Sarnai

On the road from Starkglen to Arrowhaven, Sarnai loosened her grip on her mount's reins and let her mind wander, allowing the horse to slow to a leisurely walk.

Sitting atop her bed in the Warhorse Inn, Sarnai turned a wooden object in her hands. It was a crude, if artistically made wooden sculpture of a wagon. She held it up to her window, allowing the late-afternoon light streaming through the glass to illuminate its surface so that she could see it more clearly. After a few moments of adjusting the angle at which she held the object and squinting to see more clearly, Sarnai gently laid it down on the bedspread.

Returning from the Lair was a noisy affair. The place was so recluse from the rest of the world, that she had nearly forgotten what it meant to be part of something bigger than just her and her sole companion. And truth be told, the noise was grating on her nerves already. 

Too much happened in too little time. And the more things that happened, the less Assaj felt in control of the situation. And feeling powerless was something she was not used to feel. Far too many emotions were warring inside of her, most of them foreign, and all of her usually so reliable instincts were a mess, leaving her with nothing to get a grasp onto.