Flight from Edoras

For too many moons had she stared out the window of her room, which overlooked the wild plains of the Horse-lands. It had been nearly three years since the death of Foldred, and the grief still pierced her heart as fresh as the day it had happened. 

Mead Night in Edoras. Every week, locals and visitors leave the tavern much as they found it, content with mead and merry company. None, save maybe one, expected this night to be different...

Dytha wiped the dusted snow from her downy eyebrows and took in the warmth of her home. It was good to be back in Fréasburg. Had a month really passed since she’d traveled to Aldburg to prepare for their Yuletide? Then Edoras, then Aldburg again. She’d lost count. Even in winter it seemed there were no ends to her roads. Now, at last, she was home. 

The two figures were not the only guests at Edoras’ tavern that night, but their attention was less on the chatter among them, once they met, and more on each other and the grave matter they discussed…

Lord of Graevewillow,