The day was quiet, which made a welcome change for Furley's ears. Then again, it was just before dawn, and he'd gotten up early to avoid the bustling and humdrum, or at least that's what he told himself. In reality, he'd decided to skulk off without bothering anyone, and largely to go unnoticed.
Sighing, he thought to himself, or rather tried not to think to himself, about the last few months in Bree. His wife had left him without word. She'd merely left the tavern at one of his low moments, and he'd found a note afterwards given to him by Barliman. Naturally, he'd returned the favour to her. Before he set off, he decided to leave Barliman a note telling her exactly where he was, but he'd all but given up hope.
He thought about how much he'd hated this land when he had returned from the south. The memories didn't help him, and the turmoil he'd received as a guard and before. Old demons had come back to haunt him because he'd lost his temper at Idathiel, and he'd been paranoid ever since. Checking locked doors twelve times, looking over his shoulder constantly... and battling that anger that had probably caused Edelinia to leave in the first place. He'd almost tried to start a war with the underworld. I mean... how foolish was he?!
Finishing strapping his saddle, he attached his bags and filled the saddlebags with his provisions. and began to lead his horse out of the stable. There was nothing left for him here anymore, it seemed. No family, few friends... and no purpose. But there was somewhere that he had a purpose, and he'd been shirking it for far too long.
The people of the Wold needed him, and undoubtedly he was needed back at the war. His fear and injury had driven him back north, but it was time he stopped hiding away. He would return. The reality was that the prospect of death just didn't scare him as much as it had. He felt empty, and useless. He needed something again, and he'd found that before in the Mark.
Feeling like a former shell of himself, he began the walk out of the West Gate, saluting his old friend Hazel as he walked past. The journey was going to be long and dangerous, but it was one he looked forward to with minor optimism. Perhaps he'd pop by his old friends, Ashwyneth before he left. Yes, that was only the right thing to do, after everything she'd done to help, and to think of the state she was in last time...
Turning his horse toward the old infirmary, he finally mounted, and trotted over the horizon, leaving the town behind for perhaps the final time.
