The coming dawn had painted the sky into a crimson splendour albeit still it was dark, and a gust of chilly wind entered through the cave the Eorlings camped in. As Régnwald reached the entrance, he hailed the guards and exchanged a few words with them. The night watch always had a fire running just outside the cave, and there were still red glowing embers shining brightly in the midst of the ashes. There were also plenty of dry firewood left, so he sat down by the fire and carefully placed a few smaller twigs and logs in the midst of the still glowing embers. By softly blowing on it, the fire soon took up speed again. He gave a quick nod to the scout while stretching out his legs and enjoying the silence of the camp for a few but very precious seconds. He then reached for the medium-sized bag that was fastened to his old and rugged leather belt, and he took forth the trusty, yet even older, pipe together with a small pouch that was filled with sweet-scented pipe-weed. He took a deep breath and inhaled the fragrance of the fine, dried leafs which smelled of rosewood and apples, before crushing a few between his fingers and softly pressed it down the pipe’s head. By igniting a twig in the fire, he used it to light the pipe. As the leafs started to burn, the smoke he inhaled and let out filled the area with a sweet scent, and the guard soon walked over towards him.
''Lord Régnwald,''
The Captain gave him a quick, deep nod before the scout began to speak, straightening, he handed him the pipe “Let your friend over there have a smoke too, just return the pipe when you’re done.”
The other guard looked up briefly from his post as his partner came over with the pipe. When they were finished, the man passed the pipe back to Régnwald.
“Thancie, sir. Much appreciate it. It’s been a long and slow night, so this was much welcomed.”
Régnwald let a thin, almost ghost of a smile cross his lips, took the pipe to his own mouth, as there was still plenty of burning weed left. He gazed out across the river. As the moment passed, he turned to the scout ''Tell Cynebur to assemble the women and children in the cave. We're leaving. And return to your quartermaster, help her with the counting of what supplies we have.'' It was spoken firm and clear as an order. His gloved hand falling away, sucked air through clenched teeth.
The tall scout, Elfgast got a dubious look, almost in awe ''But Lord, Céolswith has not returned as of yet.''
The captain rose but stepped back, involuntarily. Eyes narrowed, only to widen once more, pale brow knitting in a frown. ''What?''
''She left in the dead of night, telling the archers she would return shortly, and we guessed you know this...'' the man swallowed hard, bowing to him, but saying naught further.
Régnwald's brow were creased in concern, finally he turned from the man ''No, fuck!'' he roared. Suddenly in his rage, a heavy boot rushed out, connecting with a dull crash into the cookpot. Dark, lumpy contents spread their way across the grass as the rest hissed and bubbled in the fireplace. A hand swept next, sending the pipe across the fire. Turning upon him, eyes bright and hot in rage or anguish he exhaled slowly. "We'll discuss this later..." Shaking his head, he stalked over to his horse Gramlic quickly and mounted, calling over his shoulder:
''We're not tarrying, assemble everyone outside the cave and make ready for the ride into Wildermore. I shall return quickly. ...And no one will hear about this.'' his final words were more of a hissing, teeth bared back in a snarling grimace. He swung his gaze across the other two scouts, hazel green eyes of the Horselord gleaming fiercely.
With a light kick then, whinnied the captain's brown steed, the Horselord vanishing into the dawn with a flicker of the heavy, embroidered cloak.
