It was some time before Lena realised what was strange about this region: the lack of wind.

All over the Savage North, the wind roared and punched into travellers like a raging barbarian, but here, in the nook between the mountains and the dark, thick mass of the Fellwood, it was calm and silent. Pleasant, even.

Diriel was, of course, appalled to find a human settlement marring the wild beauty of this secluded spot, and for once Lena was inclined to agree. While she was happy to find a place where someone else lit the fires for a change, and where she could get extra blankets, the small-minded helplessness of the humans of the Wandering Village got on her nerves. Their elder had the gall to blackmail them into helping the village, and it was all Lena could do to stop Diriel from setting fire to all the hut-tent-things that passed for houses in it, right there and then. It was all the worse because she herself badly wanted to smack a few heads.

Rizdaer was strangely content, though. There was a worryingly satisfied smirk on his face as he drew his sword right through that Limha woman, and Lena was sure he said something, too... but right at that moment, Diriel rushed in to see to her injuries, and she was distracted by his touch.

Now, as the pathetically poor celebration the village has thrown to welcome the children back was in full swing, Lena slipped away quietly towards the most secluded, darkest little hut. Sure enough, in a nest of furs and blankets, Rizdaer sat, eating hurriedly, his back to the wall. And not just any wall, she noticed, but the wall that was in itself leaning on the sheer rock face. The man took absolutely no chances.

"Hey, you," she said. She expected him to bow down in silence, or say something like "take all my blankets, Mistress" but he surprised her.

"Did the druid allow you to skip a language lesson?" he sneered.

"Diriel is resting. And we won't be doing the language thing for a while."

"Why not?"

Lena shrugged. Would she be able to explain the tangled mess of her feelings? Would Rizdaer understand?

"Nice little nest you found here," she said, instead.

"The slender female, Pairi, said I could use it."

Lena had finished off her own food, and was now washing it down with some of the sour wine they had here. She steeled her hand, and the bottle covered most of her face, but still she wasn't sure if Rizdaer couldn't read her expression. She cleared her throat hastily and started scrambling out of the hut.

"Mistress..." Rizdaer's voice stopped her in her tracks as she was dragging back the thick hide curtain that passed for a door here. She turned around, and in the faint light she saw him, reclining on the heap of furs and blankets, his silvery white hair brilliant in the darkness. He looked almost... relaxed.

"Yes?" she said, her voice suddenly faint.

"When you sang with the druid... it was beautiful. He should have appreciated it more."

Lena smiled a sad little smile. "Thank you, Rizdaer."

:::::

She woke up before the dawn, when Venla the healer started to make noise. In the end, Lena, Salomeya and Nikosh slept in Venla's emergency cots, while Diriel set out to rest among the trees, some distance away from the human settlement. Before going to bed, Lena found out, through a few casual questions, that the small hut Rizdaer slept in was not Pairi's own bed. It had been the bed of a hunter who died recently, the hut disused and thought unlucky.

She made her way out of the village in the pale, pre-dawn light, until she found Diriel, sitting in the snow with his face turned eastwards. He did not turn when she approached.

"The stench of the human nest is, alas, drowning the fair natural scent of your body. I'm sorry, but I simply cannot converse with you while you reek so," he said.

And good morning to you, too, she thought. Out loud, she simply said, "Fine. We'll converse some other time, then."

"Lena, wait. There is a creek not far from here. I will help you wash the offence off."

"No, thank you, Diriel. I can still wash myself. See you later, then."

She got back to the village, and for a while busied herself with her equipment. Rations, fresh water, fresh layer of grease on her boots, on her bowstring. No one was awake yet, save for her and Venla. All was quiet, and seemingly peaceful, for all the dangerous beasts that supposedly roamed the region and continuously threatened the settlers.
She liked it here. She liked the uncompromising, cruel beauty of the Northern Nature, she liked the dangerous darkness of the Fell Wood, its strong will to survive. Suddenly, an urge came over her to stay here, stay here for good.

What else had she to do? She was tasked with finding the Neverwinter soldiers and getting them to Targos. Well, the soldiers weren't going anywhere anymore, and the orc horde was destroyed. She had opposed the fanatics of Auril mostly to release Illium and all of Andora from their ill-conceived alliance, and to eliminate a threat to Kuldahar. Kuldahar was a living monument to Nature and of course it was worthy of all the help she could give.
But now? With the iceberg melting, and Oswald rushing off, the five of them went on simply because there was nothing to stay for in the pass. Well, here was something to stay for, at least for her. Sally could make her way back to civilisation from here, and so could Nikosh - heavens knew he made enough money to bail himself out now. While she herself could just stay here, and make sure the village did not infringe too much on the Fell Wood. It would be a simple, peaceful existence. With every fiber of her being she knew she would love it.

Of course, Diriel would not be content with such a life... He would probably leave immediately, towards the Severed Hand which seemed to be at the center of his ideas. And Rizdaer... she had absolutely no idea what would happen to Rizdaer.
The sounds of the village waking up saved her from those two trains of thought.

It was a few hours later that the rest of them woke up. Lena spent these hours arguing with the village elder, who seemed to think it was a good idea to hold out on people who could kill her whole tribe. The Wandering Village custom seemed to be to pick their leaders for their cheekiness.

She was sitting back at the central bonfire when Sally appeared, making a show of stretching herself and wrapping her fur coat around her shoulders and generally flaunting herself as much as possible. Lena wondered why, since the audience seemed to be only villager hunters, but then she realised that Rizdaer was out of his little niche, too. He looked... content. Rested, relaxed. And he also looked right at the bard, with something akin to a smile on his face.

Lena suddenly regretted having slept so comfortably and soundly that she didn't even know if the bard had left her cot in the night.

As if reading her thoughts, Rizdaer came up to her side, dropped down onto his haunches, and spoke.

"Mistress, if I bedded another woman, what would you say?"

The question, coming right at this moment, broke right through all her defences. Lena couldn't help shooting a quick glance at Sally, and even if Rizdaer didn't notice it, the bard definitely did. She smirked, and Lena fought back the urge to strangle her. She strove for some control of her voice.

"Nothing. That's your business."

"You would truly just step back and let another female win?"

"Win? Rizdaer, your body is not a battlefield. It's not a... a thing to be fought for."

"No. I'm not handsome enough for that. But..."

"For the hundredth time, Rizdaer, I am not your Mistress, you are not my property, and you can...you can love whomever you want."

Rizdaer scowled at her, and then turned his face to the fire. Lena suddenly realised that he was not wearing his armour. There was only a close-fitting, black shirt under the black, woollen cloak, and leather leggings disappearing into the tall boots trimmed with dark yeti fur. Rizdaer refused to wear the winter wolf pelt, because he said the white colour was too noticeable.
She was still staring at the contours of his body under the shirt when his voice cut through her reverie.

"My insticts tell me I should be grateful for your indifference," he said. "But I'm not. It... offends me, somehow."

"Indifference?"

The word came out of her mouth with so much incredulity that it shocked even the drow. For a moment he forgot himself and looked right into her eyes. The sheer novelty of the experience almost hypnotised her.

And then Nikosh came up to the fire, smiled vaguely at everyone, and said, "Good mornin'. Where is the other dark elf gentleman, then? Because he sure was here in the evenin'."

:::::

Later on, Lena wondered how could she have been so stupid. Of course, it was not the first time that her judgement was clouded, by either one or the other or both of them. But everything about Nym screamed "less trustworthy than a really thin layer of ice on a very murky lake in late April" and yet she didn't even think twice about his disappearance.

She sprang up, readied her bow, and called out Diriel's name, once. He had to have this said for him: he appeared very quickly, and perfectly took up his place in the formation.
The same couldn't be said of at least one other member of the party, of course.

"Why on earth are you making that undignified racket, Lena? Because I swear, if-"

"Nym ran away before the dawn, so we should expect trouble at any minute," was what Lena meant to say. But her voice was drowned by a deafening thunderclap.

Two columns of light struck at the very gate of the village, and in a blink of an eye, two bizarre figures stood there. Lena had already been poised to shoot for a while now, and her arrow cut right through the membrane on one of the leathery wings.
Or were they hands? As the two creatures approached - completely unconcerned by the blows of Lena's arrows or the panicked shouts of the village hunters - she could see that what she took for wings were really another pair of arms, with giant, webbed palms at each end. But what was really repulsive was not the bestial form. It was the expression of contemptuous hatred on the two very normal, human (elvish, even) faces.

"I am Isair, and this is my sister Madae," the male cambion said. Interestingly, they have both turned towards Rizdaer, and talked to him as if he were the leader of the party. Of course, his place was at the head of the combat formation.

After the first bout of surprise, Lena realised he was actually handling the conversation very smartly. The cambions started off with some vapid, grandiose threats, both personal against their group and general against Targos and the Ten Towns. But after a few of Rizdaer's stony silences and unimpressed monosyllables, the twins were suddenly explaining their plans in detail, telling all about their army of half-breeds, about their planned attack on Kuldahar, even about their allies in Luskan. Lena could see both Diriel and Salomeya watching the drow in shock.

It was almost a pleasant interaction, really, right until Madae said, "Do we kill them now, or shall I take them to the Hand, to serve as breeders?"

Lena felt the bile rise in her stomach. She didn't hear Isair's response, and it wouldn't have mattered anyway. She grappled with her quiver for one of the Sure Strike Arrows, to put it right into the eye socket of that abominable creature...

But the cambions were gone in a flash, a thunderous explosion that cut down the hapless village hunters who weren't fast enough to duck. Their charred bodies fell to the snow, twitching.

"Well, this could have gone worse," said Nikosh. "I for one am not upset that we didn't have to fight demonic creatures from hell, how about you, miss?"

But Lena was looking at the charred bodies, which somehow didn't stop twitching.

"Ready your sling, Nick. It's not over."