Pren

Gwennol raked her nails on the man's hand as he choked her, pulling back as her eyes turn bloodshot, her lips purple. She gasped for air that would not come, twisting in the sick man's grip. The door to the hut slammed open and Pren burst into the room, his eyes drawn to the center of the floor Gwennol struggled. A look of pure anger crossed his face and he shouted out in a deep threatening voice, "LET HER GO."

Pren nodded as he ran a hand through her hair briefly before the voice was heard, pulling the kitten back towards himself and putting him in his furs, letting his head pop out.

Gwennol looked up, standing and going to fetch her bag, "What is wrong with him?" She asked the young man, a boy really, who came to deliver the message. He shrugged, looking away from Pren, a hint of fear in his eyes, "I don't know, he has fever and won't wake." 

Gwennol's face grew serious and she turned to Pren, "I must go help."

Pren looked back as his name was mentioned,  before he looked over to Brisen, nodding once more before surveying the large hut and the people milling around, staring at the strangers. 

Brisen looked at him boldly, her eyes roamed over his broad chest and up to his face. "Come, this way." She walked towards the door, her hips swayed under a tight fitting hide skirt.

The journey through Eregion was quiet, the land full of rolling hills and dry creek beds, clusters of holly trees giving the area the name, Hollin. Ancient elvish ruins dotted the landscape as they rode along the faint path, dust kicking up under the hooves of the big brown horse. 

Watching him go, she felt an unexpected pang of emotion and smiled at him her eyes shining with unshed tears for the lost kittens and for his act of kindness. She sighed, suddenly realizing they would likely have no means to care for a litter of lynx kits. She rubbed her head and looked at the fire, there would have to be some way. She rolled out one of the furs near the flames and set to work cutting up the deer carcass for cooking and drying.

Gwennol rolled up the hide tent, lashing it tight with leather straps leaning it against a tree. She slung on her bag, picking up her staff before whistling for Cysgod to begin her morning foraging. The sound of thundering hooves were heard suddenly and she turned, her long hair whipping around as she held her staff. A heavy dark chestnut horse galloped towards her, the hulking like rider glimpsed as it pounded towards her through the trees. It was nearly abreast of the young woman who tensed to dart out of its path and turned to run.