Rhoana awoke to a peaceful dawn. The sound of a gentle breeze hummed its way through the blades of grass and a blanket of blue sky and clouds passed over-head. She found herself amongst brush and stone and a sudden, swift reminder of her predicament came to the fore through throbbing pain. She took to her feet, the passing of hours unknown as she hurriedly made her way across the fields.
By the light of day she could see the gentle sloping plains dip northwards, clustering’s of trees and the outcroppings of rocks lined the horizon. She was within the Eastern Bree-fields, not far from the river which passed through Trestlebridge on its way to Nen Harn. The distance to Bree-town was manageable on foot, Rhoana knew this, though the thought of returning there seemed implausible. She had said her goodbyes, as limited and unforgiving as they were. No, returning would mean defeat, though she couldn’t deny a strange feeling in her gut. She had known Olver was residing somewhere within the Northern fields, a farmstead, she could seek him; rest, heal, find comfort. In honesty, she had no idea of the whereabouts of him or his current residence; it would require much searching and delay. So she strode onwards for many leagues on angered limb, crossing the greenway and travelling westwards.
Her stride was halved, the land seemed to stretch and distort beyond her vision. Resting little, she fought the battles going on in her mind and the resistance of her body. She had made it to the stretches of the Brandywine in haste, despite her ailments; few days had passed and she had wandered through the night. There was something within her, spurring her onwards on errand and duty. The thoughts of Lahja, her coming union and the expectation of Rhoana’s presence, pushed her onwards; though she was uncertain of how many days had passed or whether she had missed it.
The sun sank over the mountains west of the lake. Rhoana had made a camp in the town used for infrequent trade by the Lumi-väki, Ost Forod. The men and women there had seen to her prolonged wounds in simple manner and she had finally taken some lengthier rest. She perched at the edge of the lake, dipping her feet in the chilled water as she watched the sun set. She inspected the damage her shin had taken as she gradually began to clean the encrusted mud from armour and skin.
She was not far from the borders, the last outpost in the lands of vibrant grasses. It would only be a half days travel or so until the wind would turn colder and bitter. Thoughts meandered from her family, Lahja, Riku to the brigands as worry loomed over. It was not only her injuries that were attempting to make her stay, there was something else; a strange uncertainty…
