After his brief meeting with the guardsman before the northern gates of Snowbourn Redwick had gone to the only place where thought that he would find peace, or rather his own perception of peacce: The tavern. There he got himself a drink of mead and sat alone at a table, not seeking to draw the attention of others for he did not wish it. His fingers wrapped around his mug and he stared into his drink silently, a hard solemn look coming unto his features. It was though all his troubles have just returned to bother him again and he could not merely cast it aside. And he was unusually reluctant to drink his mead, those who are familiar with Redwick would very much know that he very seldom hesitated to drink any alcohol and when he did there was something dire troubling him. A voice suddenly spoke, "Oi, westu Red hal!" He said as he took a seat at the other end of Redwick's table, "What's this? Your mug has not yet been touched!" Redwick looked to the blonde haired man who now sat there, grinning faintly at him. Redwick lofted a single brow and blew at a strand of flaxen hair that had gone astray and sat before his face, "I am... preparing my witts to lose themselves." He said in response, showing obvious apathy in his tone which he kept a bit low as he spoke. His lie was not easy to perceive for his friend, thus the man laughed mirthfully at those words; thinking them to be true.
Now this was one of Redwick's old friends, those whom he had had many drunken adventures with. They were once seldom seen parted and stirred trouble more often than they should have, or if either stirred trouble alone the other would be somehow dragged into the business and soon found both of themselves in trouble when caught. During the time when Redwick had not been in Snowbourn the two of them have been separated for a long while until Redwick had returned. He had learned of what happened that day when he arrived in a town many, many leagues away from Snowbourn. Or at least half the tale was known by his friend.
"Red." He said to Redwick, frowning faintly as he had noticed Redwick's lack of mirth that morning, "Ever since you have come again to Snowbourn you have seemed different, you have changed, Red. I do not know if it is for the better or the worst, I know little of you now and you are not as... amusing to linger about as you once were, Red. You have seldom share tales of what has happened to you within lands out of our boarders. I am sorry, Red, but I cannot be certain of what has changed you so but I have a good guess." Redwick eyed him warily as he continued to speak and in a low tone, "It is that woman, Red. When since has it been that Red the Renowned Drinker(who bested the fattest man in Snowbourn in a drinking game) showed true affection for a lass? This is wrong, Red! She has changed you, can you not see what you have become? Depressed and miserable, you know well how many other lads have suffered the same torment and yet now you- who I had last expected to fall prey to a woman's love has fallen." At those final words Rediwck stood up swiftly and cast a solid glare at his friend, his hand held a fist in ire and he drawn the attention of other patrons. He squinted his eyes and turned to make for the door, slamming it behind himself as he left and as he stood with the door behind himself he heard that there was a brief eerie silence in the tavern.
He cursed loudly before he had hurried off to the stables where Goldwine, Therwen's steed stood and he caressed the horse's head and considered speaking to Goldwine, for at times when he was felt at loneliest he would do so as if Goldwine would speak back to him. He did indeed sound as one who had just knocked his head hard as he held a one-sided conversation with Goldwine. He has before thought that the horse had given him counsel when had merely given it to himself, for in his mind he perceives what Goldwine might be thinking and what he would say if he could speak to Redwick. But this day Redwick's lips were sealed and his face turned solemn. He shook his head before climbed into the saddle of the steed and rode off into the snow-covered fields of the Sutcrofts.
It is difficult to say where Redwick had gone to and what he did that day, but by the time he had returned the sun was setting with an orange dusk behind the mountains, shedding the the last of it's light upon the snow and causing it to glisten beautifully.
