When Gwennol arrived back at her campsite, she saw Pren was awake. He sat on the ground, his long legs sprawled out as he gazed into the flames of the fire he must have rebuilt from the smoldering ash of the morning. He had a pensive or bored look on his face, she was no sure which as his beard hid so much of it and over half his visible face there was a smear of red ochre, three lines to be exact. War paint, she recognized, still fresh and wet.
Gwennol carried the basket full of greens and roots clean from washing. Cysgod flew ahead, cawing at Pren before landing on top of the wall. She approached, setting the basket down, she looked at him, "You are feeling better then?"
Pren nodded as he sat up some more, looking to Cysgod briefly. "Somewhat. Have to keep strong afterall... and to keep strong...lying about injured does not help."
Gwennol tugged up the robes to sit beside him, putting the basket in her lap, "No it does not but overdoing it before you're ready doesn't help much either."
She pulled a few green sprigs with white berries and set them aside. Brushing back her deep auburn hair, still damp underneath from her earlier bath, she looked at him, "I will make an offering for your health, though some meat would be preferable my traps were empty. Once you are healed, what will you do?"
Pren nodded slightly, glancing at her as he scratched his beard, "Wander."
Gwennol met his dark gaze, her curiosity about why both were there in the strange place at the same time bubbled to the surface. "Does Rhi Helvarch guide your path or do you wander for restlessness?"
Pren said, 'I wander where I want. Sometimes the spirits tell me where to wander but that is rare.'
Gwennol tilted her head thoughtfully. Pren was a man of few words and less understanding of the spirit world than she had. Though sometimes it felt as if the more she knew, the more questions she had about what guided their lives. "I came because the spirit of the Boar lead me but I do not know why, these lands have forgotten the Huntsman, the people are disconnected from the spirits." She was quiet for a moment, rolling a mistletoe berry between her fingers as she looked into the flames, and said softly, "I miss home."
"Then return," he said nonchalantly.
She shook her head, "You make it sound so simple but none of the signs I've received seem to mean for me to return so soon. I...admit I'm a bit lost at the moment."
The young Derudh blushed at the admission, ducking her head to concentrate on separating the tangle of vegetation. The mistletoe and small purple flowers were among the sacred plants that would be used to commune with spirits and cleanse herself in hope of understanding Rhi Helvarch's meaning. Some she could not find in the northern land but there was enough that she prayed it would work.
The big warrior replied, "You said there are no spirits here. In Dunland, there are many.. why not return and find out what you must do? They may tell you to stay or go again."
Gwennol took a deep breath, nodding slowly, "I suppose you are right, perhaps I cannot hear them but I don't think this land completely lacks spirits, they just have been forgotten, perhaps they have forgotten how to communicate as well? I don't know, I am not so wise. It is such a long journey, with such dangers. I had many close encounters that I just barely escaped. I came and I saw what this land held and I must return, to tell my mentor."
"Dangers?" Pren looked over her, examining her slight form, "Then I will take you. Men know to fear me.. and those that don't soon learn."
Gwennol paused and looked at him, "I am certain they know to fear you. I admit, if you were not so wounded I would have as well." She chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully before speaking, "I suppose I could not have a better guardian, you know the way and you are one of my kinsmen." She gazed at him for a long moment, "I want to trust you, Pren. For your strength is mighty."
"Then trust me. I trust you. You saved me, cut my binds and healed my wounds," he gestured to the bound sword gash.
Gwennol nodded, "But I am a healer, it is what I do. I could not turn away from you." She sighed and then her lips flickered in a smile, "Perhaps you washed up for a reason."
"And what reason could that be?," Pren sat up straighter, his head cocked slightly to the side as he looked at her.
"To be my guide, to aid my return home," she said, shrugging her slender shoulders.
"Maybe so," Pren said, 'It is hard to tell with the spirits.'
Gwennol smiled a little, "So very true, even to those that have given their lives to the Derudh." She tucked her long hair behind her ear, "If that is so, then I want to leave as soon as you are fit. I have nothing here. And I think if there are men that wish to try to finish the job of killing you, then it is best we leave soon."
Pren returned the small smile ever so slightly. "We leave by the end of the moon. Or I hope so at least."
Gwennol looked up at the craban preening on the wall, "You hear that, Cysgod, we're going home." The bird quorked and ruffled his feathers, flapping his wings to stretch.
She breathed deeply and glanced towards Pren, "I feel as if a weight as been lifted that I did not know was there."
Pren flexed his arms as he spoke with a decisive nod, "It takes strong men to lift weights."
Gwennol grinned a little, a soft chuckle in her throat, "Then I will use your strength as much as I can."
She looked at the fire for a moment, "Home is in Enedwaith for the last few years, but lately I've been wanting to return to where I grew up."
Pren says, 'Where is that?'
"The land of the Turch Luth, to the south. I left when I was thirteen, when I was called to the service of Rhi Helvarch," she replied, a faint trace of wistfulness in her voice.
Pren thought for a moment, his face blank with a small frown that he usually has that gave him a rather threatening expression. "The Boars?"
Gwennol lifted the talisman on her neck, an antler tine carved with the sigil of the Huntsman flanked by twin boar tusks, wrapped in bronze wire. "I was born to them." She noted the expression on his face, "What is it?"
"The Boars are gone," the big warrior replied, "Burnt by Dragon fire. Beat by Falcon claw and skewered by Ox horn."
Gwennol clutched the necklace tightly, her knuckles turning white as the tooth and antler ground against eachother. She stared at him, unable to breathe for a moment, "What do you mean?" The Derudh could feel the pulse pound in her ears as her intuition answered the question but she needed to hear it from him, "And you know this how?"
Pren replied simply, "Word spread through Dunland quick."
Gwennol looked closely at him, her river colored eyes boring to his as she recalled his tattoos, nearly every major tribe had been represented, save the Turch Luth.
Her voice cracked slightly and she put her slim hand to her mouth, pulling her knees to her chest. "You swear you just heard about it?
He looked at her and continued, "And, I was there."
Gwennol breathed out sharply, staring at him before she pushed herself to her feet, "You are alive, you were not on the side of the Boar. How many...how many did you kill?" Her eyes shone in the firelight, tears threatening to spill over, "How many women did you take, girls?!" Her voice broke and she turned away, her slender shoulders shaking as she cried, not only for those lost but of the haunting memories that sprang forth from the dark corners of her mind.
Pren got up, standing strong and proud as he always did, his chest puffed out, "I did as the Hunstman commanded."
Gwennol shook her head, "Lies! He would not command the slaughter of his own people!"
"He would to those people that did not want to get his and our original lands back," Pren pointed out, his voice remaining even as she reacted to the news.
Gwennol turned back to stare him, tears streaking her freckled face, 'So killing them all is the answer! I knew...I had a feeling when I saw your markings. Then maybe He sent you to finish the Boars?" She looked up at him, small and vulnerable before his bulk but with fire in her eyes.
Pren said, 'No. I was sent South more. To raid and kill like I am supposed to do but I came North.. to get my revenge on those that left me to die."
Gwennol grimaced, half believing him, "As you said, the spirits speak in mysterious ways." She licked her lips, her hands in tight fists, "I still cannot believe that the Huntsman would command such a thing, he protects us."
The memory of the raid that killed many and lead her to the path of the Derudh came roaring back. The fire and the screams, the panic scramble of her feet as she tried to run away from the raider, her goats scattering in the stony hills as the man grabbed her around the waist. He had been strong, so very strong. Like Pren. But even great strength can give way to fear and awe. Gwennol sobbed out, "Rhi Helvarch protected me!"
"He protects the ones that do him good," Pren shrugged, "The Boars, would not fight for him and his lands, not doing him good."
Gwennol rubbed her face, turning away once more, unable to look at him. "And the children and elders? What was there fault? I know it is our way, to make war and the strongest conquer but it is hard...hard to bear."
She took a deep shuddering breath, her slender shoulders slumping a bit, "Especially when you are not strong."
"That is why there is more than warriors," Pren headed over and put a hand on her shoulder, both to tell her to turn around and to reassure her, "Druids, hunters, washers, elders, Chiefs."
Gwennol slapped his hand away, "Don't touch me, I've experienced enough of the way a warrior touches a woman to last me a life time." Her face is pale now and she trembled. "I care not to relive it."
She called to Cysgod and spoke to Pren, without looking at him, "I am hurting right now, I wish to be alone. I know the way of things but it does not ease the pain of knowing my entire family, my kin and blood is gone."
"Fine, go and be alone. But remember.. it had to be done, to please Him. If not.. then our stolen lands will be forever theirs," Pren grunted before he turned and headed off into the ruins, grabbing his axe and furs.
She watched him go out of the corner of her eye, stroking Cysgod along his back as he perched on her arm, making soft gurgling sounds and poking her gently with his long black beak. Gwennol murmured to him and the craban hopped up onto her shoulder and began to groom and preen her hair as he would a fellow bird's feathers.
