Arthasdir watched Sparrow fall asleep beside him at the new camp as the group was joking to relieve the tension of the long night. Dawn had not yet approached despite the swift ride the Two had undertaken into the Greenway. She had said she intended to gather supplies from one of her hiding places as most of their former camp at Trestlebridge had been destroyed in the attack, but his gut told him to ride after her. She had appeared again just as the attack was launched on the unexpecting city, driving through the enemy lines from the northern side of the bridge. Weeks had passed without them meeting; he suspected strongly she was on her own travel ordered by Fiontann. Despite the severity of the moment he had to smile at her disguise and wondered if that was how her people used to dress for the hunt. Ah bitter the mix of joy and sorrow on her features as she took her place at the front lines. What had she encountered in her days alone? He remembered the fondness in her step as she walked beneath the trees from the ruin – the ruin where he had found the same emblem as on the coin from the lone lands carved into the crumbling wall. She was leading him into her heart, her past, her broken shadow of a former life. The wooden land and she were one he could feel the connection even though it was apparent how much Annundir had suffered. Just like her. Wargs could be heard howling in the depths of the trees afar, they were walking, ascended the slopes with their hands on the hilts of their weapons. He had to make sure no folly happened to them.
Sparrow stepped towards and through the gates with her heart forced to be devoid of emotion. It was broken, how strange. She could feel his presence walking behind her, present and past turning into a stream of images inside her mind. As they passed the remnants of the burned city upwards along the devastated road to the main market place every house, every cobstone called out to her with memories, faces, and voices while something inside her was tied to his calm assurance – she was not alone. Nothing stirred among the ruined buildings except for a flock of foul birds circling above the blackened roofs, cawing. Why was he not here? Had her fear played tricks on her all this time since she last passed here with Goatbeard and the Rangers? She was so sure to encounter him, something of him that would have her face her mistakes, give her a chance to repent…taunt her into despair… they passed the fountain, where he had stood erect, that cruel smile on his face on the day everything had come to haunt her. Sparrow shuddered and halted, her gaze passing over the Mayors house, the broken market stands the ash, clutter and dirt.
Arthasdir stepped to Sparrows side taking in what once had been a thriving town now derelict and beyond help. His eyes passed over the fountain, ash, and… faint remnants of blood. He moved his body to block her view and leaned down reading, then wiping away. There was no need for her to see what had been left for her, not yet. This message had been fresh enough to stay visible. They‘d better move and return to the others. His eyes narrowed in disapproval and glints of anger. What kind of coward played such cruel tricks on a woman he lays claim to? “A Sparrow always finds its way home…” but this now was not her home any longer. It lay with the Wanderers, him and he would make sure that it was more than her fear of her own past that would greet him should he ever dare to show his face amongst them. He turned to see Sparrow stir and motion at him to leave. Her voice sounded confused, unconvinced but also calm enough considering what she had just put herself through. As they stepped out of the gate onto the slopes once more he heard her whisper “Farewell…” and the tone of her voice chilled him to the bone. He caught up with her intent to lead her away when she started running, as fast as she could towards the trees and away. Forever away.
The woman reached the horses, readied the supplies and mounted, leading the way back towards Trestlebridge still in her hunting disguise. She could not talk, could not think hardly feel, her body ached from the fight although she had not been injured. Yes better to collect her thoughts on the fight while they rode, something was amiss there too, and they should find out what. The Orcs were not likely to have vanished for good that much was clear. Where had they retreated to? And why the sudden attack? All day Sparrow had been standing guard over the Greenway, just close enough to see the Bridge in the hazy distance. Everything was calm when all of a sudden the town guards sounded the alarm, what had they seen? Sparrow moved closer, unseen and witnessed a dangerous scene unfolding. The bridge was attacked by a force that appeared to come from the west, with ranged and melee fighters. She knew she had to move quickly if she wished to help defend the town or be stuck behind the forces unable to do little more than take care of stragglers and the rearguard. So it was that putting caution aside she attached her shield drew her blade and marched upon the main path to the bridge. A battle shout on her lips she dodged through the lines, small and writhy as she was, pushing aside surprised Orcs and came flying into what turned out to be faces she knew…what were they doing here? Of course! All wanderers must have been sent on mission, what luck they would meet here again.
There was little time to greet, a soon as she turned and took her place in the frontline the fight began. It was a good day for Sparrow, every move came out as intended and skilled and a good thing it was, she took down many enemies. The attack turned out wicked, soon the town defenders found themselves in the grip of two frontlines, from the bridge and from the river below! What a strange tactic this was, it felt as if the forces attacking retreated as soon as they took down their first line and then another attack would be sprung upon them from the other side of town. To what intent? Too few were the guards so the Wanderers had to move fast between two battlegrounds. Sparrow stood in the thick of things with Rothrian and Mathildah by her side, trying to keep the injured from too much danger. Sometime she saw Aerillien and Arthasdir run past as they took down sneaks of the enemy who intended to burn the city, but to no avail. Her fellows were not to be beaten, she could swear she even saw a Halfling in the midst of fighting throwing stones... But it was a close call and when the Orcs retreated finally they left Trestlebridge in uproar and chaos. What would happen next? Sparrow did not think the town could take many more attacks. They bought time, not peace.
When Arthasdir and Sparrow arrived at camp most of the company had gone to rest already, nursed their wounds and talked in whispers about what they assumed would happen next. For now they kept out of Trestlebridge but close enough to the Greenway. The Greenway, the trees, Annundir, ruins..Arthasdir…a dress? With a jumble of thoughts circling through the dark Sparrow fell asleep by the fireside.
