Hildegund

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.

At spear training, Heriwulf had talked about the deep, steady breathing that helps a warrior maintain both the body and the mind. How you breathe is one of the easiest things to learn, and the hardest things to keep up in the heat of the moment, and most important things that made a good warrior a great one, though no one knew it. You need both air and calm to survive the challenges; and steady, deep breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth, give both.

Arastal stepped up to the door, paused a moment, then knocked twice, very lightly.

"Is open!" The voice from within was loud enough for even humans to hear from outside.

Scarlet Jay rushed up from the birthing shed, which was now more of a puppies' play-pen, with the remains of near-mortal embarrassment only now leaving her appearance, with her complexion finally no longer out-shining her russet locks. She dashed her way up the small rise to what was left of the healers' tent – by now, mostly a fabric roof on poles and the marks of where pallets had been, plus a few shelves for supplies.

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.

Rynel was growing on her, both figuratively and literally — the pup was getting undeniably bigger, though he still barely weighed anything in Ljota’s lap. She was actually starting to look forward to having him and Breon in the hut, but for right now the shed would suffice.

"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.

In the space of a single sennight, everything in Heriwulf's life had been turned upside down. They were all good changes, but they were exhausting, too, full of risks and challenges, demands and urgency, and the promise of things ending much better, soon. Or becoming the source of yet more regrets to hang about his neck.

There was no question in Heriwulf's mind anymore. He should never have let Faron make him promise to offer himself as chieftain. Or he should never have accepted the position. Now he wondered, though, was it really about that position, farcical as it was, or was it just him?