Cold night behind her, Sybri rose just before dawn. This morning she was going to spend some time fletching before she went out to the wood to check traps.
The young hunter had learned quickly. After many failed attempts she had become quite skilled at making her own arrows. She had a quiver's worth of shafts and arrowheads ready, but this morning she needed to prepare feathers. Worn but in good shape, she kept her fletching supplies in one of her saddle bags which she brought with her to the work table.
Inside an old metal coffer, lined with cedar shakes, she removed goose wings, separating out right and left wings. Noting the leading edge of the wing is how she determined right from left. The leading edge of the feather should have fewer vanes. Those leading edges face into the wind as the bird flies and the base of the quill gently curves away from the leading edge.
Sybri separated the primary and secondary wing feathers because primaries make the best and most durable flight feather. Secondary feathers, which work well for practising fletching, she no longer needed. Darren would be the recipient of the secondaries, to use in teaching new students of the hunt.
Using a razor sharp dagger and a finely grained and sanded board, Bri sliced lengthwise down the goose quill. Going slowly, she was very careful to go down the exact centre of the quill. Cutting with a very sharp pair of scissors, the now skilled fletcher trimmed the height of the feather. Next she used a sharpening stone on the quill, carefully sanding it until it was flat and uniform. Finally using her scissors once again, she trimmed the feather into the desired shape.
After a good hour or so of fletching, she placed all of the feathers, back into the cedar lined box which she then placed in a saddle bag. Gathering up her gear, she sauntered slowly to the small Archet stable to her horse. After tacking Monk and stepping up into the saddle, Sybri leisurely headed for the Archet gate on her way to the Chetwood. Just after passing through the gate, she pulled her horse to a halt just aside the gate and placed one hand over her sword's hilt. Acute hearing and her sharp green eyes detected two riders barreling toward Archet.
Standing her ground, perhaps because of the recent personal events heightening a feeling defensiveness, Sybri did not move to clear the gate. The guards posted on either side of the gate, barely lifted a brow, but the young woman was taking no chances.
As the riders approached, they slowed their mounts to a walk. There was one horse that appeared very large and powerful as well as another beautiful grey with slender legs like a fine race horse. Atop were two men, one in polished armour and the other in fine surcoat of green over glossy mail.
As they approached, they greeted the cautious woman and being raised well, she gave them both a polite greeting in return. There was talk of the fine morning but Sybri was not interested in small talk, she wanted to know why two men, of obvious means and accents foreign yet oddly familiar, would be approaching the hamlet of Archet. Without the guise of diplomacy or tact, she simply asked the two men what business they had with Archet.
It was then that she realised this was going to be a very unlucky day. Before either of them spoke again, she realised why the accent was familiar. The men claimed to be looking for kin, kin from Rohan....
