Callan frowned. "You seem to forget that Mother was involved in this, too." He muttered under his breath, "At least she encouraged my love of horses."

He scowled as he spat out an apple seed. Then another. "What makes blacksmithing better than my work at the livery?" His father was leaving, but this conversation wasn't over. Not for Callan. "Oh, and I suppose you expect me to cook dinner too? What's this about me being raised for a 'higher position'? Cooking is not exactly respectable." He wondered if his father would respond, and looked around the kitchen for a suitable frying pan. He would cook with it, of course... not use it as a weapon. No matter how mad he was.

What could he cook? Stew? Eggs? Flapjacks? The latter sounded like the best option, despite the fact that it was normally a breakfast food. He found a bag of flour and started to make the batter.

Once there were enough flapjacks for both he and his father to eat well, he crossed over once again to his father's workshop and leaned against the door frame. "Well?" he said expectantly. "Do you have anything to say to that?" He brushed the flour off his hands with a dishrag, then tossed it carelessly on the table nearby. His tone came out harsh, but at this point, he didn't care. "Oh, and dinner's ready."

Telwyn paused and stood with her back to Brendlyn for a moment. Then slowly, she turned around and gazed at her. There was an odd look on her face. Her lips were slightly parted, but no smile tilted the corners upwards. There was an expression of surprise flickering in her bright eyes, but they were slightly narrowed. For a few seconds, she simply stared at Brendlyn.

But then her lips began to twitch and her breathing indicated she was laughing silently. Her eyes relaxed, as though satisfied, and she shook her head with a soft tsk tsk. "You are beyond my comprehension, wood maiden. This talk of hunting and betraying baffles me entirely. Of what you speak and why, I know not." She looked at Brendlyn again for a moment, then her eyes crinkled with mirth. "You are an odd girl."
Laughing silently, only the pattern of her breathing giving it away, she spun around and headed back towards camp.

"All I have to say is...." Farlan trailed off, turning toward the door where is son leaned, a look of disgust and annoyance painted over his young features; features which resembled his much missed mother in more ways than one. But he didn't just love his child because he kept a constant reminder of his wife near, but because he was his son. The older man sighed, letting the red hot iron clamps he had in his gloved hands slide into a bucket of ice-water.

"Supper smells good." He put down anything too dirty to bring into the house, and walked toward Callan. They squabbled often, usually about their difference in occupation and Farlan's dislike of Callan's place of work. But they were still Father and Son at the end of the day.

Callan didn't want his features to betray his surprise, so he managed to keep a slight mask on his expression. "Really?" He cleared his throat. "I mean... really. Yes. Of course it's good. It has to be good, after a long day like I've had." He wondered if the comment would spark another disagreement, and so he tried to amend it. "Like the day we've had." He sighed, flopping a dishrag over his shoulder. "It'll be ready in about two minutes."

The night was cool and the breeze soft. The leaves of the trees shook faintly and the shadows shifted across the ground fitfully. Moonlight shimmered dully on the slightly damp blades of grass. Those who slumbered were not awakened by the silent return of their guide.

------------------

For two days, the group was led through the thick and tangled underbrush of the forest. The pace was steady, but at times the going was rough. Telwyn did her best to lead the group around the clinging thorns and the unsteady ground, but this part of the forest, above all others, was not made for travelers.

Squirrels chattered at them irritably, disgusted that their private playground was being disturbed. Rabbits started out from under their feet, startling them. Deer gazed at them around tree trunks. Birds twittered and hopped away, not even concerned enough to take flight.

It was the animal's portion of the woods. It was wild; it was rough; it was unpredictable. But they did not meet a single human soul on their journey.

------------------

On the second night, their accommodations were rather less than desirable. The twisted roots of the trees thrust out of the ground in the tiny area Telwyn had found for them. The branches were so thick on the gnarled old trunks that no moonlight filtered down through the leaves. The ground was damp, but soft if you could avoid the roots. Unfortunately, that was difficult to do. Several of the group ended up side by side, struggling to find a rootless place to lie down. But their day had been exhausting and there were virtually no complaints as the group fell quickly asleep.

------------------

A lone wolf's howl pierced through the silence of the night. Several more rose to join it and an soon a chorus of wild passion shattered all peace in the forest. But the group slumbered on; despite the racket.

It was black beneath the canopy of trees. Almost nothing moved in the deep dark blanketing the forest.

Almost nothing.

Far from our little band of heroes, like a breath of wind or the wings of an owl, something moved through the forest. Silently and softly. The foxes did not stir in their burrows; the deer slept fitfully but did not waken; not a creature was disturbed as the silent shape passed. A black shadow among black shadows, a puff of wind on a breezy night, a silent form amongst the slumbering woodland creatures.

With no warning, a second shape slipped from the shadows and came so close as to bump up behind the first. A soot covered knife did not flash as it was brought to the throat of the first shadow.

For a moment, the two shadows were still as the trees around them; so near to each other they seemed to be one. Not a flicker of movement could be seen; not a whisper issued from the spot where they stood.

The wolves howled and the peaceful woodland creatures snuggled down in their burrows as they slept. But another sound startled awake those nearby. It started softly, rose in volume steadily and fluctuated in pitch. A lone sound, strikingly out of place and in a way, eerie.

Small animal mothers protectively curled around their young as a strange laugh bubbled through the woods.

The second shadow's taught stance little loosened but the knife, held dangerously close to the neck of the other, was lowered. It disappeared in the cloak of the taller muscled figured, but remained very close at hand since trust was hardly mutual between the two shady beings.

The trees around them groaned as though the wind somehow caused them to suffer and their branches waved crisp green leaves, appearing a glittering ebony in the night, that rustled gently and concealed any abnormal noise. The twilight held a chill as was customary for springs nights in Vayond, but there was an edge upon the air, like the sharp line of a dagger's blade.

"I'm glad to see you kept our rendezvous." He moved away slightly and stood under the deep shadow of a young hickory tree. "Not that I would have accepted otherwise..." he breathed, staring fixedly at her.

Dalin knew he didn't frighten her and his cold demeanor little affected her exterior masquerade of careless amusement. If there was ever another person whom remained a puzzle....an annoying unsolvable puzzle missing an essential piece or two, it was her. Perhaps it was that in his life there was little opportunity for laughter or that in all of his dealings with her he had never discovered how to slip past her personality. She's useful...and that's all that counts.

As soon as the knife was withdrawn from it's throat, the shadow slithered away from Dalin's dark form. A gloved hand readjusted the hood and an unmistakeable laughing voice drifted from the black opening.

"My, you do have a flare for the dramatics, do you not? I rather believe a near neck slicing is a bit much." The hand paused, fingers lightly grasping the fabric. There was a momentary pause. "You needn't look at me that way; I am going nowhere." For a few seconds, utter silence reigned between the figures and not a muscle moved. The wind whistled amongst the branches and the boughs creaked softly. A flurry of leaves rushed by the booted feet and the drift caught at the corners of the two cloaks and sent them dancing.

The smaller, less violent figure broke the charged stillness with a soft laugh. "There has been an interesting development that no doubt you will appreciate: Lord Henrik's runaway daughter is traveling with us." There was another brief silence, which one can assume was filled with voiceless laughter. "She is exhausted and now ready to go back to her Father rather than run herself ragged in the countryside. I imagine her Father is terribly worried about her..." Another silence. "Anyway, we shall arrive in Dravon on Saturday night." Covered arms folded impertinently over the shadowed chest. "Is that soon enough for you, Dalin?"

((And with that we are BACK ONLINE, folks! ))

The addition of Lord Henrik's daughter was, in reality, far from something Dalin appreciated. The presence of such a person would make extermination more difficult, since careful footing would have to be placed so that the runaway damsel was not harmed, but, instead, returned to her Father. Murdering a lord's daughter would not make the king any more hospitable, and Dalin was in no mind to have to listen to the royal person's threats and reprimands.

A low growl, barely audible, emanated as she spoke and he moved a hand, fingers wrapping around the pommel of his blade. Annoyance was clearly written upon his features, but these were concealed in the perpetual shadow cast by his cloak's hood. "That is soon enough."

This time it was his turn to lead the silence, wrestling it from the control of her careless laughter and binding it under the thick quiet that was his forever companion. He did not trust her. Not in the slightest. There relationship was not based upon trust. It was based upon the mutual acknowledgement that they could run circles around one another, tossing veiled insults, mildly threatening, and that in the end, as long as she was paid and he satisfied, nothing particularly violent would occur.

"Where are you currently camped?" Dalin's voice shattered their noiseless surroundings; noiseless excepting the gentle wind and the far off sounds that forever plagued the forest. His tone was low, and eyes trained constantly upon her.