Dagmoor followed Teagj out of the Thinghall, the ancient meeting-place of all Antler-clans. Taegj was silent as he walked confidently through the bustling mudpaths between the hodgepodge of fur tents and thatched huts.

It was a well-organized camp hosting near enough six thousand Free Folk. More than the Antlermen, Hornfoots and even a group of southern Nightrunners intermingled in the clearings between shelters. The breeze brought the scents of roasting meats and simmering stews to Dagmoor's nose from the myriad cooktents.

His stomach grumbled hungrily.

"Taegj, gonna grab a bowl of something hot. Want anything?" He offered.

The bigger man gave Dagmoor a nod, eyeing a nearby group of bootless Hornfoots around a spit and licking his lips. "Aye, see if there's any elk skewers, will you?" Taking a set of pipes from his pocket, he handed them to Dagmoor.

"Sure thing." He said, taking the instrument. Turning aside, Dagmoor walked up to the Hornfoots while Teagj continued on his way. "Ho, any room at your fires for another?" He asked loudly as he approached.

The Hornfoots looked over at him. After eyeing his dress, a fine set of travel-leathers from the stocks back at First Fork, a graying woman gave him a wave over.

"You're one of those Forkers, yeah?" She asked him, making room near the fire for him.

"Sure am," Dagmoor replied proudly, tapping the maker's mark on his left shoulder. Stamped into the leather was the outline of a pair of small bird's wings overlaying a circle split by a sinuous line.

One man, clearly not a Hornfoot by his well-cared boots, leaned closer to get a better look. "Is that a stamp?"

Dagmoor half-nodded, shrugging. "I don't know for sure, our Dove made them."

The man looked closer, "Looks more like a pair of egret's wings to me." He stuck out an open hand, "Name's Able. If you're heading back soon, might be I'd like to join, if there's no problem."

Dagmoor took his arm with a firm grip, gladdened that he didn't need to repeat the whole performance of 'Come to First Fork, we gather to move south.' He'd heard Mance Rayder would do something similar, offering a way out to the clans and tribes he'd visit. Seemed a tried-and-true method, in Dagmoor's opinion.

"Dagmoor." He released Able's arm, "Anyone who wants to come is welcome to join. We'll be leaving on the morrow."

The Hornfoot woman shrugged, "The meet is almost over, might as well. Our tribe will follow in time." The others nodded seriously.

Dagmoor caught the flicker of a sympathetic grimace on Able's face before the man turned away and popped a chunk of spicy-smelling meat into his mouth.

"Anyway, I'll trade for some of those skewers you've got there." Dagmoor gestured at the fire, pulling out the pipes Teagj gave him. The graying woman took the instrument, gave it a few test blows and nodded approvingly before inspecting them in more detail.

"Nice," She offered, "Yeah, take as much meat as you want for these." Another Hornfoot grumbled under his breath, only to receive a sharp "This ain't about food" from the elder.

Dagmoor gathered up a few skewers with a thankful nod, setting off to meet back with Teagj. Able, surprisingly, tagged along.

"So," Shrewd brown eyes framed by graying brown hair studied Dagmoor, "How is First Fork these days? Ebbo find a wife yet?"

Dagmoor cocked his head at the slender man, "I don't recognize you. Why do you want to know?"

Able shrugged, "Friend of mine's sister's son and daughter are growing there. Figured I'd ask. Ebbo and Ygdis, they are."

"Ygdis is well enough," Dagmoor said slowly, "Ebbo is dead, three years gone. The Antler took him."

The other man shook his head sadly, "I'm terribly sorry to hear that. Ygdis is well, you said? I'll be glad enough to pass that along."

They came upon the small First Forker encampment at the edge of the gathering grounds, Dagmoor nodding to his friends.

"Mind if I hang around?" Able asked politely, drawing a long flute from his satchel. "I'm accounted a fair player."

Dagmoor shrugged, "Do what you want." He left the other man to his own devices, heading over to Teagj's tent and heading in. The Chief was reclining on a few bartered pelts, smoking pipe in hand.

"Hot meat," Dagmoor said perfunctorily, handing Taegj a couple of the skewers.

"Took you long enough," he said with mock affront. Taking a bite of the meat and chewing gratefully, he nodded with satisfaction. "Thank you."

"Any time." Dagmoor sat, taking a chunk from his own skewer. The meat had a delightful tang to it, a touch of juniper berry balancing out the biting spices rubbed in. "Fuck me sideways, I'll be glad to have Hornfoots around again."

Teagj nodded in clear agreement. "Figure Uven and his people are probably at First Fork by now. It's that time of year and we're the only village left south of the Antler now that Ellir's with us."

Dagmoor nodded, "Nowhere else to trade, yeah, makes sense. It'll be good to get back."

Nodding, Teagj took another bite, chewing slowly. "The moot is too small this year, the Antler-King won't listen to us, and the Others have already come for us once." Somberly, "I don't know if there will be another chance next year. I just hope that Mance was able to convince some of those that aren't here."

"Hornfoots listen to us," Dagmoor offered, "And people listen when they speak. The ones I bartered this meat with, they're already decided."

Teagj perked up, "They have? That's… Yeah, Dag, that is good." Nodding, "Once we get back, I'll talk to Uven. His people know how to speak to anyone, even those cave-fuckers."

From outside the tent, a flute sounded. Dagmoor took a few more bites of food to warm his belly, "I met a strange fellow calling himself Able. He asked after Ebbo and Ygdis. Thing is, he's not Antler."

Teagj looked at him, surprised. "Huh. What's he look like?"

"Slender and not quite as tall as we. He had long brown hair gone mostly gray, and he's got keen brown eyes." Dagmoor offered.

Teagj shook his head, "Nah, not who I was thinking. Edwen had a brother who went off to join Mance before she brought her kids, but you never knew her that well. Eadger was taller than I am, and touched by fire besides."

Dagmoor nodded, "Well, the fellow wanted to come with us when we head back. He's outside if you wanted to talk to him."

A gleam entered Teagj's eye, "Bring him, then."

Standing, Dagmoor poked his head out of the tent. Able was sitting near a fire with a few of Ellir's people, playing a lilting song as they clapped along and sung bawdily. "Oi! Able! Chief wants to talk with you!"

The man nodded at him without missing a beat, standing and wrapping up the song with a flourish and a bow to the grumbling audience. "Thank you for the music. Next time, I'll show you a Thennish dirge, see what you make of that." He offered to the group with a wink, receiving a pat on the back as he turned and headed toward the tent.

Able ducked inside, Dagmoor moving over to make room for him. Sitting, he carefully put his flute away, nodding to Teagj. "Chief, yeah? Are you Teagj, by any chance?"

Teagj nodded, "And you're Able. So, what's this I hear about you asking after my people?" The man sounded amiable enough, putting just enough heat into his tone to make it sound almost an accusation.

Raising his hands in a gesture of peace, Able nodded at Dagmoor. "I'll tell you the same I told him, a friend of mine's sister's family is at First Fork. I've not been to these lands yet, I apologize if I've offended your people."

"What's your friend's name, then?" Teagj prodded.

"Eadger, well, Eadger One-Arm now." Gesturing with his left arm, Able continued, "He lost it in a rockfall. He's alive last I saw him, well enough with the rest of Mance's camp."

Teagj relaxed, offering the man a still-steaming skewer. "Aye, I'm Teagj. Well met, Able, friend of my friend. You're welcome among us."

The words were more suited to welcoming old friends to First Fork, but it worked well enough, Dagmoor supposed.

Able took the skewer gladly, immediately popping a chunk of meat into his mouth and chewing quickly. As soon as he swallowed, he spoke. "Thank you, Chief Teagj, friend of my friend. Your welcome warms my tired spirit."

Everyone in the tent relaxed once the ritual was finished. "So, you've a Queen, I hear?" Able asked them.

"We've only been shouting it at anyone who'd listen," Teagj grumbled good-naturedly, "Yeah. Her name's Maia, from some far-off land."

Able studied the two of them, finally asking Teagj, "You don't have a problem with that?"

Teagj chuckled, a deep belly-laugh that rumbled within the tent. "Problem? I helped choose her. I don't want the title anyway. Anyone dumb enough to call themselves King-Beyond-the-Wall in these times either has what it takes, or they don't. Look at everyone Mance has taken out."

Able nodded seriously, "Aye, five Kings and a Queen. So, you think Maia has it, then?"

Nodding seriously, "We can't kill her. Slavers have already tried. I watched her take a bolt through the heart," He tapped his chest, "And she just kept walking until the shaft fell out. Fuck, I had three of 'em in me, only reason I'm here is because she healed me."

Able's eyes widened, "How can that be?"

Dagmoor spoke into the ensuing quiet, "She's a woods witch, and one with real power. This is not some woman tossing powder into a flame to tell prophecy, she does things. She built us a true Lodge."

"Aye," Teagj added with utter confidence, "With our help, we did it in an afternoon."

The brown-eyed man whistled lowly. "I think I might like to meet this Queen of yours. She sounds a good woman to know."

"Made our weapons, too." Teagj pulled out a small knife sheathed in ornately carved wood, handing it over to Able. "Don't know how she can make a wood blade that acts like metal, but she did."

Able unsheathed the hand-length blade, studying the intricate details of the carvings. They were all curving lines forming an overall impression of vines and leaves wrapped around the sheathe and hilt, like black threads tied into the wood. He paid special attention to the maker's mark on the bottom of the hilt, "What does this mean?"

Dagmoor and Teagj both shrugged. "Means something to her, and it's on her sword. It's probably something like southern house rune." Dagmoor offered.

"A sword?" Able asked innocently.

Teagj nodded, "Aye, a slightly curved blade as long as I am tall. Looks fucking funny when she wears it at her waist, she's about this tall herself." He raised a hand up, marking about her height from the pelt rug.

"How does she get around?" Able asked in good humor, "Sounds a bit too much for any man. Ah, but who am I to question the ways of women?" He took a second bite from his skewer, chewing slowly.

"She makes it work," Dagmoor said. "I've held the sword and I have to say, it's oddly warm to the touch and comforting like a clay bowl of hot stew while sheltering from a low-sun blizzard. Never felt the like before."

Able looked sharply at him, studying Dagmoors features intensely for a moment before swallowing his food. "Do you know where she got it?"

Dagmoor frowned, shaking his head. "No. She came with it, and she's said nothing more about it."

Teagj sighed. "Enough talk about her, you'll meet her soon enough. Tell me, where are you traveling from, Able? You've the look of a Nightrunner, but dress like a mountain clansman, and you've the speech of the South on your tongue."

The man nodded, reclining and visibly relaxing. "Oh, I was born in the lands of the Nightrunners, but my family killed by the Watch and I stolen. Needless to say, I found my way to freedom, and I've found more brothers and sisters among our people than any Crow will ever know."

Dagmoor nodded sympathetically. The man must have just been a babe when they stole him, but the Watch clearly couldn't keep him. "Well, you're welcome enough among us. I know the Nightrunners don't like flown crows, but you've flown free and that's what matters."

Able gave him a thankful nod, "I appreciate that more than I suspect you'll ever know. Not all are so kind to my kin."

"You'd like to meet Symon, I suppose." Teagj said, "Another flown crow. He was a builder."

Able shook his head, "I've not heard of him. I was a Ranger and spent most my life in the True North. I'll never pass up good conversation," he waggled the skewer, "Or good food. Well, you've told me what I've asked, how about I tell you the tale of how I found an ancient Godswood and met kindly giants that tended the forest."

Teagj nodded, passing the man a waterskin that was gratefully accepted. Able drank to wet his throat, then launched into a most peculiar story.

The three men whiled away the evening in each other's company. The next morning, near enough five hundred people gathered at the edge of the Antlersmoot. By mid-morning, they had prepared enough to set off downriver, heading to the sanctuary promised by Teagj.