Adeila was fully aware of what their enemies could do. She'd had to flee as well. She'd seen the aftermath through the Temple's tests. She still saw the pain in the eyes of any survivors whom she visited. Their homes, their belongings, many of the people they loved - all were gone. None of them would likely ever return to the only home they'd ever known.

"I am quite familiar with what they can do with one night, and I do recognize the risk in waiting," she said slowly. "You are far more experienced than I in situations such as this. I respect that. But I also like to think that more than twenty-five years as a healer has granted me a reasonable amount of insight in that field. Your ribs cannot be fully healed already, and you've yet to even let me take a look at your hand. Will you even be able to wield a weapon effectively if there is danger?"

She paused to ascertain that no one else had entered the room before continuing more softly. "Merrin died not a week ago, Kendath. I do not pretend to be an expert regarding resurrection cases, but you cannot expect her to resume travel so quickly. In my opinion, she is not ready." She sighed, then waved a hand wearily. "This is not our decision to make. You have your opinion, and I have mine. I doubt that you intend to surrender any more than I do. Ask Merrin. She should know better than anyone."

Kendath nodded and, assuming perfect deadpan, strode out the door. Curse it, Adeila had a point. How could he ask Merrin to leave so early? And how could - He stopped and threw a glare at his hand, which curled into an awkward fist. Adeila's remark about wielding a weapon had struck home.

No.

They couldn't stay. The entire town - a hundred, two hundred people? more? - teetered on the edge of a knife. Staying would be tantamount to slaughtering them all, to bathing his hands once more in the blood of innocents.

He inhaled deeply, surveyed the room. Master Tanner was nowhere to be found. He caught sight of Merrin emerging from the back porch. Her appearance startled him. Muscles bulged in her jaw, and... were her fingers twitching beside her sabre? He approached. "Something wrong?"

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"Garthag," said Merrin, with one shake of her head. She uncurled her fingers from their fists and let them drop. "He was...you heard what he was saying. In front of them. I'm tired of it. I'm tired of him."

The sensation came back to her suddenly, perhaps triggered by the mage's words, of fleeing from danger into danger, and sleeping under stars that did not cast enough light to banish the shadows. The hollow emptiness in her stomach twisted into a knot. Merrin took a deep breath and blew it out, looking past Kendath out the open windows to where sun sparkled on the mountainsides, as ever. "T'mor went to the store, for things we'll need. I think Jayen went to see if there were horses."

She heard one twin's tremulous voice in the kitchen. One tear slipped past her attempts to stem them. Merrin wiped it away and squared her shoulders. "I suppose we need to leave...soon."

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Kendath looked past her to the hearth, where he'd bedded down just the night before. Their next bed could very well be the damp mess of a forest floor.

Merrin's tear didn't escape his notice. He leaned in and kissed her, very gently, taking her hand. Her palm was warm, but her fingertips were cold, like chill winds before the onslaught of winter. He rubbed them against his own. "Are you all right? Adeila says - well, she's right - Do you think you can travel? The nights will be chilly."

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"It doesn't matter," said Merrin. The kiss had made more tears leap to her eyes instead of fewer. She swallowed them, and when Kendath took her hand wrapped her fingers around his and looked up at him. "As long as I have a cloak. It'll be all right."

She would make it all right. As long as - Merrin bit her lip and curled her fingers tighter around his. "We'll manage. We did before."

"There are horses at the inn," said Jayen, a little too loudly, and Merrin jumped and half turned. She hadn't heard him come in. He was standing with one hand on the latch of the door, belligerence in the set of his jaw. "They're very dear."

They didn't have any money. Merrin felt the knot tighten. "We'll take the cart horses," she said.

Jayen gave a brusque nod. He eyed the pair of them, first her, then Kendath. Merrin remembered her grip on his fingers. "What's out there?" Jayen said, biting off the words. Merrin wondered if his eyes flickered to Kendath's charred hand. "How will you protect yourselves? What if - what happened - happens again?"

Merrin opened her mouth to reply. Unexpectedly, Jayen cursed and shook his head. "Someone should be with you."

"The gods will - I will - protect us," said Merrin.

"If you're strong enough." The doubt was too evident in his voice.

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"I'm with her," Kendath retorted, a little too loudly on his part as well. He didn't let go of Merrin's hand. "Merrin's stronger than you give her credit for. We've managed fine so far. Thanks for your help."

He spotted Master Tanner waving from inside the other room. Jayen's stare - critical, doubtful, and rather effective - burned into the back of his skull. He tried and failed to ignore it and turned to Merrin. "Come on - your father's found the map."

_________________

As her and Kendath's fingertips fell apart, Merrin looked at Jayen. The frown that knotted his forehead meant he was no more satisfied than any of them. She deliberately turned away.

Master Tanner brought the map to spread on the broad kitchen table, and Merrin held down two corners to keep it from springing back into a roll. The twins stopped halfheartedly assisting their mother and crowded in behind Jayen.

"Here, then. You won't want to be heading for Vryngard?" Her father stabbed a finger at Riversmeet's location.

Merrin shook her head, scanning the worn landscape on the roll of parchment. Mountains drawn in ink marched across the continent, rivers curving in from the sea, and even Vryngard itself was merely a dot. "No. It'll be down the Seiren, I think, past - there."

Master Tanner looked at the place she pointed. "Rival Falls. On the lake?"

She nodded.

He leaned back contemplatively, a frown of his own etched between his brows. "That's down through the last of the mountains, then, unless you've a mind to go around. To the pass will be two days, three, and then follow the Seiren down."

Merrin tried to fix the locations in her head. She'd never been to the old Renegade outpost, seldom used as it was, but if the survivors of Vryngard's siege had fled anywhere, that would be the place. "Simple enough," she said finally, still trying to visualize the last pass. The directions slipped from her mind, replaced by a vague remembrance of the chill mountain altitudes before they dipped to the plains. It would be colder adragonback, except that Wyvern's dragonfire had always kept her warm -

"Take care you don't get lost," her father was saying, and Merrin jerked herself back to the present. Master Tanner tapped the map with a forefinger. "I haven't been up that way in years. You should miss the worst of it - t'isn't full winter yet."

Once more, Merrin nodded mechanically.

"Ask directions at any of the villages on your way," said her mother, and flicked a dismissive hand at the map. "Now. T'mor's gone to the store, but you can't be going so very soon - you're all like sticks, and another meal will do you a world of good. Tomorrow morning is just as good as today."

"No, Mama -" started Merrin.

"It's been five years, Merrin, dear!" The 'dear' felt forced. "Surely another night won't hurt."

Torn, Merrin let her eyes move first to Kendath, then past him to Adeila. The twins' eyes were fixed on her. "We can't," she said. "We - it's not - we can't."

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"I am inclined to agree with your mother, Merrin," Adeila interjected carefully. This was a delicate subject, and she did not wish to concern Merrin's parents overmuch, but it needed to be addressed. "Yes, Kendath has already reminded me of how much your - our - enemies can do in just one night. But a considerable amount of good can be accomplished in a night as well. One night in a real bed and a proper meal can and would work wonders."

She hesitated briefly before simply offering a resigned shrug. "I have already presented my argument to Kendath; to do so again would be redundant and a waste of time if you do intend to depart now. This is ultimately your decision, Merrin. Under ordinary circumstances, I would sooner tie you to a bed than permit you to leave. But this is not my ward, and I imagine that ropes might be somewhat useless anyway. Leave now if you must, but know that, as a healer, I strongly disadvise it."

"Tie to a bed?" interjected Merrin's mother sharply, and swept around the table. "Merrin, what have you been doing? Do you know, I thought you looked pale - have you been eating?"

"No - Mama -" Merrin fended off her mother's hands at her forehead. "Mama, some things are more important." A vision of Adeila's village, before the Meiltha, flashed into her mind. Not Riversmeet. Never Riversmeet. "I promise I'll listen to Adeila. We must go."

"Well, you don't have a fever." Mistress Tanner stepped back and Merrin wondered if her mother had been listening at all. "Have you been sick?"

Had she been sick - Merrin supposed she had. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered when she ached, with every passing second, to flee from this haven that was threatened by her very presence. "Aye. I've been - sick," she admitted. "But I'm better now."

"You're not better until the healer says so," piped up one of the twins. Merrin winced at that piece of inherited wisdom.

"Look," she said, spreading her palms in a pleading gesture. "I love you. You know I love you all." Her eyes lingered on Jayen's dissatisfied expression. It didn't change. "You don't understand what could happen if I stay."

"What could?" said the other twin.

Merrin was not about to tell him. She sat down at the table and put her head in her hands. "People are chasing me," she said quietly. "I don't want them to come here."

"We'll get them," said Adasin, planting fists on hips.

Merrin had to laugh. It was a strange sound. When she looked at them all once more, their faces still lacked comprehension. "Can't you trust me?" she asked.

The silence that followed was broken by T'mor's shout from the yard. "Oy, I'm back - he had salted beef -"

He came through the door bearing bulky packages wrapped in brown paper and stopped, scanning them all. "Gods, the lot of you look like someone died. Don't anyone think of smiling."

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"Right," Kendath said, and straightened from scanning the map. He'd never been to Rival Falls, but the road there appeared to wind through Garnet Pass, jealously guarded by the city of Amarinth. Prince Feldwar in all his glory. Excellent.

T'mor appeared at the door, and Kendath went over to help with the packages. Properly rationed, the food would a week, perhaps more, enough to get them to the Renegade outpost. He eased the packages onto the table, frowning at their bulk. "I don't know when we'll be paying you back," he said, with a glance at Master Tanner. "And horses are expensive. We'll borrow a pack mule or two from the caravan." He hesitated, then looked at T'mor. "I don't suppose someone's brought you a lost weapons belt? It's prickly. Knives."

_________________

"Didn't one of you have something?" T'mor swiveled to look at the twins.

"No," they said in unison.

A pause in which Merrin and T'mor raised skeptical eyebrows.

Adasin reluctantly disappeared out the back door at mere look from his father. Master Tanner stood to rest his fists on the table and survey them, while his wife unwrapped the packages to rearrange into portions for travel. Merrin could still feel her mother's dissatisfied gaze straying toward her. "Aye, well, it's only money," her father said finally. "Those wagon horses look sturdy enough, they'll get you over the pass."

"I am sorry," said Merrin quietly, into the silence the twins had left. The wall of Jayen's expression had not yet forgiven her.

Her father's smile reassured her. "Come back sometime, lass. We can wait a little longer." Master Tanner straightened and clapped a hand on Kendath's shoulder. "Pleasure meeting you, young sir, if I may say."

_________________

Kendath jumped at the touch but straightened quickly enough to respond with a nod. "And you," he said. The words felt dead on his tongue.

The sun had crawled past its zenith by the time the foursome were ready to leave. Its rays had long ago scattered the mist, and its heat baked the dirt roads and tickled the sweat on their necks. They stood in front of the Tanner house with four horses and a mule. The horse breeder was an old man from Adeila's village, and had sold them the beasts at half price. "The least I can do, young Master Tanner," he had said, with a pat for T'mor.

Townsfolk bustled. Children played. The sun cast its mocking yellow upon them all. Just another village. There'd been a time when Kendath wouldn't have given a copper's worth for just another village, but now he did care. He cared enough to suggest leaving in broad daylight, deliberately drawing pursuit on his and his companions' heels.

Whatever pursued them. He was sick of it all.

The horses snorted, their flanks sweating under the saddles. Kendath heaved the last pack onto the mule and finished tying the knot. Merrin's family was gathered by the fence. Thank you for your hospitality. Sorry we're leaving. Beware of black-robed priests. Empty sentiments. He glanced at Merrin. "Ready to go?"

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(Ok I`ve got something to inform you guys btw, albeit it might not affect the rp at all, in 2 weeks I will be leaving to serve in the army. Compulsory, lasts from 6 months to 12 months, but I´ll be home on weekends, not every weekend, but on some.)

From a safe distance Garthag glared at the family that was separated once and gathered whatever little equipment he had with him, it was about time for them to depart. Not only for the sake of these people here, but simply staying put and waiting for their enemies to swoop in on them did not seem like a very good idea, especially when they knew so little about what they were currently up against.

Yet still...

He felt that utterly revolting sting of jealousy in his heart as he stared at the family gathered together for, perhaps, one last goodbye. Indeed, before their journey had began Garthag would have laughed at her and claimed he had everything he could ever ask for. He would have seen Merrin as unfit for heroics and laughable at best had it not been for the power the gods had granted her..... yet now.

He found an empty void within himself, devoid on anything that might matter to him or anything, something achievable, that he craved for. Nothing, only the road and his `companions` whose purposes and beliefs were supposedly more commendable than his.

So the question Garthag asked himself, `what will I do, if we survive this journey?`. Nothing came to mind and he frustratedly grinned in the shadows of his hood. Garthag climbed onto the sturdy saddle on his horse and gazed expectingly at the others, awaiting for their departure that would no doubt at first be accompanied by shouts of goodbye and then an awkward silence.

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Let him curse my name
On these blood stained pages of misery
Let him call me a tyrant so cruel
Let him curse my name, but remember the truth!

In the whirlwind of packing and explaining - to tearful twins, to Mama - Merrin had thought she was closer to pressing back the disappointment of leaving them all again. She'd convinced herself that the tears would not be cried; her family would be safe, and she could go with the knowledge that they loved her still. She'd drunk in the gold of sunlight brimming in the bowl of the surrounding mountains. It was very nearly enough to eclipse the threat of darkness. But the minutes went as fast and faded as quickly as the mist, burnt off the mountaintops by the sun.

Too soon, far too soon, Kendath was turning to her. "Ready to go?"

And Merrin found she wasn't. She wasn't ready.

Slowly, she turned from fastening the last of their bundles to her saddle. There they all stood, arrayed before her. "Goodbye," said Merrin, into the sudden quiet.

"Bye bye," said Rhie with childish solemnity, removing her thumb from her mouth and releasing her grasp on her mother's skirts. Unprompted, she reached up, and Merrin knelt to hug her. How old would she be next time?

The twins were standing by themselves, thunderstorm expressions a contrast to the clear skies. Merrin held out a hand to Adasin, who was nearest. His frown deepened. It was Liand who sniffled first.

Adasin turned and fled, his twin not far behind, into the back garden. Their muted howls trailed behind them. Merrin took one uncertain step and gave up any thought of following. Her heart swelled painfully. I'll be back. Next time I'll tell you the whole story. Next time I'll show you my swordfighting. Next time...

"Merrin, dear, they're ten. Don't fret."

She looked up, and Mistress Tanner held out her arms. "Don't you push yourself," she whispered into Merrin's ear, embracing her with motherly warmth, and at the tears in her voice made Merrin's own choke in her throat. "Listen to Adeila. Don't forget to eat. I hope you know that boy loves you."

Merrin would have blushed, but she was too busy swallowing tears. When they pulled apart, she nodded. "I will. I know."

It was hard to hug her Da and T'mor - both of whom threatened to crush her - and not look too far past their determinedly cheerful facades. T'mor clapped her on the back and said that she'd better kill some Meiltha for him. Her da offered a wink and a grin. "Come back safe, lass."

When Merrin turned at last to Jayen, they both hesitated. Finally, he formed a terse smile and unfolded the wall of his crossed arms. "You're crazy."

Merrin's laugh was strained. "Don't I know it."

He was not as large as T'mor but he could hug as tightly. "I'm sorry," said Merrin, muffled, into his chest, "for everything. Don't worry about me. Marry Mirie. You'll be happy."

"You know better than to tell me not to worry." He released her and looked down, smile fading. "Please, Merrin, be careful."

She nodded wordlessly. Time to go.

Her jaw was beginning to ache with the strain of pressing down the urge to cry. Merrin mounted, trying not to look at any of them. Once settled in the saddle, she let her hungry eyes drink them all in. "Gods keep you," she said softly.

There was nothing else to say. The horses snorted and shifted and Merrin turned her eyes unwillingly to the road. Rhie waved first, and then as they were riding away, Merrin twisted and looked at them all one more time, arrayed by the white picket fence and all wildly waving their goodbyes. From somewhere, the melancholy twins had appeared to manage that last farewell.

When she turned back, the road was already blurry with tears.

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[Alrighty. School restarts next week anyway, so our pace will slow. Hopefully you won't miss too much.]

They took the same road they'd taken that morning, the one that stretched through the forest and up into the mountains, the one that promised long hours of struggling up steep slopes. People stared as they passed. Look, it's Master Tanner's daughter. Who are they? Dragonriders, I hear. Where are they going? Thataway, I reckon. Down yonder along the merchant roads. And the children pointed, and the townsfolk watched the strangers leave, plunging headlong into the shadows of a forest where any enemy could be waiting behind the trees.

Rival Falls. Kendath had never even heard of the place. Would they simply hand the Celestial Shard over to some Renegade lord? And receive what? A pat on the back? A sermon from their omniscient Druid friend? The Renegade lords had been incapable of defending their own fortress - how could they be entrusted with the single artifact that would either tip the gods into this world or cast them out forever?

When had Kendath begun to care?

His grip had slackened on the reins, and his horse was wandering over to a tuft of grass on the side of the road. He jerked the beast back, sent it into a trot to catch up with his companions. The neat rows of cottages were far behind them now. The mountains loomed ahead. Beside them, a black cloud of crows burst from the golden fields and erupted, screeching, into the sky.

Kendath overtook the pack mule, plodding sullenly at the rear, and drew level with Merrin and Adeila. He glanced at the latter. "I assume you still have the Shard?"

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It took Adeila a moment to register that Kendath was speaking to her. "Yes, it's in my pack," she replied absently.

She was leaving. Again. It wasn't that she felt like she was abandoning them. She'd visited with Riversmeet's own resident healer and found him to be a very agreeable man, more than capable and perfectly willing to take on the additional patients. And while she certainly had many friends, she had no immediate family remaining who depended upon her for anything. There was nothing forcing her to stay.

But there was nothing forcing her to leave this time, either. In fact, she'd almost begun to think that perhaps she would stay behind. Merrin was on the mend. Kendath's hand could have been at least partly treated easily enough. She cared for them a great deal, but she'd made no contract with them. She could stay, see to those who had fallen sick, help people get settled in, fall back into her own comfortable routine with the people she'd know her entire life...

And yet here she was, leaving. No question had ever been asked, no invitation extended. They'd started to leave, and so had she. Svit seemed to be far more at ease with this than she, climbing all over the horse in search of the best vantage point, now readying himself to jump over to Kendath's saddle. Adeila quickly caught him before he could attempt anything of the sort, setting him back down with a quiet sigh.

"How far to this 'Rival Falls,' then?"