They stood upon the Deeping Wall, on guard together. The others of the patrol were also on guard, but spread further along the wall. Gaeded felt strange in this moment, though she thought that it should feel like any other day. Ælfræd stood next to her. He said nothing, looking out to the grassy plains before them and the silhouette of the ruined town of Marton in the distance. It was a quiet day, as usual, as no enemy dared to approach the great fortress.
Her mind was plagued with regrets, after Lieta’s death. ‘I wish I never left the Riddermark in the first place’; ‘I wish I never joined them’; ‘I wish I’d left them and took up the offer to join the eored at the Fords of Isen’; ‘I wish that none of this ever happened’.