Author's Note!
Please go back and read Chapter 1. I've replaced it. While it was long, I felt that it was rushed. I'm using chunks of it as a base to re-write the story. I will continue on with my other works. Updates will be slow all around. I work 3 jobs and read more than write to relax. All my stories would be super violent otherwise.
I don't have a beta, but usually read through my chapters several times before I post them. Let me know if there's something that doesn't make sense.
Daine was packing her saddle bags when Numair opened her door and leaned in the door way. He looked better than he had the day he returned, having slept the two days between then and now. She was going to leave under the cover of darkness, and Alanna had already spelled Cloud to look like a chocolate palomino earlier in the day.
"You'll have to call her Sky or Storm," Alanna had suggested as they were getting ready to go to lunch. "Everyone knows your pony is named 'Cloud'. With the disguise you'll be receiving from Numair when he wakes up, we'd hate to have your cover blown from your mount."
"What did you both decide to call Cloud?" Numair asked.
"We decided on Storm," Daine replied as she turned to look at the black robe mage. "Here to give me my disguise?"
Numair smiled at her tone before continuing into her room and taking her into a hug. Daine smiled and laid her head against his chest, listening to his heart beat. They stayed like that for some time, before Numair pulled away but still held her in his arms.
"I hate that you're going," he finally said.
Daine smiled and quipped, "You always hate when we're apart."
Numair returned her smile, saying, "The unfortunate circumstance of being Tortall's two most powerful mages."
"You'll write?" Daine asked. "I can ask a sparrow or a hawk if they wouldn't mind taking a message—"
"Write me first, Magelet," Numair cut her off. "I'm sure you'll find a bird more easily in the North that would prefer flying to the South than the other way around."
"You're right," Daine said as she stepped away from Numair to continue her packing. "Much as it pains me to say."
Numair laughed. "You've been spending too much time with Alanna."
Daine stuck her tongue out at him in a fit of immaturity, but shrieked when Numair lunged at her and started to tickle her. Trying to escape in vain, Daine finally said between peals of laughter, "Numair! I need to finish packing!"
"What about my farewell, Sweet?" Numair asked, a devilish smile on his face, pausing in his tickle attack.
Daine, catching her breath, pretended to be deep in thought. "I suppose I might be able to muster an adequate farewell for you."
Feigning hurt, Numair fell onto the bed she was arranging and packing her belongings on. "Mi'Lady! How you wound me!"
"Player," Daine accused.
She followed him onto the bed, grin matching his, as they bid each other farewell long into the night.
She was freezing cold.
Shaking her head, she realized she was in a field stable surrounded by deep snow, the straw she was laying on doing little to insulate her from its chill. Hates Clovers was again looking at her strangely, and she realized a necklace was around her neck. It was a silver claw of some kind on a leather thong next to what looked like a scratch covered rock. She inspected the claw closer, fiddling with it with her strange hooves.
"Ow," she said as she put her thumb in her mouth. That claw was sharp! Where did it come from though?
'Do you remember your name?' Hates Clovers asked.
She was quiet for a moment, thinking. A badger face came to her, but that wasn't her. A smiling face with brown eyes came to her, but she got 'stork' from that for some reason. A blonde woman with smiling blue eyes looking at her, mouth moving...
"Veralidaine," the girl said, then wrinkled her nose. She looked at Hates Clovers and said, more confidently, "I'm Daine."
The other mare gave a happy whicker.
"I think I have a foal," Daine said.
Hates Clovers got very still. 'A foal?'
"Yes," Daine said. "My mate is the...Stork-man?" She said a little uncertainly.
Hates Clovers went quiet, thinking deeply. 'I have not heard of the Stork-man, but I have never been as far south as I've been with our former herd. Maybe the Fair in Cría will give you some answers.'
'Maybe,' Daine silently agreed.
Shivering violently now, Daine shifted into the visage of Snow Mask, keeping a bit of black on her nose that faded halfway up her snout in ode to the Badger. He was important to her, but she couldn't remember how. Two-legger thoughts drifted into those of herd and horse as she fell asleep.
There was still snow on the ground, considerably less than when Snow Mask had awoken as a two-legger, when Birgit came to halter them and string them with a bunch of other horses long before dawn. Dandelion was left in the corral, but Hollyhocks was put on the string with them. He was upset, but Birgit quieted him; dim copper fire glowing in her hands as she rubbed his face, soothing him.
Snow Mask spooked as a blanket fell off of something in the small wagon Birgit was taking.
"Hawk! Shhhh!" the girl told her in a harsh whisper as she rubbed the black stripe on her nose, looking at her red traveling chest; lacquered to resist wear, so somewhat shiny. "It's just a chest for clothes!"
It took a few moments, but Snow Mask quieted, but still easily spooked as a glinting red eye swam through her memories. It was still dark when Birgit left her village, several horses and a few ponies tied in a string behind her small cart. Pulled by Hates Clovers, there was a gelding cob, Gerry, in the string that would switch with her.
Birgit drove them in silence, dearly hoping she'd be far away when everyone woke in the morning for chores. The girl was able to let out a worried breath when it began to snow; a small smile gracing her face. The gods were on her side sending weather to hide her tracks. Traveling with more confidence, Birgit drove on.
The fair wouldn't start for two days, but she was hoping to get there the day before, weather permitting, so she could find the Horse Lady from the South, from Tortall. She knew her horses belonged there. Something in the horse with the war bonnet and her perlino friend told her that. Birgit drove her party through the morning, stopping briefly at midday to water the horses at a nearby stream, before continuing through the afternoon.
As dusk was settling, Birgit stopped to set up camp. She picketed the horses and fed them, dug a latrine, and built a small cook fire for dinner, heat and protection. Dinner was a thin soup with crusty bread, and the girl fell into an exhausted sleep. Hates Clovers dropped her head in sleep. Snow Mask took the hint and stood first watch. The gelding taking third.
It was during Snow Mask's watch that a wolf showed up. Snow Mask didn't have to be close to smell the blood. It was dripping in the snow behind the canine.
'Pack-sister,' The wolf greeted. 'Can you help me?'
'I would but I am the Watcher right now,' Snow Mask said regretfully.
The wolf shook his head, stumbling with the action. 'My pack surrounds you. They will Watch for the night. No harm will come to you and your pack.'
Snow Mask turned to let Gerry know, but ended up reassuring him that the wolves weren't going to eat him and they would Watch for the night. Reluctant, Gerry dropped his head for sleep, and Snow Mask turned to heal the wolf; the arrow wound not as serious as the loss of blood.
When Birgit woke up in the morning to paw prints throughout the camp and a yearling wolf sleeping next to her, she screamed.
The storm and the state of the passes put Birgit back a day. The yearling wolf she had woken up next to, whom she named Biscuit after catching her eating all her trail bread, was helpful in catching small game for her to eat along the way; the puppy having spoiled most of the trail rations Birgit had brought with the canine's food hunt. They rounded the bottom of the lake and were heading northwest, the snow they had experienced at the other side of the lake turning into a dismal, cold rain in the lower altitude.
By evening, Birgit could see the lights in the distance; torches and fires for the late arrivals and trading. Deciding against making camp, Birgit pushed on through dusk and into darkness. Biscuit made regular circles around their small party; the horses getting antsy as the darkness grew. It was with great relief the trader's path they were following evened out and the trees began thinning. Before Birgit knew it, her small cart was in a muddy clearing, Biscuit was sitting next to her, and other string of horses were whickering nervously as they shifted on their hooves, smelling the rain filled night.
Picketing her strings nearby, Birgit set about pitching camp in her wagon; the ground still too wet from the rain. In the morning she'd look for the Horse Lady from Tortall.
When Biscuit woke her, Brigit felt it was all too early; the sky in the east was all blushes and oranges, the sky not even blue yet. Sighing, she got out of her makeshift bed, set about tending the horses, performed her morning ablutions, before changing her clothes and setting about familiarizing her self with the Fair. It took Birgit until the early afternoon before she found the Horse Lady.
It was the great, beautiful dog that gave her away.
He sat right in front of her, not moving, and if Brigit tried to step around him, he'd get back in her way. Carefully offering her hand, as if her pet wolf was less terrifying, the dog delicately sniffed her hand, cocked his head, and Brigit swore he said, 'come,' before she was following him through the crowd. He led her to a mostly empty corral with a dark skinned woman next to it.
"Tahoi!" the woman scolded. "I need you here to guard the horses!"
Birgit suddenly found herself being pushed towards the woman, stumbling and nearly falling in the mud if it wasn't for the woman herself.
"Sorry, mum," Birgit apologized as she got her footing.
"Call me Onua, please," the woman introduced as she helped Birgit to her feet. "It's not every day my one woman dog is dragging another woman to me."
"I'm Birgit Ovarsra," Birgit introduced herself with a curtsy. "I brought some animals to the Fair here that I got a feelin' should be yours."
The woman raised an eyebrow, clearly disbelieving but willing to humor her. "I'll look at your horses, Birgit."
Lighting up, Birgit motioned Onua to follow her. The girl wound through the crowd, Onua right behind her. When she reached her cart and horses, Biscuit ran to meet her. Birgit caught her, rubbing her sides, laughing when the yearling washed her face. When the girl looked back to Onua, she got concerned. The dark skinned woman was just standing there.
"Onua?" Birgit tentatively asked.
"Horse Lords above," the woman breathed.
Onua couldn't believe what she was seeing. There were fine lines on an animal, and there were fine lines. Of the eight horses the girl had, three stood out: a buttermilk dun mare, a young chestnut stallion who had a white high sock on each leg and a snipe on his face, while the perlino dun practically shone in the sunlight. The other horses were stunning in their lines, and their colors were just as amazing, but more just the side of common; at least up north. A lot of the colors were more rare further south. Onua turned to Birgit.
"You want to sell them? To me?" Onua carefully asked, astonished. The animals were fine enough for Jon and Thayet's family; more than fine, really.
"I just have a feeling they should be in Tortall," Birgit went on. The girl looked at the badger-sniped buttermilk dun. "She got her own path, the buttermilk dun; not no one owns her." She bit her lip but continued on. "I call her Hawk, and her friend Clover."
Onua didn't know what to say to that. She knew the gods and goddesses worked in mysterious ways, unless Alanna was involved; she and hers seemed to get more direct answers than most. The K'mir eyed the girl, for she wasn't much older than another years before that had approached her for work, as she pet the ruff of what appeared to be a young wolf.
A sad smile slowly crept across her face; the Horsemistress couldn't help but see a girl with smokey brown curls and a recalcitrant pony. She could help this girl. The gods must have given her a task. She would help Birgit achieve her mission.
Onua had a job to do, too, and standing around being melancholy wouldn't buy horses. "Birgit, why don't you bring bring your animals and possessions over with mine. Tahoi can show your dog how to guard."
Onua couldn't help but smile, then had to hide her startlement, when the girl corrected her and confirmed her suspicions. The bright grin Birgit gave her as she turned and said, "Yes, Onua! But Biscuit's a wolf."
The K'mir watched as the girl raced about her little camp, hitching her gelding to her cart, before stringing her horses and ponies, keeping the dun and perlino loose of the string but tethered together. Onua turned and heard Birgit cluck at her horse, and the woman made her way back to her camp with the clomping of hooves behind her.
Every year when she came up to Cria, Onua looked for Daine. She had a good feeling that this year, she may actually be found.
Once Daine reached the border of Tusain, she took her time. Abhorred at the idea, but knowing the cover would be perfect, Daine had a bundle of furs secured to the back of her saddle and a map with a few trap lines marked on it. Looking at it, she realized that the lines were closer to where Tortall, Galla and Tusain met. Smiling, the wildmage and her pony picked up the pace to try and reach the border town in less than a week.
"I miss 'em," Daine confided in her pony, as she settled down for the night, poking hard at the fire she didn't need but had to have to keep up appearances. "I didn't think it would be this hard."
'Your foal is still young,' the pony responded. 'Of course you'd miss her and the Stork-man.'
"I should pro'bly start askin' the local birds ta see if any of them'll take a message," Daine said softly as she fell asleep. Cloud whickered a goodnight and, after conferring with the local animals, fell asleep. A martin would wake her in a few hours.
The next day, Daine and Cloud ran into a flock of ravens. Smiling as the constable of birds let out a raucous noise in greeting and made a game of who could say hello when. She watched as two ravens cheated the game, somehow still within the rules, and landed on her shoulders.
'We win! We win!' the one on her right shoulder declared. The raven on her left echoed the statement.
'I'm Mün!' The raven on her right said, while the bird on her left introduced himself, 'And I'm Hüg.'
"Nice to meet you both," Daine greeted, large smile on her face. She rode on as the two birds told her about their conspiracy and the ongoing game they had with a murder to the south of their territory. Their smaller cousins often lost to their more complicated games, but they had, last go around, won.
'I think they cheated, personally,' Hüg whispered, only just interrupting Mün's story.
"You both are very clever," Daine told them in all seriousness despite the smile still on her face. An idea suddenly struck the mage as the birds began talking to Cloud, the acerbic pony giving it more than she got while the ravens turned it into a game.
"Since you both are very clever," Daine began, "I was wondering if you'd like to do a few tasks for me?"
'Tasks?' Mün asked.
'What kind of tasks?' Hüg asked, head cocking in confusion and question in the way that only birds can do.
"I have flock mates in the South," Daine began to explain. She told the two birds about the bad information Jonathan, her flock leader, was getting from his scouts, and how he had just recently realized it when other scouts gave conflicting reports. The ravens hissed in outrage at the blatant disrespect shown.
'There can be no fun games with lies,' Hüg said. 'Tell us what you would have us do, and we will do it!'
Daine pulled a rolled up parchment that she folded into as small a parcel as possible. "Cloud told you about the Stork-man. I need one of you to take this to him."
'Me! I will do it!' Mün volunteered, hopping back and forth on her shoulder. Once Daine held her palm flat, the large black bird launched from her shoulder to her hand, grabbing the report, before taking off into the sky heading South.
'And what will you have me do, wing-sister?' the other raven inquired.
"I need you to scout the immediate area for me," the wildmage told the bird. "two-leggers will think it strange you're with me though, so pretend you have difficulty flying and landing."
'Let the games begin!' Hüg declared, laughing as he took to the air, wobbling about as he flew.
Daine smiled, and hoped the turn of phrase wouldn't prove to be an ill omen.
Hates Clovers was cropping grass through the fence while Snow Mask cropped some hay that the Horse Lady had forked into the corral at the start of the day. It was just them, Hollyhocks, and the rest of Birgit's equines. Gerry was on a lead line outside the corral with Tahoi and Biscuit guarding. Gerry didn't have fine enough lines to be stolen, and he was gelded, so quite safe. All the two-leggers had their preferred cart horses after all.
Mid morning brought the Horse Lady and Birgit back, each leading a string of horses and ponies respectively. The Horse Lady's string of horses seemed rather uppity, and Snow Mask saw why immediately. There was a king stallion among the line of yearlings, probably their sire, and he was swearing and heaving about about being taken from his heard despite the number of mares in the line.
'He must have had a large herd,' Hates Clovers whispered to Snow Mask. Snow Mask whickered agreement as she took another mouthful of hay.
'THIEVES!' The stallion roared as the Horse Lady maneuvered him and the string into the corral with the rest of the Birgit's ponies. He snorted and paced the fence, calling Birigt and the Horse Lady all kinds of two-legger insults. Snow Mask watched chewing her mouth full of hay.
'Don't meet his eyes,' Hates Clovers hissed with her head down. 'When stallions get worked up, anything can be a challenge.'
Still worked up, the Stallion paced another round of the corral before turning to investigate his new forced herd. The yearlings gave respect and avoided anything that could be possibly mistrued as a challenge, while the mares turned receptive and inviting. Best not to anger any Stallion, King or not, that had been a Herd Boss.
Hates Clovers and Snow Mask watched as the Stallion made his rounds, slowly calming as he greeted mares. Snow Mask's herd-sister gave her a Look. She knew Snow Mask wasn't receptive to stallions. Snow Mask had her own agenda. With this uppity King Stallion, Hates Clovers could practically feel the fight coming; like the thunder storms in summer.
Hedging as far from Snow Mask without drawing attention, Hates Clovers sidled to the corral fence only to discover the Horse Lady and Birgit were not close by. Sighing in defeat, Hates Clovers stayed where she was to give Snow Mask room for the eventual fight. She'd try and get the Two-legger's attention in the mean time.
True to Hates Clovers' thoughts, the King Stallion sidled up to Snow Mask after he finished introducing, or flirting, the mare couldn't tell, with a strawberry roan that had been put in the corral before him. Half ignoring him as he showed off for her, Snow Mask kept eating the hay that was in the corral.
"I'm Storm Cloud," The stallion introduced as he stacked for her, bringing his head close to show off his muscular neck. "Am I your liking, Precious?"
Snow Mask picked up her head and gave Storm Cloud her bored attention, chewing her hay as she pretended to give the dark horse a once over.
"No," the mare plainly said as she went back to the hay. There was stunned silence. The dun mare glanced back at Storm Cloud who seemed irritated. She didn't really care either way. She had a Stallion, and no one would replace him.
"No?" The Stallion queried.
"No," Snow Mask responded.
The Stallion snorted. Snow Mask didn't see him gather himself before she felt the sharp pressure from his bite on her withers.
Snow Mask squeeled.
Loudly.
"Flea bitten son of a cob!" Snow Mask swore at him, tail flagging; ears pinned.
Storm Cloud reared, insulted, looking to strike her with his hooves. "Do NOT insult my patronage!" the stallion roared. "I am descended from Weiryn's stock!"
The name of the northern god reverberated through Snow Mask, but before she could ruminate on the thought, she was defending herself from Storm Cloud and defending the yearlings that had the unfortunate placement of being behind her. She didn't hear Hates Clovers' begging neigh, or the two-leggers crowding around, making bets. Snow Mask was wrapped up in trying not to be killed by a stubborn stallion.
Birgit Ovarsra was many things. She was Northern born, worked in a predominantly male field of horse breeding and training, was a girl, and was currently fighting her way through said men in her field to get to the gate of her appointed corral at the most prominent Northern horse fair and stop an enraged stallion from killing her favorite mare. Finally getting tired of being shoved around, Birgit threw an elbow, ignoring the corresponding swear, and continued making her way through the throng to the corral gate.
It took a few minutes, and quite a few swears, but once Birgit broke through the front of the crowd, the sight took her breath away.
She and Onua had purchased the Stallion, thinking he was black. The stallion was the darkest, blackest dun Birgit had ever seen in her life. The black of his coat, in the sunshine, was a dark coffee brown which showed the difference of where his brown was and where the true black on him started.
She was lost taking in his brilliance until Hawk gave a fierce whinny, breaking her thrall and causing her to run to the corral gate just as Onua broke through the crowd herself. The two of them unlatched the corral and bolted in; Onua heading towards the Stallion, Birgit heading towards the mares. The girl heard the stallion's snorts and whinnies as she quieted Hawk and the yearlings behind her. The mare had a gash on her whithers, but otherwise looked fine.
Keeping a hand fisted in the mare's mane, Birgit turned to see Onua had a hand on the Stallion's halter and was whispering to him. He was still agitated, but was calming quick. The girl was amazed at Onua's skills, and the stories she had heard about her weren't even close to the woman's amazing skills. The K'Mir, once the stallion was suffiently calmed to her liking, hitched a lead to the halter and led him out of the corral; the gathered crowd dispersing as she did so.
Birgit could only wonder, as she stood amongst the horses, if the Fair was always like this.
Luckily, the debacle between Hawk and the stallion was the only fiasco they had to deal with. In the middle of the week, Onua decided that it was time to head South.
"I usually wait until the end of the week," the dark skinned woman told Birgit as she packed her traveling sacks, "but the stock was so good, and I've acquired all the horses and ponies I was tasked to purchase. No sense in staying around hoping for better stock than I already have."
Birgit nodded as she also packed what little she took out of her trunk, glad to be leaving early. Not that she told Onua why. She didn't tell the K'mir that she had left her village without telling anyone, or that it took three days from her village to get to Cria, and if some of the handlers and her Da had left the village at the start of the Fair, then they'd be due in at the end of the day.
However, Birgit's fears were put to rest when, at midday, with the ponies strung together and the horses on a separate string, Birgit and Onua rode out of Cria on their way South. The Gallan girl was glad that she had bought extra meat buns the day before with what little money she had left that she had brought from home. They were cold, and a little gummy from the gravy soaking into the pastry, but they were delicious as Birgit rode in her small cart with Biscuit trying to carefully steal pieces from Birgit's hand.
Smiling and swotting at the wolf, the Gallan girl laughed as the meat bun slid out of her hand and Biscuit got the pastie anyway. Hawk had turned her head to see what was going on, her and Clover being tied to the front of her wagon near Gerry. Seeing it was just them fooling around, the mare snorted and kept plodding along with Clover.
Numair was going through his library trying to find a text that he knew one of his students could use for their end of term project. The windows to his rooms werer open to invite the light breeze to attempt to air out the dust. The early summer air was cool against the warm day, promising to be hot as the day wore on. Finally finding the text he was looking for, the mage quickly scanned the first few pages, nodding his head; it was the right book.
The mage was brought out of his musings by rough, trilling cawing. Walking over to one of the windows, the tall man saw two dark birds dancing—he couldn't really call it anything else—through the sky. He'd seen crows and their games, as Daine had explained to him, and smiled at the sight of the happy birds. As they flew closer to the castle, Numair realized that they were not crows; they were much too big to be crows. Holding the book close, Numair ran out of his rooms and to the courtyard as fast as he could.
When he made it outside, he ran to the center of the courtyard as the birds circled over it. Their raspy cawing changed pitch, swooping and diving as they were until one landed on Numair's shoulder.
Dark eyes looked into dark eyes.
"Hello, Raven," Numair greeted. "Can I help you?"
The bird's friend landed on his other shoulder. The two birds seemed to bicker and argue in their rough voices before Numair was pecked in the side of his head. Irritated, the mage looked to the bird on his left shoulder and immediately had a foot in his face. There was a crudely tied message on the bird's leg. Unrolling and unfolding the parchment, Numair began to read.
Walking quickly to his class, he turned the book over to the student that had inquired after it and said, "I expect you to study on your projects and have made significant headway by class next week," before dismissing them.
He needed to speak with Jon.
Pausing to read the letter again, Numair couldn't believe the amount of information Daine had fit on the parchment; writing as small as she possibly could.
My dearest Whooping Crane,
The sky is clear and blue with nary a cloud to be seen. Winter is still fighting over the mountains yet. I am riding the trail now and have so far reaped the bounty of the season. With as much time left, I'm sure we will have enough furs to trade for the winter. The road to get here was difficult. There was a washout a few miles before the head of the line where the mountains form a glenn. It almost took out the little pond there. We weren't prepared for the winter last year, us just havin' moved, and the winter was bad last year according to Grandda, but the happy birdsong and animal chatter almost makes me forget it could be just as bad this year. I haven't had a run-in with any strangeness or bandits. The Road is well used and there are frequent signs of other travelers. Mayhaps I'll be able to trade before the snow comes so our pony isn't too laden with furs. Not that'd be a bad thing. I shouldn'a be much longer on this end of th' line. I'm about 5 miles in with 30 more to go. It'll still prolly take me awhile before I get back. Hopefully I don't run inta any bandits. I know we use Mün and Hüg more locally, but thanks ta you and Grandda for lettin' me use 'em while I'm out. Say hello to our little filly for me. Give the cat an extra scratch and thank the hostler for me; I know ya were worried about the horses with me leavin', but the hostler should be able ta help ya 'round the place.
Lookin' forward t'yer reply; Sarra Jaegersra
Numair looked at the name that Daine had signed with and smiled. She had assumed the names of her parents quite well. They were hunters in a sense; hunters of trouble more than anything else. Hunters for Peace.
A throat clearing brough Numair out of his thoughts only to see that he had read the letter while walking and was currently in front of Jon. The king was in the middle of writing correspondence himself, and had an eyebrow raised as if he was silently scolding the mage. One of the ravens cawed in seeming laughter, breaking the silent conversation. They launched off Numair's shoulders and glided over to Jon's high-backed chair to perch next to each other on the back.
Numair gave Jon Daine's missive, attention going between Jon's face and the playful, now serious, ravens. He smirked, but quickly hid it, at Jon's mummble, "Grandda? Really?!" The king looked up when he was done, a frown on his face.
"I hope that washout wasn't too bad," the sovereign said. "She made it sound like it was nothing."
Numair shrugged, taking the seat that was in front of the king's desk. "It may not have been much for her, considering that she grew up in the mountains. But you and me? We may think that that washout should be cleared out."
"I'll send out a Rider Group as soon as their rotations are due at the end of the month," Jon said. "I don't want them to recognize Daine when she's supposed to be undercover."
He pulled a piece of parchement out of his bottom desk drawer. It was low quality and very plain. Numair raised an eyebrow. Jon smiled wryly. "I have to respond to a missive from my 'granddaughter'. She didn't specify you, but you may as well have been her husband with the familiar way she was writing to you."
Numair smiled wistfully. He couldn't wait until Daine came back.
Jon tried to cover his smile with a scowl. "Focus Numair," he chided. "I don't want to know what just crossed your mind. If we're playing at Mountain folk, her tone suggests that you moved to where I live, I'll start the missive and you can finish is."
"Sounds good," Numair said. "I'm going to talk to Onua and Sarralyn and see what they want to say. I'll add it in."
They both nodded. Jon turned to see the ravens on the back of his chair. He called for his Page. "Please bring some water and whatever scraps the Master Cook has lying around for the Ravens, please."
"Yessire!" the page enthusiastically replied before taking off, hopefully directly to the kitches.
The king turned back to Numair. "Why don't you go get some food yourself. Meet me here after the supper bell to pick it up. We'll send the birds off in the morning."
"It's a plan the, Jon," Numair agreed. "I'll see you after supper."
posted 21May2019