron. He exited a conversation and strode over to the newcomers.

"Evening, sir. What can I do ya for?"

He had addressed Raigryn but Fife already had her slate and chalk in hand. She handed it to the innkeeper. He squinted and held the slate aloft at arm's length to read it with a discernible look of confusion. Her script was clear and legible.

One room. Two meals. Bath.

"We've no bath. Bathin' and the lasses are down the way," he told them, gesturing (she assumed) in the direction of the bathhouse and the lasses. Fife's face was immediately as red as a ripe strawberry and she glanced briefly up at Raigryn. The innkeeper chuckled. "Not for the lad, then. Room'll be seven silver pieces. Up the stairs, second room on the left"

Fife fished out the proper coinage and was never so happy to be away from a conversation.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"Not for the lad then..." Raigryn echoed quietly once they were half way up the stairs. It was impossible to tell if he was simply waking up and copying what was going on around him or speaking from amusement. If it was the latter, he was playing his cards close to his chest.

A strange sleeping cycle hadn't been a problem for him. He had drifted in an out of sleep at all hours for the last few months. There was no particular time that he needed sleep, but he could also be weighed down by a heavy exhaustion at any moment without warning.

The door opened. They crossed the threshold and stepped into a world he had almost forgotten. There was a small desk. His hand opened and closed at the thought of scrawling away at his copies of letters. They were not the same people who had last lived in this world.

He had the sense to hope he could go back to how he had been. His age was a barrier to healing quickly. He also had the sense to know that Fife had been through something that would change her forever. He needed to get better to make sure it wasn't a darkness that haunted her forever.

"I will get better," he quietly declared as he closed the door behind them.

 

[Fife]

Fife threw an exasperated, crimson-cheeked look over her shoulder when he spoke. His voice was an echo of the innkeeper and himself… but it felt like he was teasing her. Raigryn would have normally been amused by such a moment. Something had made him repeat the words when he rarely said anything, and because she was hungry for normalcy, Fife smiled and shook her head.

The room was a little nicer than most, housing not only two narrow beds, but also a small desk beneath the window. It was clean and warm. There wouldn’t be a guard on the other side of the door. Nobody was listening.

She set their bag down on one of the beds and was checking the latches on the shutters when he closed the door. Fife faced him with no expression at all, felt nothing at all as many different responses collided in a very confusing pause before the weight of them all hit her at once. It pulled her in all directions at once.

Her gray eyes shimmered as she smiled and nodded. The sign she responded with was an emotion but also a thought for an apparent truth -- somewhere between of course and I know and obviously. She’d thought it too vague to ever have any real application, and yet she’d found a place for it. It was difficult to smile, but she smiled nonetheless.

Of course he would get better. They both would. Right?

Fife hastily resumed her task so as not to linger on that any longer. She ensured the window was firmly latched. She propped up her sword beside one of the beds and slipped one of her knives under the pillow. She unfolded a blanket and added it to the other bed for another layer of warmth for Raigryn. It wasn’t much to do and was done very quickly. She perched on the edge of the bed she’d claimed.

She whistled his name to get his attention and waited for him to be looking before she signed.

Are you hungry? she asked. I have places to go. You can rest here. Or take a bath. Fife scrunched up her nose and the flush returned to her cheeks, plainly expressing her thoughts on the bathhouse.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

This time he smiled at her discomfort. It wasn't the kindest way to express himself, but this was a genuine reaction. It wasn't Raigryn trying to remember what it was to be himself, it just happened without his brain getting in the way.

It turned just as quickly.

"Where do you have to go?" He asked, brow furrowing in concern. For months she had been working for Lawrence in some capacity and he had no idea where she was from day to day. He remembered realising that he had to stop trying to direct her life for her, but that wasn't the outcome he had planned.

 

[Fife]

He smiled. Smiled. It wasn't the fake one he had mimicked because he was supposed to, but a real one. It made her even weaker when that honest smile disappeared.

I have to get things for our journey. Coats, saddles, food, beds, blankets. All things she had bought once before and had been forced to leave. She waved her hand in et cetera, then took his measure for several seconds. She frowned gently as she tried to discern what part of her going was the upsetting part.

Do you want to come? That was the problem, right? That she would leave him here and be gone? You can come if you are not tired.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"Oh," he went. The slow nod that followed was the plan sinking in. It made sense. It was obvious really.

She placed a condition upon his involvement that required lying. It took longer than it should have done to reply. Perched on the edge of a bed, he had his chin in his hand. His thumb itched at the beard that needed trimming. Another time and he might have been planning some grand scheme and not taking so long to decide whether to accompany Fife to a market.

"You should go without me. Not many of them will be able to read so...come fetch me if you need. "

Waving and jangling coins would go a long way with anyone.

 

[Fife]

Fife waited, watching him as the gears turned. It made her sad, her wise scholar brought to this, and yet seeing him answering questions and engaging with her was promising. It might not have seemed like much to anyone else, but he was already leaps beyond where he had been. She smiled and nodded, a little more honest warmth in the gesture.

Rising, she bid him to take off his boots before lying down and made sure he was comfortable -- that he was warm (which she asked again between each task), that he wasn't hungry, that he had water. Her caress ran the length of his arm and her hand briefly grasped his.

Leaving him here was more difficult than she had anticipated. Even leaving him for a short while felt wrong, bad. Her grasp tightened and she hesitated in visible conflict. Fife frowned deeply.

I will not be gone long, she assured him. Stay here.

Fife didn't want to let go of his hand, but she did. She backed up to the door because she didn't want to take her eyes off of him. But she had to and she did, going out into the hall without waving.

She couldn't say goodbye or anything like it.

---

The sun had nearly gone down when she returned. Bearing a satchel and two rolled up bundles of cloth tied with leather straps on her back and shoulders, she carefully balanced two bowls of stew as she opened the door.

Hello, Raigryn, she whistled cheerily. She kicked the door shut with her foot and crossed the room with buoyant steps to set down their dinner, then began the process of removing her load of supplies. She was in a very good mood as she dumped it all by their first satchel.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

He found that he didn't want to let go of her hand. It was small in his own. Her fingers told him that she hadn't become lax in practising the sword since they left Indretar.

Small pieces of memory remained with him. He thought of Fife coming and going and had a sense of how little he had acknowledged her presence. That must have hurt.

He was a burden. His arms had remembered enough of the sword to help a little as they had escaped, but he had slowed her down. Fife had probably been afforded ample chances to leave on her own.

When she was gone he reached for the sword they had stolen. It wasn't a fine piece of idemni forged steel, it wasn't elven or dwarven. It was a simple, solid piece of steel. Not cheap and not special. Just the way he linked blades, unfortunately not how he liked them balanced.

When Fife returned he was horiztonal. He was dowsing rather than sleeping and sat up slowly.

"You look content, find everything?" he asked. More words in a row than he'd unleashed in a while.

 

[Fife]

Fife smiled and nodded as she pulled out the chair at the desk to sit closer to him. She paused long enough to shrug.

Most things. The horse man did not read. Difficult. Only one saddle. That was her only shortcoming, but her list had been meager to begin with. Her smile acknowledged that a single complaint was nothing to sniff at. Not that long ago, what she had just accomplished would have been an impossible feat on her own. That she could relate the events to him after was an even greater accomplishment.

There was an odd moment where her lips parted and her fingers lifted, but she hesitated. Her fingers curled up, the sentiment saved for another time.

Eat and then I'll show you. I got things for you. Setting an example, she turned her knees to the desk and her attention to her meal. Her smile lingered, her mind brimming with giddy excitement that she was having difficulty putting a lid on.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"I don't seem to have all my appetite back," he said softly. "But I suppose I'm aware of that now which is...different."

Different wasn't necessarily better. In this case it was, but he was afraid that what they had given him would draw him back. It had been up and down back in the caves as they experimented with how to dose him.

Fife seemed less on edge. That was good. When they were through the portal stone he would need to go through some lessons on balance and control. They would need to do a lot of things.

He looked through what she had brought. There was some bread and dried meats. He picked up some bits and sat down on the edge of his bed with some food on his lap.

 

[Fife]

No appetite. Not a new development, but a worrisome pattern. Fife watched him for a long moment, her eyes roaming over him in thought, before she nodded. She was in a good mood and would let him get away with it. This time; they could work on that after they were through the stone and settled. She, on the other hand, made short work of her stew.

The silence in the room was comforting. Familiar. She could easily imagine the sigh of tent walls filling and exhaling in the warm evening breeze. Something tight loosened in her chest and the weight of the past several months shifted.

When she was finished, Fife sat in front of Raigryn on the floor with the bag in her lap. She fished out a neatly folded stack of clothes and set it down beside him. They were, more or less, the same thing he'd been wearing for a year. With the exception of the coat. Those, unsurprisingly, were uncommon. The dark coat she'd been able to get was a disappointment on her eyes and (oddly) her heart.

She had found a red shirt, however. It was a small consolation prize, but the deep, dark red would still look nice on him.

From her new wardrobe, Fife excitedly held up a swathe of pink wool to her shoulders with her lip caught between her teeth. A hood. Though the color was softer than the scarlet dress -- the last purely feminine article of clothing she'd worn -- the hood remained unerringly girlish. A narrow, white floral chain had been embroidered along the trim and it fastened with white buttons. It was a departure from everything else she had worn in his company: things that made her look like a boy. While it wasn't the only feminine piece she'd purchased for herself, it was the one she was most excited for.

Wriggling eagerly, she pulled it on and looked up to Raigryn for his remarks.

Not that he could possibly change her mind about it. Fife was quite plainly in love with it.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

He picked at his food. Bits of bread and crust and the odd chunk of meat. It felt warm and satisfying, even if his stomach didn't demand it.

She had brought clothes. He looked down at himself. He ran fingers through his thick beard and unkempt hair. He hadn't thought much about his appearance back in his cell. He hadn't thought of much at all. Each new thought about how he had spent the last months was frightening.

Then came the reminder that his red coat had been left behind.

Raigryn let out an emphatic sigh, but he managed a smile.

"I knew that coat wouldn't last forever - as much as it had been restitched." Another view through the fog at the Raigryn she knew.

"I am getting a haircut when we're a safe distance from that place," he declared as he sized up the shirt against himself.

His attention was entirely back with Fife and away from retrospection when he caught her expression.

"That looks lovely," he said softly. He almost managed a grin, even if he didn't quite feel it to his core. He wished he could. There were other cities they could visit with culture and streets where that have bag of coins could be lightened. Elbion was not the center of the world.

They would move past this.

"We should...we should visit the markets of Oban together."

 

[Fife]

She was a little sad about the coat, but he was smiling. Earlier his half-hearted attempts had only dragged her mood down further. Now they were like a current beneath a bird's wing, holding her aloft. Her excitement over the hood felt like nothing to the flutter in her chest and the smile that widened on her face. Raigryn was smiling.

Fife gently pushed the hood back, gathering it around her neck as she patiently waited for him to speak. He had already spoken more today than in the last few days combined, and she knew he must be getting tired soon. She was tired.

His suggestion was met with surprise. Out of nothing, he was still the one plotting their next destination.

Oban? She spelled it out. Fife shrugged and shook her head, indicating she was unfamiliar with it. What is it? She had heard of it, but it was just one of hundreds of places with vaguely familiar names.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

"It is..." Raigryn started, but the words did not come to describe it. "It is a city. It doesn't have to be there. Anywhere with good trade and food."

He couldn't quite line up his memories to picture a place, but he had the sense to appeal to Fife in a different way.

"You were not so keen on idemni food," he said, looking as if he remembered that as he spoke it.

 

[Fife]

Fife could see the thread unraveling faster than he could grab it. She didn't feel upset, though; she felt happiness like a sickness after eating too many sweets. A good thing was crumbling right in front of her and she felt like laughing. Instead, she managed to sit patiently as he worked out what he wanted to say.

Until she did laugh. She agreed, nodding and making a bullshit sign for spicy from hot several times near her mouth. Fife hadn't disliked the spicy desert fare, but it certainly hadn't appealed to her the way it did him. She would save her curiosities about the city and its kingdom for later. Perhaps she could coax out more details from him in a moment of clarity on the road between here and there -- wherever there was.

We don't have to decide now. They did tomorrow, but it would hopefully alleviate some of his worries tonight. She chewed her lip as she glanced over her bag and decided the rest could wait for another night.

Fife tugged the hood back over her head, folded it in her lap, and smoothed down her staticky hair. She stood and propped one hand on her hip -- the only warning he would be getting that she was about to be bossy.

Stand, she told him. New things. Goodbye old. It more or less covered what she wanted in simple terms for him.

Fife gathered up his new clothes and stacked them on the desk for tomorrow, keeping things for him to wear to bed on the top. Then, giving him a modicum of privacy to be independent, she turned her back and attended to her own wardrobe. She mindfully peeled her shirts off and paused to inspect her mending cut. It was healing, the sickly yellow and mauve of fading bruises making the tender, ruby seam look much worse than it was.

Hurrying against the evening chill, she fished soap and a cloth from her things. She wasn't going to get a warm bath, but at least she didn't have to bathe in the open air. Fife was still shivering when she finally slipped into a clean undershirt.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

Raigryn stood and looked at the clothes. He knew what she wanted, but he was momentarily lost thinking about Oban. There was something rather unique about the city and it remained frustratingly beyond him.

With a shake of his head, he started changing. Everything fit as well as it needed to. They had enough coin - Fife had enough coin - that they could get anything altered when they had time to stay in one place.

Raigryn cast a glance over his shoulder. This time had not been kind to them. He could feel the changes on his own body, the weight he had less. Fife had lost weight too, but her body had hardened beneath that whilst his felt fragile.

"Oh...of course..." He muttered under his breath. Without warning he went to one of her coin pouches and found two small denominations. He very deliberately used the corner of the windowsill to bend them both. He placed them both in one palm.

Raigryn sat back down on the edge of a bed and focused on them intently.

 

[Fife]

Fife was braiding her hair over her shoulder when he spoke. She looked back, watched him fetch coins and bend them. It wasn't like she could just ask him what he was doing, and he was so focused she didn't dare interrupt. Her fingers stopped and she waited.

He was just staring at his palm.

Unsure what he was doing or how to proceed, she sat down gingerly beside him to watch the coins and waited for… something.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

He did not notice Fife, not for the space of a few minutes. Older knowledge was so ingrained it wasn't so hard to access, but it did require concentration. It was like walking a familiar street in the fog; if he focused his feet could find their way on the feel of the road alone.

He had a little more Fury than anything else. By the time he had enough of his faculties to draw some power there had not been enough people in the caves to carefully steal from. Those reserves would need replenishing. He couldn't remain a burden to Fife. There was danger no matter where they went.

"I'm making keys," he said quietly. "It's not enough to use magic on them. It has to go...into them. I'll show you when I can explain better. If I didn't already."

That knowledge was too well obscured. She would feel a subtle trace of empathy, one that followed the bent coin he held out for her.

They were bent so they could be found among other coins. There were two so that if either of them made the trip, they could use the stone.

 

[Fife]

She watched in perfect silence, her breathing hushed so that she was nothing but a small weight on the bed beside him. After a while of just staring, he explained what was going on. Sort of. Not really, but Fife was accustomed to being clueless. If he wasn't sure he had explained it, then she didn't think it would be helpful telling him that she didn't even know what he had or hadn't.

She could feel the application of Empathy -- a flicker of red that was there and then gone on the periphery of her mind. She accepted the magically imbued coin. No, a key. To what, she really had no clue. Nevertheless, Fife smiled gratefully, put her hand on his knee in thanks, and hopped up to place it in her jacket coin purse. A weird thing, but she would keep it safe.

Fife spent a moment finishing braiding her hair and tidying their things in preparation for tomorrow. She changed her trousers, picked up her sword, and climbed into the bed across from Raigryn.

Goodnight, Raigryn, she whistled softly. It had been so long that the sing-song notes were almost unfamiliar. She reached for the light and then hesitated.

The small room felt enormous. The space between the two narrow beds was as wide as the Cairou river.

She wanted to give him space and time to be himself so they could talk before she took her liberties. Snuggling didn't feel right right now because he didn't know, didn't remember. And yet her heart stumbled thinking of him so far away. What if there was trouble in the night? What if someone came? What if she was on the other side of the room, too slow and too late? What if... What if...

Another version of her might have been strong enough to stay put, but this version of Fife got up and crossed the gap. She gave his hip a gentle push to scoot him over, laid her sword within reach, and put out the light before snuggling down beside him.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

She understood. Good. If they were split up then she could use the key to travel beyond the portal stone. He was too tired to see the pauses in her movements and that she was humouring him.

As he settled down, she whistled to him. It brought to mind the times she had called for his attention whilst he had been in his cell. The tone was different.

Those times he had been caught staring at the floor and she had whistled from the doorway for his attention. Raigryn remembered moments that could have been lost, not that he wanted to remember.

This time the sound was almost optimistic. Raigryn smiled. When he heard Fife disturbing her made bed his head rose from the pillow. He moved aside with no complaint and settled his hand across her waist.

"Goodnight," he whispered. The gulf between their beds had not felt as large as that between then and now. But that space in time suddenly felt a little smaller.

 

[Fife]

The brisk spring morning was bracing the moment she stepped out of the stable. The wind whipped down the streets and alleys, seeking refuge in her collar and sleeves, leaching the warmth from her fingers and cheeks. Still, she took her time on the short walk to the front of the inn.

Her eyes scanned the faces of villagers. None she had seen too many times yet. Outside, that was. Inside the inn, the early risers were being noisy in the hall. The same stew from the night before (and probably nights reckoning back to the inn's establishment) was warming over the fire. The hall was fragrant and warm, and the faces inside it didn't pay her any mind. She knew what she was looking for but didn't know how it would look.

Fife waved at the innkeeper and he waved back, just as he had yesterday. As she mounted the stairs to their room, she resisted the urge to look back, to be too obvious, to feed her gnawing paranoia.

They were still hanging onto their head start. A few hours, one hour, ten minutes, one minute -- the length of their lead didn't matter as long as they still had it.

Fife curled her fingers around the latch and paused to gently rap on the door and whistle Raigryn's name before entering. She slipped inside, giving the hall one final sweep. It was warmer in their room, but only just barely. Fife smiled at Raigryn and stood near the foot of her bed where the bags were packed neatly. A project she'd worked on after her time of fighting with her nightmares had come to an end.

She had let him sleep much later, only rousing him to get ready before going down to get their horses ready. Dusty had a new (to him) saddle and Socks was… well, he was Socks. The head-to-toe inspection she had given each horse had probably been an insult to the farrier and the stableboy, but their escape relied on their horses being sound.

Not something she was going to leave in the hands of strangers after how hard she had worked to get to this place.

They are ready to go, when you are, she told Raigryn.

 

[Raigryn Vayd]

He stood in the center of the octogonal room. It was no longer shrouded in mist and shadow, but he still could not reach out easily to the books that represented his memories and feelings, nor the pillars that were his Aspects.

Raigryn stretched out beyond himself. The innkeeper was berating one of his staff downstairs. He gently abated his anger and took it for his own. Frustration boiling over had its own distinct shade. Raigryn was glad to be able to draw so easily. Too glad. It tipped him off balance and the link was broken. It was a start.

He looked up sharply as Fife stepped into the room.

"Before we go... I need to say something." She would see from his expression that it wasn't because it was urgent, but because he feared that he would lose the thought if he waited.

"If they will meet us anywhere it will be at the stone. They have to know we will go there. They wold not baulk at riding horses into the ground to get there first."

 

[Fife]

She came to a full stop at the tone in his voice. Her heart fluttered and she stood very still. He looked concerned, the same look he’d worn half a dozen times this past week. Fife didn’t move, didn’t breathe, didn’t do anything to distract Raigryn from whatever was on his mind.

It was something she already knew. Fife nodded but her smile was thin, not really covering the underlying grimace.

I know, she signed. She knew all too well. She’d spent months with them -- much longer than she needed to understand how they operated. They had put a lot of time and effort into acquiring her and she had proven she was a valuable asset. And she had done a lot of damage leaving. A lot of damage. The attempt at a smile faded and Fife nodded again as her face drifted away.

She felt her mind beginning to tip towards her worries and she briefly touched her hand to her temple, a frown drawing her features further. Fife reeled back against that tidal wave of thought and held her precarious balance at the center.

We should go, she signed, making a much better attempt at clearing the thoughts on her face. She wore neither the frown nor the previous evening’s joy.

She busied herself with leaving to make maintaining that easier. Fife put on her sword, looped the straps of both bags across her torso, and hoisted the saddlebags. It left him a bedroll and a blanket to carry besides his sword. Not much, but she wasn’t going to test his strength. She rubbed her face and sighed when her back was to him as she walked to the door, scrubbing at her eyes to alleviate the frustrating burn.

It wasn’t his fault. She’d explain better and make her apologies when they had the time for it and she could do it without crying or laughing. Or both. Since she wasn't capable of that right now, she would pool all of her resources into getting him somewhere safe.

She paused by the door to wait for him, her eyes watching the floor near Raigryn's feet and not daring to venture up anywhere near his.