Fidgeting in her bedroll once again, Adriwyn considered what had triggered her memories to surface again in her dreams, and make her such a nuisance to those trying to sleep around her.
It's been… I still don't know how long. I stopped counting the years. I just didn't care any more. She shook her head, fighting back tears again as the images of finding the charred, desiccated little body under the fallen joist resurfaced, along with the smells, and the horrible feeling, knowing, but not wanting to believe… turning the body over, and exposing the bit of patterning on the dress and the doll that, thanks to being pressed so hard against the dirt floor, had escaped the flames, confirming Lanniwyn's identity.
The archer stuffed the much-abused bandaging bundle into her mouth again to stifle any renewal of her sobbing, choking back her grief as best she could. Should've been me! Why couldn't that beam that hit me have been that one? Keep me pinned, give her room to get out… people would have taken her in. She was only ten! The cloth in her bite found its purpose for a moment as she struggled for control.
She shook her head, remembering what her mentors at Faldham had told her about such feelings. Swuste told me they had a name for it. "Survivor's guilt," she called it. She sighed, and tried to force her mind away from those older memories, and back to the recent events that had triggered them.
The captured looter was a local crofter, and one who hated Willelm for just being born half-Dunlending. It isn't like he had anything to do with that himself! Even if, in his case, it's true – unlike the rumours people made up about me. She shook her head at herself again, trying not to dwell on her own issues. And they all felt that way. Or, well, enough that the rest felt they had to go along. So he had no help clearing stones from the fields, or thatching, or anything else where two or three people do so much better than one, and even when you spread it around to everyone's holding, it gets done faster and better. She sighed inwardly, perhaps overly mindful of the noise she made after her earlier nightmare. Still doesn't excuse going off to be a raider – though I don't know how much he was aware of what he was joining up with, either. He had a bow, and a quiver – one he noted was still full, even. He could have done what I did – took up hunting. But maybe he wasn't sure enough of that, or didn't think of it.
She shifted her position, trying for a bit more comfort despite the pain in her arm and hip. And then there's the matter of how a crofter turned hunter and archer like me winds up hob-nobbing with so many thanes. I really need to watch my mouth more, for all some of them don't seem to mind. It's going to get me in real trouble one of these days. And try to watch how much I wear my reactions on my face. I'm glad Lord Aethelwyne wasn't upset at me, for all I shouldn't have been surprised. Not really. Of course a thane has things to do that keep them at home. That's why people like me… well, get to have the lives we do, I suppose. Faldham should have taught me that, for all I didn't quite figure it out straight away.
She shifted again as she reached for the knife Thorvall had given her earlier, caressing the carving of its hilt for something to occupy her hand. I suppose that's why Lady Haeneth hasn't met up with us yet. At least… I hope it's not because I've been too much of a pest to her – Oh, stop it! Don't be more of an idiot than you can help! She turned onto her side, deliberately embracing the pain in her wounds this time, to focus on that instead of her feelings. Ow! But this I can deal with. After a moment, she turned again, lessening the pressure on her side. Enough of that, or I'll have to hear about it, from healers again besides. Washing-day… think on that. I suppose I'll have to wear that shirt again for washing the things that need it. Only almost-clean thing I have. It shows more than I'd like, but when the alternative is literally nothing.... She broke off in a quiet sigh, shaking her head again. Not that anyone would likely really notice. It's not like I'm all that eye-catching, or that people don't have things to do. But I really should look into getting a proper shift, or at least the means to fix one up.
Finally deciding that thinking on clothes and washing might keep her other memories at bay while she slept, she turned over onto her un-injured left side and nestled into her bedroll. And maybe even think on those songs in Lady Dytha's book… she said she wanted to talk over what ones I liked…. With such more pleasant thoughts, she drifted off for what little remained of the night.
