Forward

Darkness slowly gave way to slits of light. The sun had risen before Dru had, apparently.
She grunted as she sat up; her arms stretched in front of her to help bring her weight up. Not that there was much weight to speak of. She had grown noticeably thinner since her capture.
Her wrists were no longer bandaged, but hung uselessly by her sides. She'd been working to get them back up to strength but had no progress. It was frustrating, humiliating. Depressing. To be the one depending on others, rather than the one protecting others. The one fighting those who choose to do evil.
Instead, she could barely even live on her own.

At least she'd heard good news of Kakeraen. He had left Bree-land and gone far away. The further he was from her, the better. They seemed to think she was the key to turn him back into whatever monster they thought he was before.
She knew that, whether they were right or not, she could have been the cause of his death. Death of him, or death of his body. He would not have stopped searching for her, after his promise to keep her safe. She didn't need the promise. She hadn't wanted it. But accepted it anyway. Now. Now he was safe.

But what was she to do? All she knew was protecting others. Fighting. Destroying whatever darkness she could find. Now she was useless. Her wrists could not even hold the weight of a glass of wine. Perhaps she should simply stay in the woods and die. Have no one to worry for her.
Brandant had been kind in bringing her to his camp, tending to her wounds, feeding her. But she couldn't stay while she brought nothing of worth to the camp.

She rubbed her eyes with the crook of her elbow, wiping exhaustion from her face as best as she could. "Useless. Maybe...maybe I can fix that." A thought suddenly struck her. Her wrists could heal in their own time if what she thought of were possible. She would go to a craftsman immediately.