Blaecwyn stood upon the ridge, staring down into the barren valley. Below, on the blackened ashy rock, a warg prowled silently. Every now and then it lifted its nose to sniff at the air, then shook its furry haunches as if trying to break free of a particularly worrisome feeling.
Blaecwyn smiled. It knew she was here. It could smell her fading scent on the path but, as yet, it had not figured out that she stood above it, tracking its movements as surely as it tracked hers. Carefuly, so as not to disturb the ash beneath her feet, she crouched to pick up a rock. It was not a big rock, but then, it did not have to be.
Closer, closer... just a few more feet to the left...
She had played this game so many times and yet it never ceased to amuse her. It filled in the long, lonely hours when she was out here alone, like now. Better than that, it served a greater purpose when she found herself too battered or tired to fight any more.
That's it... just a few steps more...
Holding the rock at arms length, she paused just a moment longer before letting go. She fancied that she heard the makeshift projectile whistle as if fell. She imagined the satisfying crunch as the dense stone, as big as her two fists together, crashed through the bone and into the soft pinkish-grey matter beneath.
The legs of the warg buckled beneath the impact, slipping akimbo on the slippery floor, making it look as if a giant hand has simply pressed down on the creatures back to flatten it. No imaginary hand had caused the bright red blood to slowly flow out from the insulating fur of its head, however, although she found the gradually spreading pattern of tendrils to be quite pleasing to her eye. It seemed to her that the wargs last act on this earth was to spread the scent of its life fluid in a desperate bid for help. That, of course, would call more predators to the site which would bring more sport for her.
All she had to do was wait.
The weeks leading up to her solo return to Nan Gurth had been hectic, exhausting both emotionally and mentally.
Things had become more strained between she and Eovad. The usual friendly banter between the pair had, more often than not, suddenly turned to discussions of the relationship that neither was ready to pursue and yet both seemed to want. Not enough time had passed for either of them, there were still too many reservations on both sides and yet...
The longer it had gone on, the longer she had stayed, the worse it had got. Blaecwyn had trouble dealing with emotions at the best of times, but such deep and conflicting ones only served to confuse her, and confusion made her angry, resentful.
It had come to a head when she had seen him hugging a strange woman. The flash of jealousy she had felt at the time had been like a fist to the gut and she knew that she could do this no longer. She had to put a stop to the situation, had to break free of the chains that held her in place for both his sake and her own. So, with no further thought, she had taken the iron doorkey from behind her breastplate, marched straight over and placed it down on the barrel before the pair with a declaration that she was moving out.
That, unfortunately, had confused Eovad further for he knew not why she had chosen to leave his home and she had not the words to explain. He had come after her asking for answers, but she had none to give and had simply sent him away - after a long and unwelcome argument at least. If there was ever a person who would stand up to her when he thought it necessary and be ready to take whatever punches she threw when words failed her, it was him.
She had shortly moved back into Siward's manor house, but not before Eovad had caught up with her again. They had shared a long talk as she put her few belongings in the saddlebags of her fluffy steed and had managed to come to some sort of understanding. She did not know if he truly understood, but at last he had chosen to stand aside and make no further argument as she did as she thought was best.
Unfortunately, that reconcilliation had not lasted long for only days afterwards she had learned that he had been up to his old tricks again.
How she hated such things! Secrets and lies, theft, mercenary activities... She had thought his time as a bandit and worse was over when Avasa had crumbled, yet she learned that he, along with a few survivors of that despised group, had banded together once more to try recreating what they had lost. It made her sick to think of it!
How long had he been lying to her? How long had he been letting her believe something untrue? He had been taking her for a fool, treating her like an idiot, decieving and laughing at her for trusting him. Betrayal. That is what it was. Another betrayal by someone she cared for, by someone she would have done anything to protect.
She had barely restrained herself that day, her anger had been so great. She had wanted nothing more than to smash his pretty face into a bloody pulp, grind his bones to dust and spit on the remains. It would have been so satisfying to hit him, but she could not let herself. If she had started, she knew that she would never have stopped and murder, even for the likes of him, was wrong. He had lied to her, made a laughing stock of her, even made her a criminal for a short time after she had broken him out of jail those years ago, but she would not let him turn her into a mindless killer.
Instead, she had warned him never to pass into her sight again lest she use him as drake bait and left frustrated, angry and hurt.
Unable to control herself much longer, unable to stand the sight of a town crawling with black-hearted, back-stabbing wretches, she had stormed back to the manor, packed her things and rode once more to Angmar.
Ah... another...
She dropped another rock. There was quite a pile building now, but still the predators kept coming. The stench of death attracted them to the carcasses. Food was scarce in these lands and each corpse supplied precious sustenance to the other inhabitants. Cannibalism amongst the creatures of this area was commonplace and Blaecwyn knew without a doubt that once her arms grew tired and she decided to rest for the night, the offerings below would be descended upon. In the morning, not even bones would remain.
However, there was more than sport to her little game, for not only would the feast she provided cause those who gorged upon it to be slower and heavirt come the morn, thus easier for her to take down, but it would also stop those near enough feed from bothering to track her back up the long and winding path to her resting place.
She would sleep well tonight, for all the howling of the wargs, squawking of the cave-claws and roars of the distant drakes.
