“De Bea- wha?!” Furley exclaimed, unsure of how to respond to the man. “What kind of a name is that?”
“What kind of name is Furley? So… common. I knew this was a land of farmers but come on now”.
Furley looked at the man, still unable to work him out, though feeling much less irritable at him and now more curious. “Alright, then. Why are you tracking me?”
“What makes you think I am” Davamir responded, idly, though him passiveness was clearly a play at goading Furley further for amusement.
“Well… how did you find me?”
“I didn’t” he replied, casually picking at some strange dried fruit the likes Furley hadn’t seen before.
After that, Furley chose to respond by not responding, and turned again to the fire, wincing as he moved his leg. This seemed to make the youthful man in the hood sit up a little more, as if vexed that his game had lost a participant.
“Question for you, lad” Davamir asked, cheekily. “What are you doing out here, alone, in the wilderness? You don’t look like a man comfortable off the road”.
“My business is my own” he responded, flatly.
“Then what are you doing, crossing blades with the bloodhound” came a voice from his left, making him almost jump out of his skin. “And what were you doing camping by someone else’s cargo, Furley of Combe” she asked. At least, he assumed it was female from the sound, though it also sounded stern and harsh.
“How do you know my name?” he enquired. “It seems a remarkable amount of people know more about my business in the wilds than in the towns” he finished, before a blade shot forth right into the ground where he sat, and he jumped back in his seat as he jerked away in surprise, causing his pain to flare in his legs as he fell to the floor.
What he hadn’t realized is that he had unwittingly gone to grab his blade, and the new shadowy figure had noticed the movement. Davamir merely chuckled beside him, fully amused and filled with mirth at Furley’s plight.
Walking over to him, the woman, clad in black, offered him her forearm to help him back to his feet. Not the hand, though, he thought to himself, making a mental note. How strange. He took her arm gratefully, and she helped him hobble back to his seated position. He took a peer under the hood and could’ve sworn he saw a scar on her cheek not unlike that of a fishhook.
“There are more people that know your business than you believe, Furley” she said, and Davamir merely grinned, allowing her to talk. “Though this is indeed a chance meeting. I never intended to bump into you again”.
“Again?! Who the hell are y-”
“Don’t talk to her like that” Davamir growled, suddenly almost bearing his teeth, flashing briefly with anger before she shot him a look, and he steadied himself again, picking more at his dried fruits.
“Ah, that’s interesting” Furley grinned, but when he looked at the shadowy woman, his face dropped again, feeling her seriousness and lack of humour in the present.
“What’s interesting is what you were doing antagonising them? And why your Company cargo was out here in the first place?”
Furley shrugged. “Not my Company anymore. I had my reasons for leaving, but largely leaving Bree behind was the true aim”
“So, it was merely be chance that you bumped back into the bloodhound?”
Furley looked so confused, and his face showed it. “Bumped back into? Eh? Why do you know so much about him?”
“Because I’ve been following him for several weeks” she said, flatly.
“Can’t leave ‘til her business is sorted” Davamir chimed in.
“The man’s a menace, and they’ve done… things. Things that mean he cannot be left unchecked in Bree”
“I see” Furley replied. “And where can he be left, then?”
“Exactly where I left him” the woman responded.
“And where did you leave him?” he queried, narrowing his eyes.
“Tsk tsk tsk, so many questions” she responded. “The real question, though, is where do we leave you?”
“Right where you found me would be ideal” he replied, smiling, though she didn’t falter. “Is she always this serious?” Furley asked Davamir.
“You have no idea” he responded, chuckling. “Though credit where it’s due, it has a place in this world. So, where are you headed, Furley of Combe?”
“East” he responded. “You?”
“South” Davamir replied. “At least, we shall be when the time comes. We have business here in the north that needs attending to. Or, rather, her business to attend to my mess that I’ve left behind for the lot of you, isn’t that ri-” he finished, being cut off as he realised the woman had slipped away unnoticed as quickly as she’d arrived.
“Always on the move, that one” he chuckled. “I choose not to question it anymore. She’s probably heard a footstep a mile out headed our way, or something. If you ask me, she’s the real bloodhound” he finished, before handing Furley a skin of wine.
Furley looked at it, contemplating for several moments, before deciding against it and waving it away with a smile. “Who is she?” he asked.
“The Lady Dru” he responded. The brightest shadow in my life” he chuckled. “I don’t know what I’d do without her”.
“I have someone like that, somewhere” Furley smiled, faintly.
“Is that the reason for your journey?” Davamir asked, to which Furley nodded, and for the first time, Davamir’s features changed to look almost sincere.
“You want my advice? If you have someone like that, do yourself a favour and don’t let duty get in the way. A man’s got to make choices in life, and realise what’s important to him. And if you want to know what I think” he sighed. “If you have someone that makes you feel like pride and honour come second, don’t throw it away for anything”.
They both smiled for a moment, before Lady Dru’s voice came from the trees behind them. “Girls” she said, and they both laughed. This time, when Furley was offered the wineskin, he took it.
“It’s going to be a cold night” Davamir said, finally. “I’ll get some more firewood. We’ll travel a ways together until the road parts, then we’ll say our farewells”
