Aelfrida

The trap-maker gave up on trying to sketch more designs, and was already too sore in the fingers from having her daydreaming distract her from the physical side of her work. She sighed and sat back, trying to draw portraits of her sweetheart again, despite not really feeling like she was capturing what mattered. At least it was sort of an excuse that almost justified thinking of her so much.

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.

Based off of the RPed Woodmen Clan Moot, 16 February. Observations and introspections from Arastal's point of view.

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?

Fortunately, pups don't take a lot of care, especially in the first few fortnights when their eyes aren't even open yet and they can't do much more than waddle and nurse. But that's also unfortunate, because tending the pups was the best part of Heriwulf's day.

There is something about having a litter of pups that lifts the spirits. Perhaps that's true for everyone, but if so, it may be more true for someone like Heriwulf, who spends so much of his life's energy on the care of hounds that their spirits influence his. In the past he'd always found this cheering up to be welcome, for he tended to be a serious and sometimes dour fellow, his eyes fixed on the pragmatic needs of the day, his heart darkened by the tragedies he'd seen and endured, his outlook tending towards the pessimistic. Or so people told him.

It only took one time making the long hike from Staddle to the lodge, carrying two bales of hay, for Heriwulf to conclude that there had to be another way. Bales of hay don't weigh very much; surely carrying two over the few miles through the Chetwood would be no great hardship, particularly if he had the whole day to do it, two bales at a time over several journeys?