As Rose put away the new fabrics, she thought back to the day and the conversation she had with the strange woman. Aneira. Rose still struggled with the fact that the woman did exist, but there had been little doubt once she'd seen her eyes and none once the woman started filling in the blank spaces of the tale.
A tale, Rose thought, that she'd been extremely fortunate to survive.
Merry had spent the whole trip home incessantly asking questions, so much so that Rose had barely had a chance to breath from answering them all. But she managed, somehow, to remain sane and filled Merry in on what she had learned that day. By the end Merry had stopped, her mouth agape as she merely listened Rose recount the woman's final day in the place she called 'the hall' and her battle with the cun annun – which she learned were much like dogs but vicious and ruthless in their attacks.
Rose shivered as she recalled how Aneira had described what a pack of them could do to a healthy elk, and once again wondered how the small woman had managed to survive the battle she'd described in graphic detail.
“Althessia is playing with her stuffed cat in the crib. I think she'll be asleep soon but I'll go check on her again in a few minutes.” Merry said from the nursery doorway.
“I'll go check on her child, you were supposed to be taking the afternoon off,” Rose replied, shooing Merry to a bench. “I'll make us some tea, while you sit.”
“I had a wonderful time though, Mrs. Rose! And I can't wait to make the new dresses,” Merry gestured grandly as she fell back onto the couch with a giggle. “But … I'm sorry to see the journal go, even if it did go where it belonged. It was really her?” she asked, for what seemed like the fiftieth time.
“Yes, it was child,” Rose replied once more. “If I'd had any doubts, seeing her face cleared them away. But her eyes especially ...” Rose couldn't help but be a little unnerved by the memory of the woman's eyes – clear, bright and unusually gold in color. And the hair, what of it there was for the woman had cut it shorter than most men's, had been a clear silvery white, the same as the braid she'd found inside the pages of the book. Yes, Rose was certain that she'd given the journal to its rightful bearer.
“... wish I could have spoken to her. I have a million questions to ask! Maybe I can find her again, maybe she'll stay in town until ...”
Rose rolled her eyes and tuned Merry out, knowing better than to interrupt the girl while she was rambling. Still, she too wished she could speak with the mysterious woman again. Find out more of her home, and of her people – these Dunlenders of which she had spoken. At least though, I now have a name … and a place to start.
In the quiet of the evening, a small campfire lit the copse of trees as a nearby wolf howled. The animal, hungry and alone, came sniffing closer, though the flames kept it just out of distance of the woman sitting against a large trunk eating her supper. Roast coney, it'd been a good hunt for she'd captured two of them. She paused from her eating and looked down at the remaining carcass, not yet cooked, before reaching over and grabbing it. With a flick of her wrist, she tossed it away and listened as the wolf scrambled after the unexpected offering. 'There, now we can both eat' she said to the empty space and settled back to finish her meal.
