Marnewyn

Hildegund rode slightly in the lead, eyes on her hounds as well as the trees and ground, not letting any single sight occupy her attention for too long unless it seemed to warrant a real look. Marnewyn followed along, watching similarly, though more so at trees and ground since she was not used to trying to figure out the hounds.

Being in so much pain except when she was willing to admit the need for the salve was probably not a good thing. Fang was definitely letting her know that he didn't think she was being sensible. But she hated seeing the reaction on her wife's face and in her body language about how its numbing effect felt on her hands.

Leoffrith is trying not to pace. The ruins, kind of lonely and noble in their austerity, let in the sunshine of a lovely day, but there's no decorations beyond the stones; all the celebration is to happen elsewhere, after the ceremony. Leoffrith fidgets in his gold-bedecked tunic.
Taite hobbles over the sunlit grass, smiling as the weather whispers of coming spring. Demurely holding up the front of her skirt a little, she pauses when she sees Leoffrith, then nods in relief when he invites her in.

Making her way back to her work-site at the trapping company's camp was one of the hardest things she'd ever had to do. It took her through the field that was still being cleared of orcs and piled up for burning, and past the feasting ravens. At least there wasn't that much sign left of what her traps themselves had wrought, even though the plan worked well, and it had only been the enemy that got hurt.

"Hullo, ma'am. Are you lost?"

Jessandra looked up to see what had prompted that comment from Orred. She had to squint a little against the glare from the sun, but then waved as the approaching figure finally spoke.

Heriwulf is using the hand-cart to bring archery targets and hay bales out into a clear space within the stockade, and setting up the targets atop the hay bales.
Jessandra breaks off the sizing up she's been doing with Marney and wanders over. "Need help with that? Or would it be too much bother to tell someone else how?"
Heriwulf | Hundr runs up to Jessandra as soon as she approaches and gives her a cheerful yip. Brenn and Dalgo, on patrol around the stockade (but mostly staying near the entrance) don't seem much interested in her.

Sitting in the firelight at the barracks in Harwick, her gear piled around her chair, the diminutive scout wrote in a makeshift journal. She'd bought a meal and some mead from the bartender, and thus hadn't yet worn out her welcome in that room, and expected to be on her way before she had to buy more.

I'm writing this in Harwick, which I'm about to leave – probably for the last time. Can't quite write down why yet, but I don't expect I'll ever have reason to return.

Having not much else to do for once, between storms and repair work, Marnewyn sat down with her daughter's writing desk and implements to write back to her, and hoped she'd catch a courier heading south  – which might even be the same one as had brought her letter north. Failing that, she'd have something written for when more people would travel in the spring.

Dear Adri,

Been a while where I weren't goin' so often to the Pony on account there was supper waitin' for me back home, now Lumina lives there with me, but she been away a little while now doin' some business of her own -- not sure what, maybe her healer work. So I'm back to having supper at the Pony most nights, and sometimes lunch too, and so I been seein' other folk, which has been nice.

Opening the letter that had been left for her with Barliman, Marnewyn settled down to give it a good read. The publican hadn't known the person who brought it, and didn't really remember much about him. A "road-worn traveller" was all he really had to say on the matter.

She broke the seal with one hand, opening it up as she sipped from her ale. Her brows rose. "Seems the girl's lettering has improved quite a bit." The surprised utterance was nearly at a full volume, but she quieted then as her eyes scanned the contents.