The wight stood several feet away, having stopped to look around. Eira waited, hoping it would go away. Instead, a bitterly cold and vile voice arose from it, icy eyes narrowing, "You cannot hide, mortal."
Eira gasped, it lunged for her. The half-Numenorean leapt up, pulling her sword from its sheath. Swampy water splashed around as the wight approached. Unwilling to let herself fall under its spell, she repositioned her staff and thrust, slamming the undead in the chest. As the sound of skeleton rattling and coin clinging sounded, Eira turned around and bolted through the lagoon. The mist swirled as she found herself knee deep in murky water. The disgusting liquid swished as she darted away, panting. Then, an arm reached out from below. Eira skidded her feet in the underwater mud as a second wight lunged from within the waves. Both to stop herself and to protect herself, she lunged with her sword, impaling the wight and stopping her momentum. As the blade slipped beneath the water with the wight, Eira side stepped and finally darted out of the swamp. She ran, soaked and revolting. She did not look back.
And she kept running. So long she ran through hills, fog, and reeds. Her lungs were on fire, her legs ached. Her sides were throbbing before she finally slowed down, catching her breath. She dropped her walking stick, hands on her knees as she fell to the ground. Thirst chained her mouth, begging for relief. Yet, she had used up her water and food supply before entering the Downs. For the first time, the fear of death gripped her in these lands.
As she panted, her thoughts drifted to her loved ones. Ristiinna serving people at the Prancing Pony, happy and gregarious. She then would notice Eira walking in and wave to her with a cheerful smile. Egfor joking about her crush on Nimraph in the orchards. Eira threatening to leave the basket of cherries and stalk into the Huntsman and Stag, leaving Egfor to work alone. Though of course, she never would. Demlemoth and Eira sitting at a table, sharing conversation and exploring her cover story as a tent dweller from Eryn Uial. Eira nodded, taking in every word, eager to learn more about the roll she played in this. She remembered Nimraph, the night they both escaped to the Pony to get away from the rambunctious sailors at the Stag. Then, they walked home and slipped quietly to the kitchen and brewed tea. Both relishing in their sweet tooths and each other's company, Eira had felt feelings stirring that night she had never felt before.
Ristiinna, Egfor, Demlemoth, Nimraph... Would she never see them again after all? Was she destined to die out here? Tears flooded her eyes. If she died here, no one could stand between them and the father who did not know she had died. Eira reached down and picked up her staff. She was exhausted, thirsty, and filthy from head to toe. Yet, she had to push on.
After catching her breath, she trudged on, scrapping her damp shoes through the tall grasses. She stumbled onwards, into any which direction. It was that same old scenery, the same old hills and fog. With the clouds blocking the sky and the mist coating the landscape, she had no way of telling if it was day or night. As she pushed on, she eventually noticed a tall shadow in the distance. She clung to her staff with dirtied fingers and approached the object. Walking closer, she drunk her own spit for relief from her thirst. She came closer to the structure, realizing it must be a building of sorts. Eventually, she approached from behind one of the Barrow's boulders and found herself standing before a set of ruins. The ruins of a Cardolan fortress.
