mildwynn

When he woke from the fever there was strange looking healing equipment hanging off him. Winnie looked exhausted, Tarsorel had recovered somewhere nearby, Lavendara was crying, Silver looked weak, but they all seemed glad. Terrified and glad.

He had sand in his mouth. The feeling was memorable, jarring violet, brown and dark grey. The three mixed to create a hideous colour. It had sickened him the first time it happened. The same sort of retching feeling as nails on a chalkboard to some. Distinctive and repulsive. He was twelve back then, had fallen off the bottom of a wagon, and had never seen sand like this, out here in the dunes. 

Day two had passed quietly. However upon seeing a sketch in Winnie's book, Ryheric had sent Harold to Bree to request Silver's presence. When Harold returned, he brought with him a letter addressed to Ryheric from a dwarven leader of a small guild running out of the Harp and Hammer. "We have shared goals, come and meet with our company" the letter said. Ryheric had Winnie write his response. It said that indeed, if goals were shared, the dwarf's company would instead come to the Lonelands to help Ryheric's company fight orcs.