The fire crackled the skin of the rabbit roasting on the spit, the small it of fat sizzling and bubbling. Gwennol shifted it away from the flames as it started to scorch and then sat back down, tossing some small bits of raw meat to Cysgod who opened his beak to snatch them out of the air. The shadows danced on the crumbling stone walls that surrounded her camp site and she could see the moon reflecting of the still waters of Nen Harn. Gwennol looked up at a sharp rawk sound from the craban who moved to perch on her shoulder.
Pren emerged from the darkness of the night, walking past the ruins with his furs covering him as usual. His axe swaying at his belt as he moved deeper into the camp, peering about here and there.
Picking up her staff, she peered through the firelight, unable to make out the face but the size of the figure was recognizable. "Pren? Is that you?"
Pren let his furs fall from around him, now just hanging down from his back like a cloak. "Yes. It is."
Gwennol gripped her staff, not forgetting their last conversation and glared at him, "What do you want?"
Pren pulled part of his furs back, the leather of his tunic stained dark, the firelight picking out the crimson color and the glisten of the still wet blood.
Gwennol sighed at the sight, looking at him but unable to see his expression beneath the bear helm. She silently got up and got her bag, approaching him, "Was it the same man who tried to kill you before or did you make a new friend?" She stood close to the fire, trying to avoid throwing a shadow as she bid him to take off his tunic.
Pren took off his furs and tunic, revealing a few small knife wounds. "Well. I bit a chunk out of a horse-womens arm.. started a fight with a few men who needed a punch then knocked a man's teeth out who tried to stop me."
The Derudh examined the wounds and raiseed her eyebrow at him, "Why did you do that?" She pressed some fresh comfrey leaves against the worst of the wounds to stop the bleeding.
"Fight or bite?" he asked.
Gwennol blows air through her nose as she looked up, "Both?"
Shaking her head, she moved to the fire, putting a kettle on. Taking out the usual herbs that are used to treat wounds such as his, she works with a confident grace of one that has long practiced the art.
Pren watched her work, replying, "Well, I bit her because she held a knife to my throat. And the other fights are because I got bored."
Gwennol tossed in several plants to steep, looking back up at him,"I'm guessing she had a reason to pull a knife of you, other than she was a Horse woman. Yet, another even farther from home." Looking at his face now that the helm was removed she met his eyes, "Bree is not a place for you."
Pren chuckled slightly, "I know. The men are too weak. Not worth a fight."
Gwennol smiled a little, turning away as she did to check on the poultice. "I suppose I should be grateful to you for all the practice you've given me in my art." Turning back to him, she raised her eyebrow and then put the warm pulpy plant mixture on his wounds.
'If you plan to travel back with me to Dunland, you will need this practice. On the way up here I got into fight after fight," he said as she smoothed the paste on the various cuts.
Gwennol smoothed the poultice and pushed a bit of wool cloth over it, "It is good you heal fast then." Finishing her work, she rinsed her hands and indicated the roasting coney, "It's nearly done, if you're hungry."
"I thought I filled my stomach on the flesh of the horse-woman but now the offer is here, I will have some," he replied, a hint of a smile beneath the bushy dark beard.
Gwennol scrunched her freckled nose at that, "I doubt that was very appetizing." She pointed to a fur on the ground, "Sit and rest."
Using her small knife, she cut off the haunches and ladled a stew of wild onions, mushrooms, and carrots from a small pot into a wooden bowl. Handing it to him, she went to stand on the other side of the fire, busying herself.
"Tasted worse than she smelled," he said, turning around before he went over and sat down on the furs, taking the bowl with a nod. He looked inside before he used his hand to pull out the larger pieces to put in his mouth, chewing away as he watched her and the camp.
Gwennol prepared a change of bandages and medicine for him, setting it aside neatly. She laid out her tools, cleaning them one by one as she organized her herbal pouches. Each one was made of leather and tied different threads in a variety of colors and knot patterns which she recognized as labels for the dried leaves, seeds, and roots within each one.
Pren finished the larger pieces before he put the bowl to his mouth, gulping down the smaller pieces and juices, wiping his beard with his arm, tossing the bowl to the side afterwards.
Gwennol glanced at him, "I take it that it was better than the flesh of the Forgoil?" She smiled slightly with a hint of pride as he finished the food. Looking at the war paint still on his face she remembered their last conversation and then the smile vanished. "When do you plan on going?"
Pren replied, 'To Dunland? Soon enough.'
Gwennol rubbed her chin, glancing at him. She started to ask him something but stopped, frowning at the fire. Part of her resented his presence, that he would dare return after what he told her had done to her people. And yet, if Rhi Helvarch had ordered it? It confused the young Derudh and the issue would not be settled until she could contact the spirits, perhaps the Huntsman himself would send her a sign once she was closer to their homelands.
Pren looked at her, seeing her pause, "Speak."
Gwennol tucked her long hair behind her ear, replying quietly, "I still wish to go home. But, I haven't forgotten the Boars."
Pren rolled his eyes slightly to himself, he then gestured his head to beside him as if her telling her to sit. Gwennol glared at him, her chin stubbornly set but finally moved over to sit near him, her staff across her knees. Pren looked at her, his dark eyes unreadable in the firelight, 'Return home with me. Then stay with me, there are a few clans that will let Boars in and I will take you to them.'
Gwennol stared at him then sighed, "If I am not to stay with the Derudh in Enedwaith, then I have little choice."
Pren moved to pat her shoulder with a nod, he then used his tongue to pick some meat out from between his teeth, his eyes on the fire. Gwennol stiffened under his touch but did not push him away. "It's a very long journey, perhaps you would do some hunting so we can prepare travel food?"
"I will hunt some deer and boar before we go," Pren took in a deep breath as he looked down to his almost healed sword gash and smaller patched up knife wounds.
Gwennol examined his face to see if he meant some cruel jest but his face was blank under the paint and beard, "I wonder now what you did before you found me to heal you." She set the staff to the side and tucked up her knees, resting her chin on them.
He shrugged, "I just took them and hoped they didnt get infected."
Gwennol without looking up she chuckled dryly, "Rhi Helvarch must truely watch out for you then."
Pren huffs a breath that might have been a laugh as he looked down at his chest and arms littered with bite marks and scars.
"You wear them all with pride?" the young Derudh asked.
"Most of them," Pren admitted.
Gwennol looked at his exposed skin, "It must be like a road map of your life."
"The tattoos are the map." the big warrior pointed to the one of the trees. "Born in the Wilds," He then moved his finger to the stag tatto. "Moved to the Stag Clan with my mother." He then gestures to the rest. "Then the others follow."
Gwennol reached out and pointed to the axe, "Most are tribes, what is that for? Weapon of choice?"
Pren looked at it and said, "To mark me as a warrior."
She breathed out sharply, her lips twitching slightly, "As if you need a mark to indicate that."
Gwennol touched her shoulder through the robe, "I have my own but they are hidden."
Pren smirked ever so slightly. "Some think I am a bear. Bears are no warrirors." He then looked to her shoulder, "What do you have?"
Gwennol glanced at him, "A boar, what else?" She took a deep breath, "I do not have the mark of the Derudh yet, my mentor will apply it once I return, this was a test for me."
The warrior was quiet for a moment and then said, "My father used to be in the Boar clan."
Gwennol jerked her head around, "He was? And yet you..." She breathed deeply and shook her head, determined not to reopen that wound,"What was his name?"
He replied simply, "Davud."
Gwennol furrowed her brow at the name, "Davud? I don't know it. It's been so long since I was among them, I was quite young when I left."
He leaned back, watching the flicker of the flames, "For the few months I had been away from kinsmen. It would feel strange to be away for years."
Gwennol nodded, "It feels strange to return, I wonder if I will be like a stranger in my home...not that I truly have any home to return to." She grew quiet, the shadows playing over her fair features. The question that nagged her since she knew what he had done to the Turch Luth surfaced once again. She would be travelling alone with this man and she was not sure she could completely trust him. Even if he did honor Rhi Helvarch and the ones who served Him, "Can I ask you something personal?"
He shifted his attention to her, "Of course."
Gwennol fingered the end of her sleeve, touching where it has frayed, her deep chestnut hair falling down to mask her face, "In all of your raids, did you...how many women have you taken?" She asked the last part swiftly, her cheeks burning, afraid to look at him.
"I have stole three to put in the Ox camp in Barnavon. The other kind of taken, none. It is easier to kill them than to rape then kill them," Pren replied and she could find no trace of lie in his tone or mannerism.
Gwennol glanced at him, "I'm not sure whether to be grateful or not." She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders, her eyes on the fire. She huffed a laugh, shaking her head sadly, "I suppose I should be grateful that the raider who tried to take me did not agree with that assesment."
Pren nodded, remaining silent, his eyes kept on the fire.
"It is late," she said finally, satisfied with his answer and the relief it brought her. "I think I'll sleep."
Gwennol curled under the pelts and blankets that made her bed, Pren staying awake awhile longer.
