A/N: Apologies for the wait. This chapter is particularly dear to my heart - like Ghilen, I love telling stories. But I guess that's obvious, haha.

Eilahnen had been unsure what to expect, and was more than a little wary when she went back home that afternoon and told her parents what she'd done. But, as she was slowly learning, it turned out that she needn't have worried about them.

Her mother had taken one look at her and broken into a beaming smile. Tears had glistened in her eyes as Eilahnen told them about her decision, and when she was done, Brierdahla had grabbed her by the shoulders and crowed to the ceiling.

'So this is what you've chosen! A warrior and provider, beautiful and strong, just like my own mother before you.' The tears had spilled over her mother's cheeks then, and she'd laughed joyously as she swiped them away.

'When you jumped up and ran off like that, I knew in my heart of hearts that you'd finally chosen. I just knew it.' Beaming, she cocked her head and rubbed Eilahnen's shoulders with affection.

'And it seems you've chosen well. Oh, our girl. The gods smiled on your father and I, the day they blessed us with you.'

But the words that made the deepest impression on Eilahnen's soaring spirits had been her father's, in the end.

'Venuralas'josa, ma ashalan. You can't run too fast down the path that's right for you.' Taking her hand, he'd brushed the knuckles to his lips, and then smiled at her over the ridge. 'I wish you all the success in the world, Eilahn. But with the spirit I see burning in you, I don't think you'll need my wishes.'

They'd fed her an early supper of dried venison and wild root, and urged her to rest, knowing her lessons would begin in the morning.

'Hamin son min'nydha, da'len,' they'd said as they bid her goodnight. 'Mar vira ju'ea uth'an.'

And she soon found out that both her parents and Inar had been right; on her journey to become a hunter, her walk, her toil, her struggle would be long. And catching up to her class was going to be a task in itself.

But she was ready to prove herself.

When she came back the next day to where the hunters held their lectures, she found Inar beginning a lesson. But before she could approach him she was taken aside by Ghilen, Inar's assistant teacher. He had explained to her that, in the three weeks of class she hadn't attended, she'd missed out on the key oral teachings she needed to know, before she could actively participate in class.

'Well then, how do I catch up? And what is it that I need to learn?' She'd been bound and determined, and the set of her shoulders had said as much when she'd looked up at the older man.

Ghilen had smiled at her in return. 'You'll be taking lessons from with me, until you're caught up. And you'll be learning about a number of things, but mostly, I'll be telling you about the Mother of Hunters—our Lady of the Forest. Andruil.'

The man's voice had been lush with reverence when he spoke of the goddess, and it hadn't been long before Eilahnen discovered that Ghilen, though his appearance didn't advertise it, was an excellent story teller.

And from that day on, a pattern had started to form; she would wake up in the mornings, get ready, and leave her house, telling her parents goodbye. Upon leaving her aravel, she would walk a familiar path, which her lanky blonde teacher would meet her on. Then they would walk together to a small clearing that had a single large tree in its center. In the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves, they would sit, Ghilen leaning against the gnarled trunk and Eilahnen perched in front of him.

And in a steady, earnest voice, he would tell her the stories of Andruil.

In no time at all, Eilahnen found herself immersed in the goddess' lore, and she welcomed the stories eagerly as they enveloped her; she had been dreaming of the Huntress since her mother's stories as a child, but her mother had never told her stories like these, and she rapidly found herself in possession of knowledge she'd never had. Things to outmatch her daydreams.

She learned that Andruil's beginning was actually a mystery, even to the Hahrens and Keepers; the People just couldn't agree on it. Some believed that Andruil came from the love between Elgar'nan and Mythal, but others believed that Andruil's connection to the land was so strong because she came from the earth itself. The only certainty of Andruil's kin lay in that of her sister, Sylaise; together the two sisters had looked upon the People and given them everything they needed to survive—food, and warmth. Subsistence, and shelter. The cornerstones of the Life had been their generosity.

As time went by, Eilahnen suspected that Ghilen himself had spent many hours dwelling on the Huntress, because his storytelling consistently carried a sort of permanent reflection; at the end of each day, he'd send her home with thought provoking questions.

'I don't want you to just accept this information—this collection of what the People believe,' he'd said once. 'You've chosen to walk the path of Andruil, and on it, you bring your own reasons. Your own memories. So you can't see her as just the People's collective; you need to forge a personal connection to the Huntress. Only then will she be real to you.'

It was a grandiose opening to the world of Andruil's worship, and the more Ghilen taught her, the more Eilahnen had found herself acknowledging qualities in the goddess that she'd begun to seek after in herself. Confidence. Assertion. Talent. She appreciated the fact that she could identify with this deity, and she appreciated how Ghilen's questions—though they had a tendency to keep her up at night—helped guide her wonderings into something more like revelations.

But the thing she appreciated most about Ghilen as a teacher was that he didn't wax nostalgic; instead, he was giving her the whole truth as he knew it. He had striven to impress on her early on that the Goddess they worshipped was not wholly good, and he didn't spare her in the telling of the Huntress' flaws.

Ghilen told her that Andruil became known by the People for her deeds, but she also became a symbol of polarity due to her nature; as Eilahnen sat listening day after day to Ghilen's colorful stories, a picture formed in her mind of a woman as terrible as she was beautiful, and as impulsive as she was indomitable. She became known to the People as the Mother of Hares, gentle and generous. But there were also times where they only whispered of her, and they called her Blood and Force.

This brought about some of Ghilen's most important questions: 'As a being of unmeasured power, Andruil still could not or would not escape imperfection. She is flawed, and capable of bringing both life and destruction to the world. So, ma ni, how is it that you decide who is truly good, and who is truly evil? Can someone who is flawed, who has made mistakes, still truly be seen as someone to be followed?

And it was undeniably true—even being a God, Andruil was fractured and flawed, and it was often uncertain how the People should ultimately regard her. She had brought both life and havoc to the world, before the God's strange dormancy, and the stories reflected it.

Second only to her own mother's telling, Eilahnen had sat rapt with attention as she listened to Ghilen tell her of the betrayal of pure and innocent Ghilan'nain; the benevolent sorceress had been creating magnificent creatures defying description from her inner magic for a full turn of the seasons, and Andruil had, in turn, been joyfully hunting them. It was then that Ghilan'nain suddenly found herself captured, battered and left for dead by an average, mortal hunter, and she'd thought her life over until Andruil herself appeared to her. Despite her sometimes stormy nature, the Huntress had been filled with an immediate love for Ghilan'nain, and in an act of ultimate mercy, she saved Ghilan'nain from her broken mortal body, and gave her Godly immortality as the first and perfect Halla. This turned out to be one of the most important developments of all time for the People, and both Ghilan'nain and Andruil were held in the highest regard, eternal partners in an ethereal plane. For a long stretch of time, the People felt nothing for her but adoration.

But there were shadows clinging to the Goddess' feet. Some of her misdeeds had now been lost to time and destruction, but others were wholly remembered.

It had been an appropriately gloomy day when Ghilen told Eilahnen of Andruil's journeys into the Void; the rain had battered down mercilessly onto the encampment, and teacher and student had chose to meet instead under the refuge of Ghilen's tent for lessons. Ghilen had lit a fire to ward off the damp when she'd arrived, and as he'd cautioned her to be open-minded, as he'd entered into the story, Eilahnen's eyes had been glued to the flames, her imagination working overtime to illustrate his words within their glowing orange depths.

According to the older hunter, there had come a time long ago when Andruil grew tired of her usual hunt, and all of the Earth's available creatures failed to excite her. Unwilling to give the Hunt up, Andruil decided that there was only one query that would satisfy her: to enter the Void, and stalk the Forgotten Ones. This was unthinkable; to all but the brothers Falon'Din and Dirthamen, the Void was a place inaccessible even to the Gods. But Andruil would not be dissuaded; the Titans of old tempted her beyond reason, making her see only the glorious triumph of battle, and not the danger lying just under the surface. And so she heeded not the brother's warnings, and plunged into the abyss.

For a long time, she was gone, and after a full day and night had passed, many of the gods began to worry. Just as Falon'Din declared that he would go to search for her, they heard the mighty crash of the Huntress tumbling from the void.

At this point in the story, Eilahnen had sighed with relief, images of a twisted abyss fading from her mind, and she'd interrupted Ghilen.

'So that's good then, Ghilen, right? She made it out of the void. That must have been an incredible feat.'

Ghilen had sighed in return.

'Yes and no. You haven't heard it all, ma ni.'

There'd been a sort of sadness on his long, angular face, and she hadn't interrupted again.

Yes, Andruil had returned flushed with the success of her endeavors, but the other gods noticed something awry in her; the Abyss was a place where wicked things thrived, with nothing to check them, and even a God should not linger there long. On each of her successive trips, of which there were many, the Lady of the Hunt returned gory with triumph. But she also suffered longer and longer periods of madness on her return. The other gods made great efforts to convince her that the hunts should come to an end, but nothing could dissuade her as much as the great beasts of the Abyss tempted her. And so she continued, despite her companion's feelings, and she worsened.

As time passed, Andruil put on armor forged from the dark matter of the Void itself, and all around her forgot her true face; it was thrown into perpetual shadow by a terrifying cowl. She made herself new weapons, crafted from darkness; at the exposure of such evil, her lands were consumed with plague, and the People languished. She howled wicked things, deranged things to all that would listen—things meant to be forgotten. And her madness became so terrible that the other gods feared that she would be hunting them, soon. The Mother of Hares was cloaked in a wrathful woe.

But all wasn't lost. It was at this point that Mythal, the Mother of Creation, came up with a plot to subdue Andruil. Mythal was ever regarded as exceedingly clever, and she drew Andruil's attention with the one thing she knew the Huntress still cared about—the hunt. Mythal spread a rumor among the gods, of a great and monstrous beast in the land—a foul serpentine creature, rivaling the power of those in the void that Andruil had been stalking—and then she fled from her home. She took the form of an enormous and terrible serpent, and waited for Andruil at the base of a faraway mountain.

When Andruil arrived, the two goddesses fought without pause for three days and nights. It was a great and terrible battle, especially for Mythal; the goddess of light was hard pressed to fight Andruil when she was shrouded in such deep darkness, and it showed on the field of battle. Not knowing that she fought her own companion, Andruil wounded the serpent greatly, all the while yelling a wild chorus about what she would do with the great beast's hide once she had it as a trophy. For a time, the question of Mythal's victory over the deranged huntress was in serious doubt. It was a blessing for all of elvenkind when, at long last and at great cost, light ultimately prevailed over darkness. Mythal's powerful magic finally sapped Andruil of her mighty strength, and the Huntress at last knew defeat. Mythal returned to her true form as Andruil fell, and took advantage of her depleted slumber. She ripped the dark and unnatural armor from the woman she had known, casting it into a pit where it couldn't be reclaimed. And with the last of her reserves, Mythal stole the Huntress' knowledge of how to find the Void straight from her mind.

After that, she carried her companion away from the mountain. For some time she soldiered on towards their home, figuring to journey all the way back on foot. But that didn't happen. Mid journey, she was met on the plain by Ghilan'nain; their goddess of navigation, and the one who had loved Andruil best. It was she who carried the wounded Mythal and the sleeping Andruil back to their godly home, and together, they nursed their fallen Huntress back to health.

When Andruil awoke, it was as if from a much longer sleep than the one she'd had; the Void had finally released its hold on her mind, and she was welcomed back by all who surrounded her, joyously.

But there was a great blank space, in Andruil; she could not remember any of the things she'd done since crossing into the Void, and thanks to Mythal's great power and intellect, she'd forgotten the Void altogether. Andruil was never again able to return to the Abyss, and like spring breaking free from a long and bitter winter, peace returned to the land.

'Eilahnen? Eilahnen...answer me.'

It had only been the gentle shaking of the older boy's hand on her shoulder that had the images in the fire melting away, and her slowly coming back to the present, like a bubble of air bursting at the surface of a deep pond. And it was only when he let her go her and reached over her to stir the flames that Eilahnen realized she was shaking. She'd been fully immersed in his tale, and despite the crackling flames by her feet, her bones felt cold. After that chilling tale, she'd been suddenly gripped by something that she'd only felt hints of in her lessons with Ghilen; it gripped like it never had before, as it ultimately gripped all Dalish hunters, so that the sensation came clear to her and she could no longer let it lie—the question of the nature of Andruil.

Imagine, she'd thought to herself. To be so powerful that you could choose to be either life, or death. To give shelter, or be the storm. To act as a shepherd...or a wolf.

Ghilen had noticed her grim look, and his steady voice had been kind when he asked her what she was thinking. She told him honestly, staring continually into the fire. But when she'd finished, he turned her by the shoulder so she'd face him, and when he had spoken, his blue eyes were serious.

'You're a quick study, Eilahnen. It seems to me like you're starting to understand the woman we hunters worship, and I didn't expect you to get there so fast. You're wondering who, or what, Andruil really is. A heroine, or a villain. A help or a hurt to us.'

She'd nodded, brow furrowed, and Ghilen had continued.

'Those are all important questions you need to ask, on the path you've started down. It's something all hunters think about...' He'd tilted his head. 'And The Mother of Hares doesn't give up the answers easily. She's done both wonderful and terrible things. She creates life, and destroys it. Sometimes she interfered when the People would have preferred she didn't, and other times she stayed silent even when we begged for her.'

'That doesn't really explain whether she's good or bad,' Eilahnen had pointed out.

'Because the answer is right in front of you—don't you see?'

He'd spread both of his long, slender hands, and looked her straight in the eye.

'Andruil is, and always has been, both. Some good, some bad. Some fairness, and some cruelty. At the root of it, the Huntress is a reflection of the wilderness she stalks. She represents not just good or evil, but balance. Neutrality. Chance. And that's why we follow her path. It's why we find her worthy—she was the first to stride through the wild, the first to strike a balance between giving and taking. The first to truly understand the nature of the Hunt, and the nature of nature itself. And then she made the decision to share that knowledge with us.'

'...Oh.'

The single word had fallen flat in comparison to the swelling shift his words had caused, but it was the best she could do. Once again her imagination had run away with her, and all at once she'd badly wanted some time to herself.

At her expression, Ghilen had smiled. 'I can see I've given you a lot to think about. I think now would be a good time to end today's lesson, because I want you to absorb all I've said. You have to come to terms with these ideas; like I told you earlier, your connection with Andruil needs to be your own. Come on.'

He'd gotten to his feet, and extended a hand to pull her up as well.

She'd taken the hand and been hoisted up, but a few seconds later when she'd turned to go home, Ghilen had called her name one more time.

'Eilahnen. There's just one more thing—something you said earlier that I want to address.'

Her blank expression when she turned around made him smile again—Ghilen was an insightful spirit.

'What is it?'

'When I asked you what you were thinking earlier, and you shared your thoughts about power...I need to make something clear to you. You may not be a god, and you may not have a god's reach. But make no mistake; you still have the power to bring good or evil to hand. It's ordinary people with limited time on earth that cause most of the change we see. While the gods lay silent, it's the People, and the shemlen, who make our decisions. You, Eilahnen, have the potential to give life, or take it away. You can be a shelter to those around you, or you can be a terrible storm. You can be a shepherd to those who would look to you for guidance...or you can choose to be the wolf.'

But it was the story that Eilahnen heard next that ended up impacting her the very most.

Bloomingtide had taken an earnest hold over Wycome valley, and bursts of life and color were popping up everywhere she looked. Student and teacher had elected to sit together in a soft patch of grass at the base of the glittering cliff face; not only because a beautiful floral perfume wafted through on the breeze, but because it put some distance between their solemn studies and the joyful whooping of the clan's little ones as they frolicked in the sun.

When he'd had her settle in the grass there'd been a particular twinkle in his eye, and she noticed right away that he was waiting for something. And she was right; it was the air of someone holding a story that they particularly enjoyed telling.

Now he was sitting just across from her, his narrow face lit with excitement.

'Uhm...what..?'

'Prepare yourself, ma ni,' he said, smiling. 'In terms of what it means to live your life as a hunter, I've saved the most important of Andruil's teachings for last. I know you love a good story, but there's a decent chance you've never heard this one.'

Her curiosity was definitely piqued.

'Why is that?'

Questions were obviously what he wanted from her, because his smile widened before he answered.

'Because it's the creed we hunters live by, really, and we keep it close to the chest. It's a very personal mantra that helps us navigate what we do every day, but it also helps us understand who we are. Because of all that, it's precious to us.'

Eilahnen briefly wondered if it was Ghilen's actual intention to drag out her curiosity, make her squirm with the anticipation he was building, and his demeanor made her suspect that the answer was a resounding 'yes', but she decided not to ask. She was squirming either way.

'It gladdens me to say that, now you've decided to join us, I can share it with you. You seem like someone who will really appreciate it, and get a lot of use from it.'

'Oh?' She tried to stay level, but internally, her patience was rapidly crumbling.

Come on, come on! Out with it!

'Yes.' Finally, he came to the moment he'd been so obviously waiting for. With a grand flourishing of his hands, eyes watching closely for her reaction, he spoke in his best story-telling voice.

'It's called the Vir Tanadahl—The Way of Three Trees.'

He was right—she'd never heard of it. But the second Ghilen said the name, she badly wanted to know.

'Tell me more.'

The look on her face made him grin.

'Gladly. The Vir Tanadahl. As I've explained to you, Andruil was and is the Lady of our Forests, the Master of the Hunt, and of wild beasts. She extended the hand of generosity down to the People in order to teach us her ways, and turn us into people of the wood. In many different ways she accomplished this, but the most important was when she gave us a set of permanent teachings—words to live by, as we walked her path. The Vir Tanadahl show you how to be a good hunter all your life, but they also provide certain insights into separate aspects of life that many of us take solace in. And now, you'll have them, in the hopes that they guide you through your journey.'

Then suddenly, Ghilen shifted; in one smooth motion, he produced a handful of something from his pocket, but she couldn't make out what it was. Then he continued on.

'The first of the Tanadahl is the Vir Assan—the Way of the Arrow.'

He placed an object in front of her in the grass, and she realized then it was a small stone; perfectly round, and perfectly smooth. It was pale grey in color, nearly white, and it had a carving of an impressive arrow chiseled into its surface. She had only a moment to admire its beauty, though, before Ghilen called back her attention so their eyes could meet.

'When Andruil handed down the Vir Tanadahl to the People, she said, "Remember my teachings; remember the Vir Tanadahl, the Way of Three Trees that I give you. The first of these is the Vir Assan: The Way of the Arrow. Be swift, and silent; strike true, do not waver. And let not your prey suffer. That is my way." And as her People we've tried to honor those words. To be fast, and strong, and decisive when we walk the hunting path—but also life's path. To be true to who we are, and to find it in our hearts to show mercy to our prey, no matter what that prey may be to you. Your clan would have you go forward in life believing that it's important what you do with the power that you have.'

It was a strong and beautiful ideal, one she had never heard worded in such a poetic way, and it filled her with hope and a strong ambition; she was already feeling full of emotion at his words, but Ghilen gave her only a few seconds of reflection before he moved again.

He placed a second rock down in front of her, to the right of the first; this one was a healthy, brownish grey, also very round and smooth, and in the surface was etched a picture of—

'A bow.' Ghilen's strong voice finished Eilahnen's thought for her, and when she met his eyes again, he continued.

'The second of the Tanadahl is the Vir Bor'Assan: The Way of the Bow. Of this tenant, Andruil said, "As the sapling bends, so must you. In yielding, find resilience; in pliancy, find strength. That is my way." And again, we try.'

Now Ghilen gave a smile, but there was something sad in it, and it plucked a wistful string in Eilahnen's heart.

'This is the Way that proves most elusive for most of us. The Dalish are by nature strong-willed and hard-headed—we've needed to be. But the Huntress wants us to remember that adversity is inevitable, and that, like there's a gale to break every tree, there is a challenge that will prove too much for any one person, if they try to stand against it. Sometimes, you need to give up pride, and bend—and in this bending, this pliancy, we will find the strength within ourselves to carry on. Sometimes it's only when we've cried defeat that we can find our way to victory.'

His words had the tips of her long ears burning with heat, because they hit close to home; it felt like only a day ago that she'd been forced to admit that she couldn't carry on down the path to becoming a crafter, in order to find this—her real calling. Pride had nearly cost her both happiness and strength.

Ghilen's voice called her back from her thoughts, and she had to refocus. Everything from his face to his voice to his physical energy seemed to will her to understand. Their eyes were locked as he placed down the third and final object, and it was a long moment before she looked down.

She wasn't surprised to see that the final object was another stone. This one, like the others, was carefully chosen for its round and smooth shape. It was by far the darkest of the three—nearly black, a rich and heavy hue, the color of freshly dug earth. Eilahnen had to squint through the sun bouncing off the stone to make out what was carved there, but when she did, she realized that it was a single large tree, its branches twisting out in a glorious crown towards an imaginary sky, every branch naked as if in the deep of winter. This time, Ghilen left her to stare at the stone as he continued.

'Now we've come to the final of the Tanadahl; the Vir Adahlen. The Way of the Wood. In the words of Andruil, Vir Adahlen tells us to "receive the gifts of the hunt with mindfulness, and respect the sacrifice of my children. Know, that your passing shall nourish them, in turn. That is my way."' Ghilen paused for a moment, seeming lost in thought, and when he spoke again, his tone had a sombre edge.

'Probably, when it comes down to it, this is the most important of the Tanadahl when it comes to actually being a hunter. It asks mindfulness of the fact that you are ultimately one with your surroundings—a drop in the ocean, a blade of grass on a plain. One warm-blooded creature in a wood.'

The black stone seemed to pull Eilahnen's gaze, so that she couldn't look away, and every word Ghilen spoke had started to echo ever so slightly in her head.

'The Way of the Wood asks us to observe the true neutrality of the circle of life. It asks us to realize that every time we take a life to fuel our own, that we should be thankful, and respect that it could have been the other way around. And that in some cases, someday...it will be.'

On Ghilen's last word, Eilahnen's head lifted, and when she looked at him he noted that the pupils in the shimmery violet were blown wide.

'I need time to think about this...give it the reflection it deserves.' She sounded stiff, even to herself, but she didn't see how to remedy it.

She felt feverish, and over-exposed. Something critical had happened, with Ghilen telling her this story. Briefly, she wondered if all new hunters felt as thoroughly blown over when they were finally given the words to this profound set of ideals—but she just as quickly decided that it didn't really matter.

More than anything, Eilahnen felt like she had been destined to hear them, and now they were making their way into the core of her, putting down roots. Somehow, she knew it was where they belonged. And now they boomed and rattled around, garnering a fierce love, demanding her attention.

Ghilen stared at her knowingly, and nodded. 'If that's what you need, then by all means.'

She rose without hesitating and made to leave, but then he called her back.

'Wait, wait! Hang on. You need these.' She turned back, and he was gesturing to the row of stones laying from light to dark on the ground.

'These stones are yours to keep. Every hunter gets a set, when they start their apprenticeship. They're meant to be a reminder...something you can hold, to be a symbol of the Tanadahl. We believe that, out of all the trees you'll walk through, those three will prove the most important. May they bring you peace in times of doubt, and strength in times of hardship.'

He gathered them from the ground, poured them into a small pouch, and handed the pouch to her, smiling.

Eilahnen's mouth had fallen open a little; she hadn't seen this coming. When she spoke, it was with a stammer.

'R..really?'

She reached out hesitantly to take them, and there was a tremble in her hand. As soon as the bag settled into her palm, she noticed of the weight of the stones in her hand, reassuring, and a small bloom of happiness unfurled in her chest.

'For me? ...Wow. They're beautiful.'

She opened the pouch's drawstring and peered into the bag, looking again at the stones nestled there, and a smile spread slowly across her face. After a moment, she turned unsteadily to go, but something didn't feel quite right. One thing was missing, and she turned back around.

'Um...Ghilen?'

'Yes, Eilahnen?'

'Thank you. Really, thank you so much for teaching me all of this...for giving me the stories of Andruil, and being my guide. It means the world to me.'

Ghilen blushed high on prominent cheekbones, and waved his hand through the air as if shooing away her words. 'It was nothing. Happy to do it.'

Eilahnen shook her head, smiling. 'It hasn't been nothing, Ghilen. Far from it. You've been excellent to me, and if Inar does half the job that that you do, I'll be glad of it—and also extremely surprised,' she said dryly.

At that last Ghilen laughed, and for a moment tutor and student simply shared in the levity. Then the mention of Inar jogged a question in her brain.

'Speaking of Inar, it reminds me—I was afraid to ask before, but not anymore. How much longer am I taking lessons with you, before I join him and the class?'

His chuckles had tapered off as she'd spoken, and now he raised his fair brows, seeming surprised at her question.

'Not long at all, ma ni. All we have left to do is start you on the basics of ethical hunting, and then you'll be joining the group, out in the woods. You finished your lessons on Andruil today.'

Shock waves rippled through her. She knew she'd been progressing fast through the religious talks, because she loved them—but not anything close to this.

When she'd started, they'd expected her to take two full weeks catching up on Andruil's teachings, maybe a little more; all said and done, it had taken her just over one.

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