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They say that the Nightingale will travel any distance to find a perfect place for itself.
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The morning pushed the very last of dawn’s pink hue from the sky and Fastia found herself weary. It’d been a good few hours since she’d rolled out of bed to fetch a new pitchfork and handaxe from the neighbouring town of Bree (for Masters Cloverdale and Sandheaver respectively) as well as a little stock of supplies for the coming days. It was tiring work at times, but it was worth it. Fastia felt useful, and that was enough for her.
Sleepily, she stumbled into the Prancing Pony for a well-earned slice of respite before she would be needed, or at least before anybody from Combe would call after her. She followed the sound of Master Ninetails expertly plucking at his lute, to the main section of the inn and wandered over to the bard, twirling once and offering a wink of approval. Quietly, she found a spot by the fire and settled in for however long she could afford.
It was bustling that morning – several folk who seemed to know one another quite well were exchanging encouraging glances and warm words. Smiling to herself, Fastia swore she too would find a group to call her own. But before long the thought of work made itself present in her mind. She was off again and paused by the fountain.
Odd.
She could have sworn she’d seen that young man sitting there since the fading of foredawn. Amused, she sat and spoke with him for a long while. Whether it was her startlingly pale hair or her enthusiasm for adventure, she wasn’t so sure but he’d been quick to pick up on the fact the she wasn’t local.
But wasn’t she?
Originally, ethnically, perhaps not but for almost a full cycle of the seasons she’d called the Bree-lands her home. As he spoke on, she realised that this indeed was something to question and consider. After all, was this not why she had been working so hard, training so diligently and practising so eagerly what the Grey Warden had taught her? Fastia’s hand flew instinctively to her neckline, where she wore a small silver locket.
She would not forget.
But she knew now that one day she would have to decide where her home truly was.
