Somewhere up ahead, the cry of an owl pierced the leaden silence and woke the Eorling from his musings. Régnwald turned his head, his eyes gliding over the grey sky and he advanced forth, the hair was long, straw in hue and tangled as the shrugs he often found himself clambering through. Adorning him were a tattered mess of skins patched around his byrnie, stitched together with as much skill as he could manage on his own. The snow drenching everything. His long bow of ash-wood and its meagre supply of arrows were bundled together in a leather sheath, which he hoped kept them dry, and upon his back he carried his game; some few snowrabbits, apparently for dinner.
As he neared the camp, he began to feel restless of reasons unknown to him. He wasn't questioning himself at all these days, nor was he bespaking in words. As he lifted up his gaze to check around the camp, his eyes landed on the figure of a woman near the fire, narrowing them as chains, he held his breath.
Wychtleth caught the movement of the man coming closer. She reached for one of the rocks before chuckling at him. She set it back before setting herself down by the fire, "Of all of the places to meet you again."
Régnwald in some vague surprise, widened his eyes and pursed his cold lips, seeking mouth words for a brief length. ''--What, you?'' there his inward curses could be read in his bearded, scarred features ''...What are you doing here?'' his voice came hoarse.
Though she was not the only guest. Régnwald's men were apparently in hunt too. Though there was someone else. The unnamed man with beholding eyes crouched taking cover behind the foliage of the tree that now seemed white, all covered with snow. His eyes spotted the fire ahead and he circled his fingers around his crude spear tighter, his eyes searching for the ones responsible for it. Iswyrg frowned with worry as the armed figure approached. He flinched backwards fearfully and prepared to leave though the sound of human voices drew him like a magnet. He stood there looking at them curiously, observing their every move.
Wychtleth grinned as she answered, "Looking for certain plants that I need. And you are up and walking."
Régnwald frowned at that, eyes glinting in some fierceness, then the long strides of the warrior would lead him to the witch, without words, a hand holding grasp of her arm to shake her, or at least came to face to face with her. ''No.'' and he repeated ''Have you been following us?''
''Answer me.''
Wychtleth laughed as she was shook, "No. I did not follow. I merely got caught in a snowstorm and had to continue walking to stay warm."
Iswyrg took a chance and crawled closer to be able to make out what the voices said. The woman's laughter shot a chill down his spine as some odd shreak of a bird or animal. He pushed his hood behind his ears to be able to hear better.
Régnwald eyed the woman fiercely a beat, remaining tempted now with the maiden's dark humour. His firm grasp would leave her soon after, gazing sideways while the stern, stoic air was held by him. He breathed deeply, blinking his eyes in thought ''You shall not stay here. Haven't you learnt anything from the locals? This is orc territory.''
Wychtleth shrugged at his warning, "And if death calls to me, then I will gladly accept it."
Régnwald stole her a brief look of anger as he straightened some, eyes wandering about the distance to regain his vigilance. Now with a little calm voice, he'd say ''In truth, you're calling death, 'tis something else, right.'' he nodded, scanning the ground for the barest of moments before he lifted up his gaze once more..
Wychtleth laughed as she looked at him. She pulled her hood back up, "Does it all matter what a witch does?"
Regnwald took his time in laying the game near the fire with care, he crouched down, feeling the stiff in his limbs. He seemed to ignore her words at first. ''I don't want ye to give us away.'' it was uttered lowly.
Wychtleth nodded, "I'll leave then. I have found some of the plants I need."
Meanwhile, the beholding figure hunched his shoulder feeling unsettled by the man's searching gaze. As the man turned his back he considered it best to leave. Placing more weight that he should on his wounded leg, he jerked in pain, causing the tree branches to shake and shed the snow down. Panicked he bolted to run away.
Régnwald frowned, slightly looking to her without words but before he could give a snort, the sudden sound and move near the trees caught his attention. He stiffened. Turning around and reaching for his sword in quick move, he would crash through the trees to find the owner of the unwelcome act, lips in a line, wildly determined.
Wychtleth looked back at the direction of the noises. She hummed, instead, focused on the fire again.
Iswyrg crawled under the trees as deft as a wildcat finally making to the path where he could run. A tall lanky hooded figure emerged from under the foliage of the trees, dressed in clothes that have seen better days. He held a crude spear in hand and there was a bow hanging from his back. Out in the open though his wounded leg betrays him and he yells in pain trying to force himself go faster.
A grim smile tugged at the corners of the warrior's mouth as he followed the poorly running figure. Nothing escaped his attention. Whoever entered this forest tonight, would not enter unnoticed. The sword was hungry for the foe's blood, and he felt its weight on his left side, eager to be drawn and so he unsheathed, just before crashing into Iswyrg with a heavy bump of shoulder. ''YARGHH..''
Iswyrg loosed his footing and fell prawn on the ground, landing on the snow with a cry of pain. He would be moving hands and feet to crawl back away when he felt the steel over his neck. And so he held still, feeling his heart throbing inside his chest
Régnwald hardened his eyes now in ire, cold as the feeling of the sword. As the man held still, his free hand reached for the hood to pull it down. ''I do not wish for bloodshed unless I have to. Now speak quickly, -- who are you, who sent you?'' he roared, the firm grasp shook the man from his shoulder as his question was uttered.
Iswyrg trembled under the man in fear for his life. As his hood was pulled, his white long mane was revealed. He kept his face against the ground hiding it, and murmured in the strangely hoarse voice of a man caught between boyhood and adulthood. "Iswyrg, my father called me Iswyrg."
Régnwald watched him a beat with a studying look. Eventually lowering his sword, he stared out across the trees, stealing a dark, brooding look. He cast his eyes upon him and a bitter sigh escaped the confines of his mouth. ''Where is your father, Iswyrg?''
Iswyrg tried to catch his breath. He stammered. "Dead... he's dead."
Régnwald eyed him a beat, now the wild mood in him waning as the moment passed. The hardened warrior furrowed his brow as he looked back the way they had come earlier, halfway between question and accusation. Sparing the young man a stern look ''Follow me.'' 'twas uttered lowly in something akin to compassion by the armoured Eorling's side. He headed back to the camp.
Iswyrg got to his feet, he rubbed on his aching member and looked at the free road ahead. He considered his chances, then leaned over to take his wooden spear and follow pulling up his hood shyly.
Régnwald straightened, he rammed the sword in its sheath, and the blade, hungry still, found its home. He strode to the camp, an eye secretly checking the boy, fingers subconsciously working the collar of the heavy leather cloak with the cape of wolf-fur over his shoulders, he tightened it around his neck.
Wychtleth has been sitting quietly, moving her feet close to the fire to warm them.
The warrior sent the woman a question as he neared the fire ''Have you seen this man?'' he gestured at Iswyrg.
Iswyrg limbed over pressing his hand over his aching leg. As he approached the camp, his fear that has subsided for a while again grew and he looked around for the safest way to flee just in case.
Wychtleth looked back at Régnwald. She raised a brow before looking at the boy, "No. Never."
Régnwald casted a glance at her in disbelief though it wasn't one without no certanity. ''I'm beginning to think all is just a game of the Witan...'' he thought outloud, swirling his gaze between them ''Were you following her, lad?'' a serious glimpse ''-- Now she's with us, and so you're.'' he paused with a look of discomfort.
Wychtleth shook her head, laughing, "I have nothing to do with the Witan. I was just looking for certain plants."
Iswyrg lowered his head, his hands hanged from each side of his body gawky. He shrugged his shoulders to explain. "She was lost."
Régnwald firmed his jaw, not adding the words of his own, and then turned to the lad ''As if you were not?'' The tired expression in his dark green eyes spoke louder than words, eyes glistened with a point already known..
Iswyrg narrowed his eyes. The blue in them was strange, deep and glassy as if a couple of gems were planted into his eyesockets. His skin was pale matching the ice that was covering the land. He retorted to the challenge proudly. "I cannot be lost here, this is my home."
Régnwald pursed his lips pensively and took his time to consider his answer while he watched the snowflakes melt on his straw-hued eyebrows. ''You have a family?''
Iswyrg glanced at him with suspicion and fear, even if both would serve him little now. "I do yes! many of them" He managed to lie and taking heart from it he raised his voice a bit higher to sound like a proper man. "Who are -you-? What are you doing here?"
Wychtleth looked back. She chuckled, "He's just a boy. Either kill him to avoid strangers passing word of you or make sure he doesn't speak to anyone."
Régnwald frowned a little suspiciously at the sudden rise in the lad, which was both in voice and manners. He scanned the ground for a bit before meeting his gaze. ''I --'' he was interrupted by the witch, ''Well, you know what? I'm more suspicious of you. So would ye have me try 'em on you instead?'' he glanced upon her keenly.
Iswyrg glanced sideways towards the road, he shuffled his feet a bit that way in case he had to run. ''She... she was lost in the snowstorm, no one was following your path when you entered the woods...'' Iswyrg nodded at Régnwald reassuringly He looked at the woman as if she was the strangest of creatures, then looked up at the man, to check if he shared his view of the matter.
Wychtleth turned to look at him. She laughed before leaning back on the ground, "You would be doing me a favor to end me here."
Régnwald closed his eyes for a brief length, cursing inwardly for his fortune as he shook his head. Thereafter his eyes landed on Iswyrg, now with some mustered firmness ''You must not fear me. I'm Régnwald, with my band of men I came here, for a cause.'' he remained still as his words sank.
Wychtleth stood up to finally face them both, "Régnwald, the soft-hearted; Wolf's Head of Forlaw. I would be surprised if he harmed either of us."
Iswyrg sank his wooden spear on the ground. "What cause? You should not be here!" Then as Wycht spoke he looked at Régnwald curiously, inspecting his head. He appeared confused.
Régnwald struggled to muster his words then ''Erh.. to hunt orcs.'' he stated briefly, gazing aside, his eyes found the maiden in some anger, firming his jaw with a fierce look. ''You,'' he paused, answering with a gulp ''You should be of better use in cooking than barking, eh.'' he gestured at the group of snowrabbits that lay dead beside the logs.
Iswyrg gave Régnwald an incredulous look, that grew into primitive suspicion as he mentioned food sharing.
Wychtleth stepped close to him, grinning widely. She leaned forward, pushing her limit to how close she could be to him without touching him, "You trust me to cook?"
The man stood tall, looking her in the eye, he kept his habitual, stoic self ''Can't be worse than Hondscioh or Langhund, eh.'' he moved his shoulders lightly in a shrug.
Iswyrg didn't move at all, uncertain of what to do as sociable as a log. Though the two coming close to each other seemed to stir some interest in him. So he stared.
Wychtleth hummed as she read his face, "You have been away from proper food." She looked at the lad with a grin, "Both of you, I guess."
Iswyrg looked at Wycht vacantly, more so he looked behind her at the rabbits. He sticked his spear repeatedly on the ground as a sign of impatience.
Régnwald would not respond to her in the same way, remaining firm, he gazed upon the lad and nodded silently, a welcoming nod 'twas. Soon he would leave the two without words, but he was not going far, only to care his horse.
Wychtleth shook her head, laughing, "Come boy. Let's get something cooking."
Iswyrg looked at the woman, it took him some time to understand she meant him. He took a couple of steps towards and stood over her head, pretty much as he stood before.
