He snuck away after she'd lain asleep a good while, once her breath was soft and even. Although he was leaving her temporarily alone, he deemed Waymeet relatively secure and knew that her bear was out skulking nearby as well.
Now he wandered the open hillside beyond the wagons and farms, the darkness of the fields only broken by light of the full moon. He searched the ground and he knew what he sought well enough to tell it by outline. Some tricks he had learnt during his long wandering still retained their use, as it did now.
There, ahead, near a small grove of trees he found it. He crouched down beside the shadowed patch of yarrow, withdrew one of his few remaining sharp knives, gripped a handful of the coarse brown stalks and hacked them free of their roots. Then he sat softly on the grass, crossing his legs.
He set the weeds across his lap and one by one cracked the hardened stalks to peel the softer inner fibers out, careful to keep them in long strips. He tossed aside the useless outer layers and then set to tenderize the fibers by rolling them roughly between his calloused thumbs and forefingers. Once the fibers were malleable, he wrapped only the strongest into a very thin cord.
His mind wandered as his fingers entwined the plant fibers, weaving in and out of past memories and his current state cleanly. He was not sure what his discovery earlier that night in the rubbish pile of Waymeet forebode, but he knew that it was not meant for him to keep. It deserved to be given; he knew not yet to whom.
Once the cord was twisted tightly enough and passed his test of harshly pulling its ends, he coiled it into one hand and slipped his other palm inside his dingy pocket. The object inside was small and cool to the touch, and when he withdrew it he rolled it between his toughened fingers, lightly following the lines of carving upon its surface.
The shape of a tiny bird had been lovingly chiseled on a bit of lucent rock crystal, and it glinted now when it caught a ray of dim star light. He had noticed some Dwarven merchants haggling with residents in Waymeet that day, so he speculated that it could have been lost by one of their kind, for he assumed that the halflings did not create such earth-art.
Now though, it would be secured to the strong yarrow-twine he had made and kept safely in his care, until he knew for certain who to bestow the precious trinket on.
The first blush of dawn was just beginning to creep along the gloomy horizon when he slipped back down to Kitten's side at the extinguished campfire. As he closed his eyes he briefly wondered if his hooded cloak would be dry enough to wear, to obscure the dark circles he knew would appear under his eyes that day.
Photo credit: Christie's
