It continued to snow. It was enough to cover the deep scar left on the white ground by Estarfin’s sled, and the footprints of those carrying Danel’s stretcher.
Limiriel did not hand off the duty of dragging her erstwhile teacher to any of the Arrows. A menial, mindless task; but she would not relinquish it. Grim faced, snow melting as it landed in the blond mass and mingling with sweat in her hairline. Now and again, she was aware that Dolthafaer brushed the snow from her shoulders. By the time they made camp that night, her hair was drenched. The mousy scout volunteered first watch as the others huddled against the wind and rested.
The warden sat a ways from them, unbinding her hair and shaking it out. Metal beads clinked softly, but she stilled them quickly as she twisted it to the side and sat as close to the fire as she dared. Empty grey eyes fixed on the wounded beyond the firelight…
***
The jeers and howls crescendoed from beyond the firelight as the frozen mud beneath her feet thawed with each passing opponent. It had incited the never-distant hunger, and continued to fan the flames, as she grew less and less restrained.
It was never enough. The recruits feared her, the officers would not take her on.
The captain, her own dear mother, had suspended her from duty and forbidden she leave the compound after she had refused to give up training with a spear. And so, she had found other ways for relief…
By the time the last opponent stepped into the ring, she was drunk on the exhilaration of blood, pain and victory. Blood and drool mingled as she raised her head to unseeingly look up at her opponent. Her empty eyes glittered as she lunged forward with an unholy, feral yell. The rules, the referee, any semblance of restrain was gone.
The monster took over. And went for the kill.
*
It had taken three commanders to hold her down and beat her into submission. Her mother watched on silently, only stepping in when one of them made to draw his sword in desperation. She had delivered the final blow, a kick to the stomach so hard that Limiriel could taste blood…
“You have single-handedly destroyed the career of your officer. You injured one of your fellow recruits beyond hope of healing. You have disgraced your family, your kin and your king."
The red-haired captain stared down at the twitching, snarling heap for a moment, then closed her eyes and turned away.
“You are banished from the kingdom of Hithlum, on pain of death.”
As two guards dragged her away, the captain raised her hand. They paused in the doorway, uneasy. She strode forward and knelt, grabbing Limiriel’s chin roughly.
“ You have brought me nothing but shame and dishonour. You are no daughter of mine.”
***
“You should rest.”
Dolthafaer. She absently rubbed at the red marks left by the thick leather straps of the sled.
“Once we reach the Valley.”
The captain sat next to her, sighing quietly.
“We have made good time. Perhaps, there is hope yet.”
She growled in reply, turning her attention back to the fire. The Arrow sighed again, adjusting his cloak around his shoulders.
“Let us hope that the rest of the journey is as uneventful. Do not go running into the night finding trouble.” His joking tone hid his sincere request.
At that, she flashed him an empty half-grin. “I make no promises that it will not crawl out of the darkness to find me.”
