Ambyre was utterly confused and caught unawares. Why would her grandmother, the one who always scolded her and never saw a beacon of hope for her, wish her to change, become a lady and even marry a deceasing lord at her father’s age? She would not know. There were too many questions for this Eorling’s mind to bear. So she shared this burden with her best friend and mounted her beloved steed. She rode hard. She rode fast into the night. Her steed was feeling her unease so was at unease.
She rode back to the town for the night was not safe even for her. Silent and eerie night stirred things in her, things that she always paid efforts to keep sleeping at dark places. She felt small and vulnerable. She hated it, she had always hated feeling this way. Crushing her anger and frustration at the dummies in the dead of the night, she had to confess that she could not fight it anymore. She had to confess it. She spit on the ground.
Something was awakening inside her, something she long feared, neglected, ignored and forgotten. This power scared her again. She wiped her tears with her own sleeves and decided to ignore it for good.
