The inn seemed busier than usual as we entered that night. Huddles of people in stood around the edges of the room, speaking in hushed tones. These were not the usual clientele.
Adiwen and I moved through the crowds, and found a table. Although it was busy, our hosts were as efficient as ever, and soon we had a drink in our hand and some fresh bread and cheese before us on the table. We chatted over our day, the people we had met and the antics of Maerstan’s so called Demon Cat.
As we chatted, my eyes fell to a familiar face. The hunter, the one I had met on my way to Bree.
And there it was once more. That pain when I breathed, and the ringing in my head. It had changed over time, from being a constant feeling of loss, to hitting me in waves. One minute I would be fine, then there would be a sound, a smell or a word, and it would hit me once more as if it were a fresh wound. I attempted to control my breathing, as I had been advised, and focused on the cup in my hand.
The hunter was speaking, and the men around the room stopped their conversations to listen. His words were muffled to my ears but there was talk of being gathered to remember, with some uncertainty of who called the gathering.
I closed my eyes and breathed slowly and deeply – I would not lose control in here. Not now. Not with so many people here.
It had been some moments before I realised the room was silent.
I opened my eyes slowly to look at the hunter. He was stood transfixed, looking at the doorway.
I followed his gaze. Then instantly closed my eyes. They were playing tricks on me. He was not here. He couldn’t be.
