"You're awake," Griffith said the moment Sin's eyes eased open. She turned her face toward him, her frayed front hairs clung to her round cheeks. He chuckled and delicately brushed the locks from her face. She rubbed her eyes and sat up. She groaned softly stretching her back.

"You have a lovely voice, Sin. Do you know that," he said. "You were singing something in your sleep. Do you know?"

"Huh," she said finally letting out that held breath. "S-singing?"

"Yes," Griffith chuckled under his breath as she stared at him with uncharacteristically wide eyed confusion. He recognized the look. She was embarrassed. He chuckled.

"It is a nice change to hear your voice you know. I do hope it sticks," he said and stood, brushing close to Arsinoe's face as her did so. He reached for her and she took his hand. He pulled her to her feet. She hesitated, standing so close to him. Her eyes hit the floor.

"Perhaps," she spoke barely above a whisper. He slipped his hands up her arms to her shoulders and she met his eyes. He leaned into her face…

And just as their lips were about to meet, the flaps to the tent opened wide and Guts rambled in.

"Perhaps not," she murmured and took to braiding her hair back into its giant plait.

"Griffith. We've found something," He said eyeing Arsinoe. She didn't even have the strength to roll her eyes but rather picked up her veil from where she'd left it and slung it over her head and around her face.

"What is it," he asked walking shoulder to shoulder with Guts and grabbing his sword from the entrance to the tent. Arsinoe remained inside.

Griffith greeted the sun through squinted eyes. Most of the rest of the band was already up and active. Some were eating, others were outfitting the horses. Casca was noticeably absent. Guts gestured to a stack of feebly billowing smoke in the not too far distance.

"What is that," Griffith asked a second time.

"Not sure," Guts said. "It doesn't look like a campfire. Casca went ahead to check it out, but she has not come back yet." Griffith eyed the weakly billowing smoke beyond the trees.

Arsinoe joined them outside with her bow resting on her shoulder. She felt in a haze. Her thoughts were jumbled confusions of reality and time, but one thing seemed certain. Her dream the night before was crystal clear. She could still see the boy's crying face in her mind, as near to her as her tender hands. She pursed and unpursed her lips and without thought started walking towards the distant embers floating trance-like past the men…

"Lucas," she murmured into the folds of her veil. "Lucas, are you still there…"

She received no response. She could not untie the knot in her stomach and in some ways she already knew why.

"Sin, don't be in such a rush," Griffith said seeming to sense her lingering agitation. "We will go meet her. Let's gather our horses.

She stopped in her footsteps and nodded sighing gently, she turned around and rejoined the men.

"Can you still hear me," she said feeling that inescapable pathos pulling her back in.

No response.

They took up the horses and in no time at all they came upon the source of the smoke. It was a shock that the billow wasn't grander, for the remains were many. The burnt out husks of shacks and barns lay before them. Mangled bodies of a few defenseless men lay face down in the filth. Casca's horse was tied at the charred wooden gate to a ruined farm. The band stopped there to survey the damage.

"Brigands," Griffith said impassively breaking the silence.

Gut's face soured as he noticed the relative scarcity of dead bodies.

"Slavers," he road ahead—his grip on the reigns tightened; his body characteristically tense.

Arsinoe was fighting a losing battle with her grief. She was trembling. Griffith came to notice and approached her on his horse putting his hand on her shoulder.

"This is not a good thing for you to see; I am sorry," he said in deep whisper

"Wellstone," she murmured quietly. "This place is called Wellstone, isn't it?"

"I don't know," he said barely above a breath.

Just then, the sound of Casca's footsteps roused everyone's attention. She was jogging comfortably with a piece of wood under her arm. She panted softly.

"Nobody else's here. I think they've all been taken away. Bunch of hooves and feet, leading that way." She pointed over her shoulder. "They tried to destroy every trace of this place. This was all I could find," she said and tossed down the plank she had been holding under her arm to the horse's feet.

On it, though badly burned, was painted in dull blue one word. Griffith's eyebrow arched. His curiosity piqued.

"WELLSTONE"

Arsinoe shuddered. Lucas was here. So close.

"Good thing," Guts said. "Looks like we just missed the fun. The fire can't be more than two days old."

"Fortunate. That's a good amount of distance. I would be wise not to engage them if it is avoidable. I suppose we will not take the main road any longer," Griffith proposed, his eyes lingering on Arsinoe's reaction. She withdrew into herself, losing hope by the moment.

"Lucas," she murmured worriedly. "Answer me?"

No response as they trudged the horses between the ruined homes and slaughtered men. Griffith kept his horse beside her, stealing quick glances to her side, but being thwarted by that veil.

Just what's going through that head of yours...

"Lucas…" this word alone, Griffith heard her murmur aloud. "Are you real," she finally asked dejectedly as a tear finally made its way down her face.

"I am here," ethereal words answered her, and she picked her head up as a gust of wind blew, carrying her veil off her head and blowing it some distance in front of her. Griffith rode ahead to catch it. Casca scowled. Arsinoe breathed deeply for what felt like the first time in her life with tears still stuck to her cheek.

He returned with her veil in hand and put his hand to her moist cheek. One could almost hear the sound of Casca's teeth grinding. Somewhere unseen but very near Gaston was laughing audibly.

"This is too much for you. We should press on," Griffith said.

"No," Arsinoe murmured between them. "We should hunt them down," she looked him up into the eyes with fire that Griffith had never before seen inside of her—even in the fury of their last battle. He grinned.

"It is unwise to unnecessarily risk the lives of my men, but…" he said when he saw the look in her eyes. "We are traveling in the same direction. They are slow, and we are fast…" he said and left it at that, trotting his horse ahead. Arsinoe smiled mirthfully.

"Lets go, men. Be on guard. There are many dangers on the road we travel."

Thanks for your patience. This is a little short for me, I know, but I'm just lining up the pins in my head. Happy day of happiness! :D