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The Heartwood
Waverider’s Watch
The Dirkwood Forest, One Day East of Waverider’s Watch
Marketday, the Fourth Day of Yrick

Pietro and Lyric

Now that was interesting.

For Petro and Djinni, the ride lately had been quiet. They had been told a few farmhouses back that this was indeed a trail that he was on, but that it was a Rhoni trail, one that ran towards sunset only a crossbow shot away from the Dirkwood Forest.

Indeed, the Forest cast such a dark shadow he could understand why only the mainland’s most experienced wanderers traveled this way. It was secluded, almost secret, and if one were not used to open fields, wolf howls and the yowling of slinks, one would probably swear off traveling. That and the Dirkwood had a palatable pall. It just felt dark, angry and hungry.

Djinni just whuffled; she was a quiet mare, rock steady. She wasn’t even really fierce for a destrier. But as one of the older Knights used to say, “...mare, stallion, gelding, it doesn’t matter. The best destrier is the one with the one that works best with you and is not afraid to fight.”

And he and Djinni were a team.

The last few days had been different, however.

He knew he should be getting close to the sea; he had traveled enough days that there could not be too many left at all. There were even times he could have sworn he tasted salt in the air.

The farmers, they had been telling an odd story over a shared meal, one heard from their neighbors, which placed it about a day south. The story said that a large number of horsemen were also riding to the west. But he had not seen any sign of them; probably because they were – if they actually existed – a day to the south. Out here, that probably meant Jvrillians; but beholden to who? Not the Kories. Yes, they did hire mercenaries, but they served in the city – the whole purpose of the manor system was to provide non-mercenary footmen and Knights to serve the Noble Lords.

Especially since these lands, technically, belonged to the youngest of them. And he did not seem to be the type to hire folks out. His allowance probably wasn’t that big.

But that wasn’t what had intrigued him this afternoon.

It was that he wasn’t alone on the trail.

He had just topped a small hill... which wasn’t odd at all. The fields in this area not only had lots of hills, but scattered bits of trees, large rocks from foot to house side, and many small creeks and little streams. Topping the hill, he was looking down on another traveler.

This one was walking all alone on the path ahead of him and seemed to be heading in the same direction.

And that person had noticed him.

Lyric had been walking these fields for several rising and settings of the sun. Lyric’s own travels were but recently begun. Task set, walking from home to here, and finding mostly nothing. The sun was nicely warm, which was a comfort, and the weather had been pleasant, which was also new. But it did nothing to aid in the completion, let alone the very start, of a journey.

So when of the first person seen was a man upon a horse, definitely armored, looking down from the top of the hill...

...well it was definitely a first.

This was definitely a more interesting discovery than the horse tracks that had been seen a day past and a day south.

So far, one looking up, one looking down... and no one had drawn steel or tried to kill each other.

In its own way, another first.

Lyric

The brown haired girl would appear to be of little threat to escape. She was on foot, with a rucksack style of pack nearby her there at the edge of the road. She herself stood a few feet away from it just off the road on the grassy embankment. She was holding a scratch of gathered flowers in her hands. An assortment of blossoms and their leafy stems and she sniffed them as she looked up that last hill she had only just recently walked, at him. There was no horse anywhere near her, nor had there been any evidence along the trail the shiny knight had ridden this day...

And so, the chance she might escape an armored knight astride of warhorse was nigh on unlikely, if not impossible. She certainly didn't seem inclined to try either it seemed, for when her eyes lit upon something nearby to her, too far away for the knight himself to see clearly at his distance, she turned her attention from him and stepped through the obscuring tall grasses to investigate.

Turning her attention away from the knight on the hill indeed. The girl beamed at the newest find. Taking up the thin fabrics of her light tunic so she could step through the grasses to get where she now needed to be, she moved several steps further along the embankment and down a little farther from the road itself. She knelt for a moment, mostly obscured in the grasses, but it didn't last long.

More flowers. Her scratch had definitely become more like two handfuls worth of blossoms. She smelled them again and her shoulders fell a little, perhaps relaxed, in the contentment.

She looked back up the hill she had recently walked... and she smiled at the shiny knight, on a horse, upon a hill.

And why not?

It was Yrick, and Harvest Season brought out the last blooming of the wildflowers. She was warm, and that made her warm as well, and the air was a breeze of scents, and the flowers' fragrance was intoxicating.

The shiny knight, on a horse, upon a hill, his intentions as unclear as his purpose upon the trail, was not now... now was where she stood. The shiny man was then, and when he came down the hill, as he was almost certain to do, because this was the path and he was on and the direction he travelled, then he would be here in the now. But now was now and then was then, one becomes the next but never do they meet. There is always another now.

Until then became now she would enjoy her flowers.

That might make a very nice song...

Pietro


Reaching forward to pat his mounts neck caused a slight bell-like tinkle from the ornament - a darksteel wagon wheel - hanging from a silver chain around his neck. Pietro lifted it briefly and spun it, enjoying the slight sounds it made but not necessarily cheered by the thoughts and memories it brought to him. He dropped the pendant and clapped his horse on the neck.

"You don't remember your dam any more than I remember my mother, do you, Djinni, my friend."

When he'd patted Djinni's neck, he noticed that the red horse mark with the two gold stripes was nearly worn away. He thought briefly that he might not freshen the horsemark any time soon; while the mare pretty much ignored it once it had dried, she did so hate having it applied.

Besides, the red and gold emblem was repeated on the small guidon at the end of his lance and then again, in a way, on his small buckler shield, a round steel target painted red with two concentric gold circles around its rim. That was enough to let anyone know of his fealty to Lord Rames even if his demeanor did not do so.

Pietro adjusted the handaxe hanging from the right side of his belt and the shortsword on his left as he and Djinni crested the small hill and then stopped.

There was a woman down below on the trail, a young woman walking and, yes, gathering flowers. She looked up at him and seemed to smile but she was yet a long way off and he could not be entirely sure of her expression. The squire looked around, saw no horse, no companions, and the smile which had started to appear in response to hers froze. He looked around again to make sure there were no imminent threats to the young lady, saw none, relaxed and lifted a hand in greeting.

Pietro leaned forward and the mare, understanding, resumed her measured pace along the path and down the hill toward the young woman. Pietro smiled as they approached her, pulled Djinni to a halt and dismounted in one smooth movement.

Somehow he did not want to be looking down at her.

"I greet you in the name of Lord Rames," he said with a smile.

"It appears to be a fine day for the gathering of blossoms."

Lyric

While it was not a truly a road, the path itself might as well have been for it was really the only sign of civilization in these parts. And, as paths go, this might as well be a road, for whoever trod the earth to still the growth of grasses over time, had understood that higher ground, although winding along the contours of the terrain, would endure the encroachment of the grasses and the passage of time between the treks made by the path-treaders better than a mostly direct route.

The looming Dirkwood was altogether too close for the comfort of most, but the girl seemed oblivious in her carefree contentment. If one could throw a stone very far, or perhaps fire a crossbow bolt then one might have a fair chance to hit a tree at the edge of the dark and oppressive wood. That was how close it was to the path.

The shiny knight, on a horse, upon a hill was no longer on the hill as he rode closer and closer and was once then but that became now. She still lacked worry or concern for either her circumstance or his the shiny knight's approach.

She watched as the shiny knight, in a clatter of clanging metal dropped from the horse more gracefully than she assumed he might be able given the extra weight he carried.

Lyric shifted her focus to the knight's horse, her own eyes soft, trying to meet those of the warhorse. The animal was so very pretty. But her attention was drawn back to the man as he announced himself in a formal greeting. He upon the path, her a few feet down the grassy embankment, she affected a bow of sorts... perhaps even courtly, after a fashion.

"My Lord," she replied with deference and courtesy. Her accent was that of the High Tarn. "Forgive me, I must seem terribly awkward, for I did not recognize one such as yourself, of such stature and prestige to be named after a God, would wander the same path as I this chase of She across the sky."

She kept the slight bow and offered both handfuls of flowers out to him. "If you wish them, you may have them M'Lord."

Pietro


She was lovely and seemed the very essence of innocence and amity and he wondered how she had managed to appear here alone, so far away from home and hearth.

He held up a hand in a slight forestalling, or correcting, gesture.

"Oh, I am not a lord, milady, and neither am I named for Lord Rames. That would be a terrible presumption on my or my parent's part."

He smiled and glanced up at the sun as She crossed the sky.

"I am merely a squire dedicated to the service of Lord Rames the Protector. My name is Pietro."

He decided this occasion deserved a bit more formality.

"Pietro Keir Hansson, late of Talantal." He noticed her attention to his mount.

"And this is Djinni, my friend."

Pietro leaned forward and smelled the flowers when she presented them to him. He smiled and selected one of the flowers, a red one, of course, and tucked its stem under the edge of his chain hauberk.

"Perhaps just one."

Lyric

Of all the things he said, by way of a proper introduction and one she now understood more clearly, his mention of the horse's name and relationship was the first thing she responded to.

"Yes... she is," the girl replied, again looking at the horse. It was a confident reply at that, as if she were stating a fact she could perceive.

She nodded again as he took his choice of flowers and tucked it into the shirt of woven metal links.

"I am called Lyric," she added as she looked at the flower... a symbol of peace atop that of war. It looked as though she might get lost in thought staring at the single red flower. She was certainly in no hurry.

Pietro


Lyric... what an odd name... he thought.

"Lyric... what an... interesting name. Are you then a singer of songs?"

Pietro stepped back and reached into a coarse jute bag hanging from the mare's saddle and pulled out three small apples.

"Would you like an apple?" he asked Lyric as he held one out for Djinni to take.

"They are not the prettiest, not like shiny Winelace or Westkeeps, but they are firm and tart and..." he grinned, "sweet and juicy."

"They are called Sugar Crisps and Djinni and I like them."





<< editied to Heartwood-ize the apple types; Winelace from Highgaard and Westkeeps from the lands about Sherman's Keep >>

Lyric

"I am," she stated without hesitation. The accompanying nod of her head and widening eyes matched her smile. "A singer of songs, yes."

She watched him reach for a bag hung from his friend's saddle, and she took another deep sniff of her remaining flowers, the fragrance giving her a visible sense of happy contentment. But all of that stopped the moment he withdrew the three pieces of fruit. She looked at Pietro of the Many Names, and then the fruit and back to him. She offered an eager nod.

"You are very kind to ask."

She could feel the saliva in her mouth building and she swallowed. There was a hopeful anticipation as he shifted all the flowers to one hand, but didn't dare extend the now empty one. He hadn't actually offered her the fruit, but rather just asked her if she would like one of them, and it would be rude to be presumptuous of the Knight's abundance of provisions that he set aside for himself and his friend. She watched as he offered one to Djinni and her smile widened at the interaction between them. But it was the hope that she hadn't misread the Knight and that he would offer one to her as well that dominated her thoughts in the now.

Pietro


The squire looked at the apples in his hand and, after a moment, nodded slightly and, selecting the one with the fewer blemishes, extended it toward her.

"I hope you like it as much as we do."

Pietro took a bite of the one in his other hand and chewed it happily as the juices burst from its ruptured flesh and filled his mouth.

Lyric

"...very generous as well," she added softly with yet another nod. She allowed him to drop the apple into her hand as that seemed most appropriate and sensible given their respective stations. He a Knight of Lord Rames and she... not.

Lyric drew the apple close to her face and she smelled it deeply. Her eyes closed, the inhalation was protracted, as if she were trying to extract every bit of scent from the skin of the apple itself.

Her eyes fluttered open briefly, her smile ever widening until it seemed her face couldn't possibly contain the joy she expressed. Following suit, she too bit into the apple, allowing her teeth to rend the crisp skin and tear into the meaty, fibrous meat of the apple. Immediately her eyes closed again as she was awash in the taste and texture and smell that flooded her. If Pietro were a worldly man, and there was no presumption made in the telling of this either way, then he might recognize that her current impassioned expression, with eyes closed, combined to the soft shudder and shiver he might witness, was something quite akin to an orgasm. Despite the indelicacy of the appearance of such she certainly seemed oblivious to him now as the fruit-born sensations kept her in a state of rapture as she started to chew.

Pietro

Well, there was hardly a doubt that she was enjoying the apple, In fact her reaction was almost... well, embarrassing was the only word for it. Pietro blinked several times, swallowed and cleared his throat.

"Well, uh... glad you like it," he said, his voice just slightly hoarse.

Again Pietro looked around the area, gauging their surroundings as had become a habit to him, for any possible threats. He frowned slightly as he looked at Lyric.

The one question that kept echoing in his head was an obvious one, but he was not sure how exactly to ask it, how she might react. He did not want to upset her and she was... well, she seemed a bit odd.

Nice, but odd.

"Uh... Lyric," he said and paused briefly.

"Are you waiting for someone? You're not out here all alone, are you?"

Lyric

If there was anything that Lyric could claim to be an expert at, then it might be the fact that she could read an audience by the very sounds they made, from their breathing and heart rates, the nervous non-verbal cues, throat clearing, to the changes in their vocal intonations, in pitch and tenor.

She opened her eyes, halting her next bite of the apple, red lips wrapping the fruit as she looked wide-eyed at her benefactor.

Slowly, sensing a misstep in etiquette, she pulled the fruit away from her mouth. The bite marks all but revealing the second advance through the apple's skin.

She thought to wipe her mouth upon her sleeve, but even where she came from that would be quite rude. But, allowing the juice to roll like a dribble from her lips to her chin felt just as unseemly. So she settled for a quick lick of her lips before speaking again.

"Yes, thank you so much. It... is... wondrous."

She glanced at the apple, remembering her place, and made a mental vow to keep her exuberance in check... or to at least try harder.

"No, kind Ser."

When she couldn't resist the tickle on her chin, she wiped the droplet forming there with the heel of the hand that held the apple whilst masking the effort with the flowers from the other. It was awkward at best.

"I am not waiting on any one. Though I will admit when I saw you crest the hill, I did wait... It would have been rude to ignore you. And so, now that you are here with me in the now, I am not alone."

Pietro


Yes, definitely odd... still nice, but she seemed almost... Pietro searched for words which would describe something - someone - new to him.

She seemed almost ethereal, almost as if she only partially inhabited what Pietro considered the real world. She was definitely one worthy of his protection, however.

While he considered all this, Pietro reached into his saddlebag, rummaged around a bit and came out with a slightly rumpled, but clean linen handkerchief which he extended toward her.

"Here, try this," he said, smiling.

"It is nice to be... not alone, to have company," Pietro said, trying to lead the conversation in another direction.

"And, since we seem to be headed in the same direction, would you like rest yourself upon Djinni's back - I assure you, she would be a gentle ride - while I walk and stretch my legs?"

Lyric

She blushed when he present the crumpled kerchief to her, but she accepted with a curt nod, her eyes slightly averted.

"A Gift. I will cherish it."

His offer to allow her to ride atop Djinni was yet another kindness and an unexpected one at that. She demurred and shook her head in the negative.

"I have nothing to offer you in return, and, for my part, it is not custom to be beholden or indebted to another's kindness and grace without the hope of returning the same in greater measure. And you have been generous beyond my measure and worth. So please do not be upset. I mean no disrespect or dishonor."

Her pause was just a moment though. Enough for her to make that last step up from the grasses back onto the path.

"But if you would allow me to travel alongside you as we find out where this trail will lead us both, then I might earn the keeping of your generosity. And I might learn that there is something of value that I can offer to you along the way in the now."

She seemed pleased by this self-negotiated arrangement so much that she she smiled and exhaled deeply with a final nod.

"And since I too like to... stretch my legs... the three of us could walk together."

Pietro


He had not meant for the handkerchief to be a gift, more a loan of sorts but he was loathe to correct her. Besides it was a small thing and she seemed to derive pleasure from it.

"Then we shall all three stretch our legs as we enjoy Her warmth, Lyric," he said.

Pietro reached down, picked up the young woman's rucksack and hung it from the cantle of Djinni's saddle.

"Since she will be carrying neither of us, I am sure Djinni will not mind carrying your rucksack, Lyric. I doubt she'll even notice the weight."

He started off walking, following the path they stood upon, turning his head to make sure she was following him.

"Perhaps you could do me a favor, Lyric," he said after a few moments.

"Do you write your own songs?"

Lyric

Her rucksack was laden with a number of things, not the least of it were the sundries of her crockery cup and such things but also to include the weight of several sets of tunics, both over and under. There was a tartan cloak of fine quality, and a finer looking formal garment judging by the glimpse of the material. But more importantly and possibly quite notably, there were pieces of leather armor, leather breeches and boots. And there was the hilt of sheathed dagger as well.

She herself was not particularly tall though she carried herself with her head high and bright eyes. The tunics she wore currently seemed to be of a summer weight fabric in a couple layers, over an under tunic. She was unarmed and seemingly unconcerned by that fact as well. she wore simple leather shoes meant more for cobbled streets than the open and dusty road.

The one thing she did do was untether an oilskin tarp that had been wrapped around a bowl shaped object with a neck and then tied at both ends by the same strap of fabric. She slipped that over her back. No doubt it was an instrument of some sort, possibly a mandolin by the shape of it.

With this man taking charge of her belongings, leaving her to carry her flowers and the apple and now a kerchief she skipped a couple steps to catch up to him.

"I make my own music if that is what you mean. I ... don't read or write Colonial. But I have a very good memory for things I hear. And I remember everything I have made of my own."

Pietro


"Djinni and I will be very careful of your belongings, Lyric," he said, doing his best to reassure the young woman. He held up one hand.

"You have my oath as one dedicated to Rames the Protector."

He watched with interest as she slung the oilskin wrapped instrument (?) upon her back and skipped to catch up with him. He shortened his steps to match hers, but not that much as he was not a very tall man, perhaps five and a half feet.

"I am neither poet nor singer, but I have tried over the last few days to compose a poem of sorts. Two lines came to me, perhaps in a dream, lines that I meant something to me, but since then, I have worried over it repeatedly, but cannot come up with even the rest of one verse."

He looked to his side and slightly downward toward her and smiled.

"Perhaps you could help me... it would be a goodness."

Pietro's smile widened slightly.

"Would you like to hear what I have so far?"

Lyric

"I accept your oath," she said solemnly, giving it the same respect as it was offered. A part of her wished he hadn't but, it was offered and accepted now and that was the way of things.

She smiled, trying to think on other things and the knight was obliging to that end as well.

"I most assuredly would want hear these words of poetry... and I hope I can help."

Pietro


"And then you would have repaid what I do not consider a debt," he said with a smile. He thought for a moment, then cleared his throat and intoned.

"I slept and saw that life was beauty,
Awoke and knew that life was duty."

Pietro grimaced slightly. Now that he'd said it to someone else, it seemed... small and insignificant and he wished he'd kept it to himself. He glanced at her apprehensively, certain that she would criticize his effort.

Or not... he thought after a moment. She seemed too nice for derision or criticism, but he did not really know her yet.

Lyric

She listened as she walked, and then after she repeated this couplet to herself, over and over. She considered the man walking beside her, and how committed he was to his Duty. He wore his armor in the high heat of Her presence above them, despite the many hours he had likely already passed without incident upon this trail. She knew it was likely without incident because it had been so for her and her rode behind her Then until Now. And if it had been otherwise he would have mentioned it in his sense of Duty to Protect others.

He was a man who balanced the Now against the What Might Be and found the What Might Be to have a clearer weight upon his core sense of self.

Thus, these were fitting words from him. And yet...

"The words are..." She thought hard for a word, "...evocative. Do you feel this way, Ser Pietro?"

Pietro


"Yes..." he said, drawing out the one word and then pausing briefly.

"And no... I do take my duty seriously, Lyric."

Pietro smiled almost sadly.

"In many ways, as I say in those lines, my duty is my life, but..." again he paused as if searching within himself for something which was truth.

"Sometimes I wish there was more time to appreciate... beauty."

Lyric

She nodded and was quiet for a time, and then some more beyond that. But it looked as though she was thinking, perhaps even dreaming in the awake a bit.

"I can not give you an answer to what it means, and that is what you really need... To understand the nature of this struggle between two things very important to you. Only you can do that for yourself. But that is the nature of true art. Be it music or poetry, or even a physical art itself. It must tell someone something about your heart and your soul. But to you it must express this first before anyone else can see it or hear and thus feel it."

Lyric closed her eyes as she walked now, her footfalls as sure as if her eyes were open.

"From a purely technical sense... you have written a couplet and those usually make up shorter poems. Couplets become whimsical and rhythmic by their very nature. Beyond 3 or 4 couplets they will lose their poignancy to move the listener or reader."

She didn't pause for long.

"I can not write the next lines for you, but I can give you something to think about and mayhap that will help you find the voice for the words that I already know are inside of you."

She took a bite of her apple and chewed on that as she walked along quietly. Hers was a pace that followed his and yet had an entirely different sense of urgency.

"Two more couplets... thus a beginning, a middle, and an end... You have framed your dilemma... You dream you can live in a world of beauty, and wake to find a world that is something else. So now you must ask yourself.... are these worlds not the same, if only you look at that which you love and see it for what it could be? And in doing that, might you not find the peace to realize the world of beauty is every where that you are right now, in being who you are?

Pietro


Much of what she said was nearly meaningless to him, went right over his head as his brother, Ataulf, had been wont to say, but her words sounded right and, even if he did not - or did not yet - understand them, they found a soothing spot in his oft troubled mind.

It occurred to him that, in the short space of time since he'd met the young songstress, he'd opened himself up and revealed himself more... well, nakedly, than he had since... well, since maybe ever. Pietro looked at her as she walked and ate her apple and his expression was one almost of wonder.

She might be odd, but she was easy to talk to and that, in itself, was refreshing.

"I will think upon your words, Miss Lyric," he said softly. "I do not entirely understand them, but I do believe they contain much in the way of truth."

Pietro took a deep breath, held it a long moment and then blew it out. He took another bite of his apple, chewed and swallowed it. Deciding he'd been philosophical long enough, he changed the subject.

"When you started out this morning, Miss Lyric, did you have a specific destination in mind?"

Lyric

He would uncover less in the thinking on her words than in the sleeping on them, after all, that was how the first words were joined to give him the clarity that he needed to find solace in this duality. Sleep, maybe several, would ease the barriers he imposed upon himself and the words would reveal themselves in due time.

"If you are asking if I had a purpose then Yes, I did and it was the same as was the morning before, and even the one before that."

She pointed ahead of her, along the path the three of them walked. "I was going this way," she stated with conviction.

A few more steps.

"But if you mean, did I have a plan... then No. I have no idea what lies ahead of me at the end of this day or the next. That is less important to me than the journey I take along the way. Thus I am never dissatisfied with where I am."

She lifted her flowers to her face to smell them again and she was reminded of the joy she experienced in finding them, plucking them, and even smelling them that very first time.

"And If I was more concerned with where I was going to be, then I might not have paused to see where I was, and maybe we would not be as WE are... in the Now."

Pietro


"Then I am going that way, too," he said and pointed in the same direction. He'd made no concrete decision but he could not imagine leaving her out here alone.

"A purpose or a plan." Pietro shrugged. "Or a destination."

He smiled and after a moment the smile warped into a rather crooked grin.

"Leads sometimes to a meeting, a friendly celebration."

Pietro laughed happily, clapped his hands and, behind him, Djinni snorted, perhaps derisively.

"Always a critic," he said looking back at the mare and then over at Lyric.

"But, awkward or not, I did it and I liked it."

Lyric

"And that is oft times all we have at the end of any day... to say we have enjoyed what we have done... even when we have nothing else to show for it."

She did not offer critique or commentary and didn't even wince at his rhyming bit of whimsy. He was pleased and feeling more relaxed and that made him more enjoyable company than the tense servant of the Lord Protector.

She glanced at Djinni and then to Pietro, with a smile she ceded this, "There will always be critics though... treat them all as... Neigh-sayers."

It almost pained her to play the homophonic pun and stretch that first part of the last word out until sounded like a horse, but it certainly seemed the appropriate continuation to a bad joke already begun.

Pietro


He frowned in puzzlement for just a moment but then guffawed.

"Miss Lyric," he said when his mirth had subsided, "that was just about the worst yet most appropriate pun I have heard since I left Talantal near eight years ago."

Pietro glanced over his shoulder and waggled a finger at Djinni.

"See there? You should keep your opinions to yourself, girl, unless they are about merebeasts or bouncers."

The squire chuckled again, almost automatically turning to scan the horizon for anything out of the ordinary. Reassured, he turned back to Lyric, recalling something he'd heard her say earlier.

"So, Miss Singer of Songs and maker of bad puns, how many days have you been on this... expedition?"

Lyric

She sighed and shrugged.

"The maker of one pun, and I already regret it. Puns and limericks are the last refuge of the untalented, or so I have been taught. I fear my career as a minstrel on the Heartwood is all but over before it even began."

There was a hint of lingering smile though.

But, she didn't answer that last question for a number of steps.

"How long does it take to get here, wherever we are, from the High Tarn?"

Pietro


He smiled at her and considered her question.

"As long as it takes, I suppose. It depends on how many distractions present themselves along the way."

His smile widened.

"How many flowers there are to pick and how many foolish squires you come upon."

Lyric

"I have yet to meet one of those foolish squires you mention..."

She walked along, and smiled, mostly to herself.

"But She has not set yet, this day is still young, and anything is possible."

A final bite of her apple would prevent any further follow-up for a minute or so.

Pietro


"Ah, milady is too kind," he said and made a sweeping, only a little, sardonic bow.

"I had had my foolish moments."

Pietro looked up, squinting into Her rays and nodded.

"Perhaps you will be willing to share our evening meal when She settles in for the night." He gestured toward Djinni with a movement of his chin.

Another thought occurred to him.

"Have you seen sign of a sizeable group of riders lately?"

Lyric

"It seems you go from one meal to another, planning for the next in the in-between," she teased. As it was, She was high overhead and another meal was not likely for some time, nor was the likelihood of happening upon a town or a way-station and that meant keeping a close watch on the rations she had. He would be wise to do so as well, since he had to manage rations for two.

At the mention of a group of riders she shook her head, "I would ask how many you consider to be... 'sizeable', but the answer wouldn't matter. I have been on this path for several of Her passings overhead now and you are only other I have seen in all that time. And there have been no signs of anyone travelling this path ahead of us recently either."

Pietro


"I can think about eating whether I am hungry or not," he said with a smile for her as they walked along the path under Her warm rays.

"What I consider... sizeable is not necessarily the point, Miss Lyric. I was sharing a meal with some farmers two or maybe three days back and they said they'd seen signs of what they called a sizeable group of riders passing in roughly the same direction we are heading."

Pietro pointed southward.

"But probably some ways south of here from what I was told."

Lyric

Lyric walked along, closing her eyes and leaning her head back to bask in the warmth of the sun. She did this for a time and gave no reply. Sometimes she seemed very deliberate in the time it took her to reply to anything and other times, not so much.

Finally she did reply, but she still had her head back as she walked along, fingers trailing along the loose bridle of the warhorse as though it were a guide in her self-imposed blindness.

"I can not offer any more insight Ser Pietro. Though I doubt they would find this trail easy passage for any more than a few riders... if they were to have ever found it in the first place. Besides, we travel along the edge of the Dirkwood... Maybe that gave them pause and they sought a more travelled path to the west."

Pietro


"You could well be right," the squire said as he made one of his customary visual sweeps of the area, glancing back at Djinni to make sure she seemed relaxed as he did so. The mare served as a primary part of his... early warning system. If her ears were perked forward, something was happening.

"But you do not have to call me Ser Pietro. I am not a knight, just a squire." Pietro held up a hand.

"Not that I mind it. It is just an unnecessary politeness."

Lyric

As he spoke, she appeared to be 'done' with her 'sunbathing'.

"What is a squire," she asked almost immediately after he finished.

Pietro


He was surprised, if only a little, that she didn't know what a squire was. There was no real reason she should know, he decided, but it had just never occurred to him.

"A squire is... I supposed you could define a squire as a knight in training... an apprentice knight."

He smiled over and slightly down at her.

"I will remain a squire until I have been found worthy of knighthood."

Lyric

"And if I find you worthy of Knighthood, is that not sufficient?"

Before he could answer though, she she countered herself.

"Probably not, since I didn't even know what a squire was..."

"But, if not me... then who is responsible for taking the measure of your worth? And what makes them 'worthy' to do that?"

Pietro


Pietro looked faintly puzzled for just a second, but that expression was quickly replaced by a widening smile.

"I would appreciate your approval of my qualifications but, no, I do not think that would hold sufficient weight with the leaders of my church."

He thought for a long moment about how he could explain the situation in the Church of Lord Rames so that she would understand it. He made a soft sound halfway between laugh and snort.

Pietro wasn't sure he really understood it himself. He felt comfortable with his allegiance to the tenets of his deity, but the politics of the senior members of the church... that was complicated.

"The... senior knights, prelates and priests of the Church of Lord Rames make the ultimate decision... after seeking the counsel of Lord Rames himself, of course."

He decided to stop there for the moment. Regardless of the exact veracity of his statements, it... sounded good. Pietro shrugged mentally.

Maybe she would forget about that worthiness qualification.

He wished he could.

Lyric

"Aye, it sounds complicated," was her only reply for a time.

She was silent again for even longer before she added something else.

"Today is for uncomplicated things though... To journey and talk, maybe laugh a little, and enjoy being in the Now. When She has taken her leave of the sky, that we might take our leave of the trail... that is for uncomplicated things as well... Maybe song and music... a story or two... and of course SER Pietro, we will share a meal together if it is still your wish to do so."

Pietro


He nodded and, after a moment, the smile returned to his face.

"You are right. We have no need for unnecessary complications on such a fine day as we are getting to know each other."

Pietro took a few more steps, shrugged and continued.

"You mentioned laughing a little. Do you like jokes? In my travels, I have heard a few, some better than others."

Lyric

She turned her eyes to him and smiled, and with a nod she spoke, "Tell me a funny story then, laughter is always a pleasure to the spirit."

Pietro


"All right then," he said and thought over several options, jokes he'd heard in various eateries and taverns over the last few years. After rejecting several he considered too bawdy or suggestive, he cleared his throat and began.

"An Atteran, a Rhoni, and a Jvrillian were sitting in a tavern. Each of them had a fly land in their drink.

The Atteran saw the fly in her wine and was instantly disgusted and pushed her glass away.

The Rhoni saw the fly, removed it from his drink, shrugged his shoulders and continued drinking.

The Jvrillian saw the fly swimming around in his ale, grabbed it by the wings and shouted at the fly, "Spit it out! Spit it out!"

Halfway through the joke's telling, Pietro started thinking about Lyric's... well, oddities and had already begun to regret his offer so, once he'd completed the mini-saga, he gave her a sidewise glance to see how she reacted.

Lyric

She walked along for a few steps after the completion of the story. There was a slight smile on her lips and Pietro could see that Lyric was considering his story. Perhaps she was thinking about from the perspective of her profession. The smile grew though and she made a single shake of her head as though the bite of it finally revealed it's hook, and she nodded with a chuckle.

"I get it... That is very clever Pietro. You have a knack for timing too. I do think that somewhere in your telling, you were regretting your choice of stories... a small hesitation, but I am glad you continued. May I use this story myself?"

Pietro


The squire expelled a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

She liked it.

"I'm glad you liked it, Lyric. I was not sure you would... I thought you might take it as being... well, indelicately insulting to the people in the story."

He walked on a few more steps, feeling good about himself.

"I can tell jokes... I've never been able to make them up or at least usually, but I enjoy making people laugh."

Pietro made a small half-bow in her direction.

"You are welcome to its use, Miss Singer of Songs and Teller of Tales."

Lyric

"Thank you," she replied with a nod. "It is only fair that I ask. We might find a tavern somewhere along the way and you might be inclined to share your story with the other travellers, though I doubt there are any such places along this wisp of a trail, but you never know, right?"

It was obviously a rhetorical question. Of course she was right, that anything was possible, but probable? A way-station public house on an old Rhoni footpath?

"Now, as is only fair and fitting I will take a turn at the telling... This is true story. I come from a very small village, on the High Tarn, remote and rural, and there isn't much in the way of trade or commerce that finds its way to us. But once in a while, there comes a wanderer passing through to someplace.... else."

Pietro would hear her natural rhythm and her pacing. She spoke with ease, despite the awkward deep Tarn accent. In fact, it actually lent a certain charm and credence to her telling.

"Anyway, there was this one evening, when a tired man, weary of the road, obviously lost to be finding us, entered the public house. Now, let me tell you, this was an amazement to us for sure... for the usual custom were those of us who lived there and we all knew each other on sight. But this man was obviously a stranger. Kearns, the man who owned the public house and tended the bar and the kitchen, managed to settle his surprise and greeted the man as he entered, but he noticed the man had a Shadowcat under one arm. it was obvious the ShadowCat was not pleased but the stranger managed to keep a good grip on the little beasty. Such a thing was dangerous and Kearns was right to be a wee bit nervous but he was a publican by trade and craft and he did his job. He stifled his nerves and engaged the man in conversation. He said to him, 'I can't help but noticing that you are carrying a ShadowCat... Why is that?' The traveller looked at the man, and he looked at the ShadowCat, 'Well,' he said, 'It's simple... I got if for my wife.' Kearns considered this a moment, and he seemed to understand and he replied wistfully, 'I wish I could make a trade like that.'

And with that said the story was told. She didn't look for acknowledgement from Pietro, she didn't even react to her own story in the after. She just kept walking along, enjoying the day.

Pietro


He found himself rapidly drawn into the cadence of her storytelling and he listened avidly, nodding occasionally as one point or another was added.

When she finished, Pietro frowned and cocked his head sharply to one side, his eyebrows lowered in confusion. Then he snorted as the punch line sunk in and began to laugh.

"I like that one... a trade like that..." he continued chuckling for a moment.

He looked over and down at her for a long moment before continuing.

"And you said I told my joke well." He shook his head slowly.

"I admit I have met my master."

Lyric

She lowered her head in acceptance of his praise, but the real pleasure was seeing his reaction when he realized her play on words was delivered with a terse twisting of a phrase. A slugline, as she herself had been taught.

"Thank you for you kindness. But I must warn you... You may hear this story again, I fear, if our travels keep us entwined... As I have fairly warned you I must also say that I sometimes tell it differently. Maybe a Merebeast the next time you hear it..."

There was a pause again before Tarnan girl continued, "You did well for your first time before an audience you didn't already know... Like all things in your chosen profession, mine is no different, I practiced a long time before anyone told me I was worthy and the first time under pressure was no where near as good as yours. Have faith in yourself and in what you believe, Ser Pietro... Worthiness is not found in what you do, nor how well you do it... but rather in who you are. Succeed at that, and all the rest comes naturally."

Pietro


He smiled and nodded as he walked, contemplating her words and trying to apply them to his own history and experience.

"There is much truth in your words, Miss Lyric." He went back to adding the honorific to her name as she had persisted in calling him Ser Pietro.

"I have always felt a certain confidence or surety in myself..." he paused and grinned briefly.

"Even occasionally when it was not necessarily warranted, I try to remain true to my basic beliefs and ideals."

Pietro stopped, his eyes drawn to an unusual flower close by the path which they followed. The blossom was a bright red with gold flecks of color scattered on the petals. He stepped to the side of the path, bent and plucked the blossom and then showed it to her.

"Look, Miss Lyric," he said, holding the flower up toward the guidon attached to his lance in its boot on Djinni's saddle.

"It looks like a flower of Lord Rames." He handed the flower to her.

"Do you know by what name this flower is called?"

Lyric

She accepted the pretty flower but seemed a little startled, like hart caught in torchlight.

"I'm from the High Tarn, and the High Side at that," she reminded him. Lot's of rolling lands... and different flowers."

She offered it back to him.

"You found it so you get to name it," she suggested hopefully.

Pietro


"Oh you keep it, please," he said, holding out a hand in a forestalling gesture.

Pietro thought for a long moment, his mind roving over different places and sites he'd transited and seen over the last few years.

"It reminds me of a flower I saw along the borders of the Plains of Kaa which was called a poppy." He nodded decisively.

"So, until we hear different, that is what I intend to call it."

Lyric

"Then poppy it is... Pietro's Poppy."

She mused over that for a time, she didn't know how long, maybe not long at all.

"There might be song there... I don't know yet."

Pietro


"There is a certain amount of... I can't remember the term," he said, frowning briefly and then shrugging.

"When words start off with the same sound..."

[OOC: I know the term, but Pietro has probably only heard the word 'alliteration' once or twice in his life. ]

Lyric

Lyric looked at Pietro blankly, wide-eyed and possibly even expectant he would remember the word for which he was searching. This hopefully served to make it quite clear that if an educated Squire of Lord Rames the Protector didn't know a word such as alliteration then there was no way some girl from a backwater village on the High Tarn was going to know it either.

"It was just two words," she mewled in an overly dramatic fashion.

Pietro


"Yes, two words that, instead of rhyming, started with the same sound. There is a term for that, I think."

He smiled at her and made a gesture of negation.

"But it means nothing and less than nothing, Miss Lyric." He shrugged.

"Perhaps it will come to me later. I think I heard a bard, an entertainer, mention the word years back."

Pietro reached out toward her but stopped just short of touching her shoulder.

"If I remember it, I will tell you."

Lyric

And so it would go for the remainder of the hours spent chasing Her across the sky. Some more talking and a lot more walking. But it was always going to be a losing race for the three of them. They would never catch She.

And with She low on the horizon now, Lyric began to look for a suitable place to make camp. Along an old Rhoni footpath, dangerously close to the Dirkwood with night looming. But they had each made several camps alone on the journey that finally brought them together this day.

"Pietro," she said aloud. "It is time we consider resting for the night..."

"...even a meal if you can bring yourself to eat something," she added in a teasing tone.

Pietro


He enjoyed the exercise and the companionship as they traveled together along the Rhoni pathway.

"Perhaps I could scout the area with Djinni's help to find a good campsite. It would save time as she and I can move much faster than I can afoot."

He grinned at the singer of songs.

"And I feel sure I can force down at least a bite or two."

Pietro moved to mount his mare.

Lyric

She moved alongside the squire and his horse and nodded at her pack, non-verbally indicating that he should pass it back to her to carry for the time he was away.

Pietro


The squire nodded and handed her rucksack down to her.

"I won't be gone long."

Twisting in the saddle, he looked all around to make sure there were no possible threats in the area. Seeing nothing, he urged Djinni forward and moved off in a canter searching for a decent campsite, one with running water hopefully.

Lyric

Lyric slung her pack around and shouldered and centered the weight as best she could. Everything she owned had been brought on this journey and she was far from her home. Sometimes she felt that she wasn't far at all though, or at least far enough.

While watching Pietro ride ahead a piece, scouting for a camp, an old piece of a tune she had heard when she was not this age, back in the Then, came to her. Perhaps it was walking so close to the Dirkwood that reminded her of this bit of song but suddenly it had meaning in the Now...

She sang a little as she walked, quietly, letting the melody be her companion as she walked bravely on... She sang in a hauntingly clear voice

"Now there's a tale I'm after singin' that me father used to tell
He said 'twas to enlighten me and chasten me as well
You may laugh about yer elders when She is shining bright
But be sure yer on the Imperial side of Killon's Bridge tonight"

It was not a happy song, that much was for sure. But it did impart a powerful warning as cautionary tales did go. Lyric couldn't remember when exactly she first heard it. Probably a minstrel sharing tales and songs that he had learned in his own travels. However it came to be known by her, it was one of the things that inspired her to become a minstrel as well.

Yes, the ever close Dirkwood and the encroaching fall of night must have brought this song to her mind. She skipped a couple or four verses to sing the final one in the intro. It was a long song, and one that would put you on the edge of your seat, that much was a truth.

"Now me, I'm no believer in such stories as their told
But things there are around us that can chill a heart so bold
And never will I laugh again at me father and his ale
For I have been across the bridge and lived to tell the tale"

She dare not sing this song to Pietro. There'd be no sleeping for either of them then. Every creak and groan and rustle of the wind through the grasses and the rushes would stir the tension tighter and tighter. Eyes darting and not drifting on dream. Oh and this was saying nothing of the howls and cries from deep within the dark and dangerous coppice itself.

She walked along humming now and she found herself hoping that Pietro was wise enough to look only on the south side of the trail for a place to rest the night.

Pietro


Pietro stood in his stirrups and saw a few trees bearing off toward the south in an almost straight line and, thinking that might indicate a stream or creek, glanced over his shoulder to make sure Lyric was all right.

She was following him along the path some ways back, but she seemed to be okay so he cantered toward the trees he'd spotted.

Lyric

"So it seems he likes the sight of something," she said to herself.

Pietro had turned off the trail, taking his horse into the grasses, among the rocks to find his way towards a small stand or copse, more like a line, of trees. She assumed that was his intention, but the truth of it was she barely saw him atop the horse. They were a far piece down the trail and were it not for the glint of the rays of She on all that metal he wore, she might not tell him from the shadows that were lengthening already.

She continued down the trail and figured she might be close enough for him to be back with word if he had found what he sought.

Pietro


He spotted the creek which ran along a declivity between two rows of small threes. Pietro put pressure on Djinni's flanks with his knees and the sensitive mare turned and cantered back to where Lyric was walking.

"There's a good place up there," he said, pointing ahead and to the left toward the copse of trees. He slid down from the saddle and resumed walking alongside the singer.

"Just a few minutes ahead."

Lyric

She nodded at Pietro. It was a fair thing to leave the assessment of the shelter to him. She was wondering though, if a fire would be wise. She had chosen against building one these last several nights. So very close to the shadow of the Dirkwood, maybe too close. Travelling alone, she didn't tempt darkness. But a fire would mean she could bundle a mash and heat it on a rock. It would be so much more filling and enjoyable than grains, seeds and berries, and a bit of gnawing on a meat strip. A fire would be nice.

But the fire would have to be sheltered and preferably concealed below the rise in terrain. There would be no good to come from 'inviting the shadows to dinner'.

"I have some simple trail food, with a little dried meat still, hart, I think... stuff I took from home when I left. It's not much but I will share and I can prepare something.... It won't be fine fare, that's a certainty... Not the kind yer used to in the big cities, but it will keep 'snarkhounds at bay' as the old saying goes... right?"

Pietro


"I would be pleased to share your fare, simple though it might be, Miss Lyric," he said as they approached the selected campsite.

"In my time of traveling, I have made do with much less and considerably worse."

He smiled down at her and then glanced around as was his habit.

"But I probably have more than you do so..." he paused and smiled again.

"Share and share alike."

Arriving at the creek bank, he looked around, frowning in consideration of the possibilities. Finally he nodded and began unsaddling and tending to Djinni.

"If we can find some dry wood underneath one of these trees, we could manage a near smokeless fire," he mused as he slapped the mare on her flank and let her go to the creek to drink her fill before rolling briefly on the small sandy beach, shaking the dust free and then moving off to find some decent graze.

"Remind me later to give Djinni her feedbag. I have an oats and barley mixture she likes. It's good for her, too. She has a bit of a nervous stomach at times and, if she eats only fresh grass for several days in a row, she tends to get the uh... scours."

The squire removed his chain armor and greaves and started gathering tinder and firewood, humming an intriguing tune as he worked.

(OOC: going to move things along as we work for some closure in this thread)



Lyric

While Pietro gathered wood she set about to sort through her remaining food supplies to come up with a meal. When Pietro returned she would see what he hoped to offer to her efforts. As gathering the wood, enough of it, could take a while she then checked out the creek bank to look for some broad leaf plants she could use for a mash wrapping.

She Pietro passed her along the bank on his way back to the encampment, she heard him humming a song. Of course she couldn't resist asking but she would have to wait until she was bringing her leaves back to the camp and passing him yet again.

"What is the song you sing," she asked of him as she crossed his path with her leaves.

Pietro


Choosing a near level spot not far from the creek, Pietro squatted, laid the basis for the fire, tinder and kindling, and got a small blaze started in only a few moments. He fed a few larger sticks and, once he was satisfied it would stay lit, he got to his feet and checked his saddlebags.

"I have a pot of pare-boiled beans flavored with venison that..." he paused and sniffed the mixture.

"Which need to be eaten soon," he said with a grin. "They'll be fine tonight, but... day after tomorrow?" He shrugged.

"I couldn't promise."

He added some water from the stream to the pot and placed it by the fire. Then he paused when he heard her question, looking confused and perhaps a bit embarrassed as if he had been caught doing something... wrong.

"Well, it's a song some of us squires used to sing when no one was listening... back in our training days when we were feeling a bit... rebellious and, like I said, no one was around to overhear our bad manners."

Pietro grinned crookedly and looked around before clearing his throat.

"I only remember one verse... there were a lot of them I've forgotten, but this is one of the... tamer ones."

He began to sing in his untrained, but not unpleasant tenor voice.

"Well the squires pious teachers
And the RamesDay preachers
Praise the virtues of sassafras root.
But what they are drinking
When She is a sinking
Is the drink brewed from forbidden fruit."

[OOC: The GM is welcome to correct sassafras to make it more HWD-like as long as he doesn't destroy the meaning or meter of the song. ]

Lyric

Lyric knelt near a rock as she was laying out a couple broad leaves as Pietro began to sign his verse from his early days of training. She began tapping her thigh with one hand as she paused what she was doing to give Pietro her full attention. She smiled broadly despite not understanding a couple of the words, nor the concept behind them. He was a fair singer too and that just made the more complicated rhyming structure come across even better.

She laughed aloud and clapped for her travelling companion when he finished.

"You really must remember other verses... it sounds like fun."

Pietro


"Oh, this is the kind of song where you write your own verses," he said, smiling in appreciation of her response.

"The song has been around for... oh, I have no idea how long and it must have hundreds of verses on all kinds of subjects. It is a favorite in the lower circles of Talantal."

Pietro squatted and stirred the pot.

"It is rumored by some that the original version or at least the tune was written by Thomas Montgomery himself."

Lyric

"There is so much I don't know," she admitted. "Like, I don't know who this Thomas is, and I've never been to Talantal... I really haven't been anywhere. This is my first time away from my home... so much is new and I want to hear it all....I want to learn it all... Every song, every poem... every story..."

And sensing that she was babbling a little in her enthusiasm over hearing something new, she bowed her head and sighed. She tried to focus again on the potatoes she had been carrying. They needed to peeled and boiled. They were the staple in her mash mixture.

"You sang very nice," she offered meekly, without eye contact.

Pietro


"Thank you... that means a lot coming from you... a singer of songs."

He thought a moment.

"The Tales of Thomas Montgomery as I heard is a series of humorous songs about the exploits of a rogue by the name of Thomas Montgomery..." He paused and smiled.

"Many minstrels have their own version of songs about him, each one more unlikely than the last."

Pietro went back to his saddlebags and got out an onion. He cut off a couple of black spots and then sliced the remainder of the onion into the now bubbling beans.

"Alliteration! That's the word! I knew it would come to me."

The Heartwood
Waverider’s Watch
The Dirkwood Forest, One Day East of Waverider’s Watch
Restday, the Fifth Day of Yrick

Pietro and Lyric... and others

A place to camp on the High Tarn was not hard to find.; it would have been hard not to find some trees for shelter or a small brook for water. Those were some of the few things one could find in abundance here in the middle of nowhere, in the shadow of the Dirkwood Forest.

It was nominally safe, too. Most natural predators had less challenging prey to find than those protected by a campfire, and there should be very few traveling out here – which made the patterns of hoof prints and disturbed swaths of tall grass all the more odd. The High Tarn was thus a sword that sliced both ways – it provided a moderately safe place for travelers to camp and walk, and yet its rolling hills and scattered rock could hide quite a bit from casual sight.

Pietro had already suspected this; many of the nights when he slept beneath the stars probably could have been spent in a sheltered barn or a farmer’s warm main room... except he had merely missed seeing the farmhouse as he rode by. It was not trying to hide in some nefarious manner, it was just the way things were out here.

True, it lacked order and rigor and too much was left to chance. But after riding these hills for so long, there was something to be said for living in a land by the land’s terms.

He had heard that a Knight had once said it was better to work with people than to force them into compliance. Maybe this was somehow like that. Of course, that Knight could not have been from Talantal.

They would never have said anything like that.

And for Lyric, it was simply a new song. It was a different one, too. It was a loose and ever-changing song, not the kind of melody where her betters would frown at a wrong note or a cadence that was not quite the expected, traditional meter.

The High Tarn somehow expected the unexpected. Or perhaps, rather, accepted it.

It was unexpected, something like a new song – finding a stranger walking the same path, being able to name a flower, telling a stranger a funny tale and discovering that laughter was the same no matter where you came from, and that every morning was very different and could be both warming and uncomfortable.

Here, stray roots obviously were both definitely misbehaved and stealthy, their presence not known until one discovered the bruise while undertaking the morning’s first yawn.

Breakfast on the trail was simple – it was what they carried with them, warmed on the hot coals of last night’s fire. But in some way, that simple fare somehow tasted as good as if they were in a fancy manor hall. This was true for both Lyric and Pietro, having spent the last bit alone. It was something most farmer’s wives knew, and why they waited both for their husbands to come in from the fields and berated them when they were late.

Food just tasted better when you didn’t eat alone.

Breakfast finished, cookery gear cleaned, the fire put out and coal scattered, the two newfound companions were ready to continue their way west. And for most of the morning, it was uneventful, save for their own lively conversation, words crafted to fill the empty spaces between here and there.

Once, far off to their right, Lyric caught sight of three figures, three riders, also headed in the same general direction. When she looked again or tried to point them out, they were simply not there. Like missing a farmhouse, they had been swallowed by the landscape.

Though that modest glimpse wasn’t the oddest thing that they saw.

They found themselves on the barest of paths. It was noted in just little bits and pieces, but it was evident that wagons had traveled the same way that they did. There were small stripes of bared earth here and there and those with a sharp eye could tell three things.

First was that the wagons that had passed by here had definitely chosen the easiest way to travel west.

Second, the wagons had passed by recently, for the tall grasses were still disturbed. Now, that was passing strange, as Marketday should have been yesterday and that was when most farmer folks went from one place to another.

Last, there was a destination.

Ahead, brilliantly illuminated in the morning light, was a huge gray rock, larger than any of the nearby hills, crouched close to the Forest. Atop that rock were a small building and, a little bit further away, a stone tower. A few houses clustered at its base and it looked like there may be a bustling of activity there.

But, in truth, there was nothing really odd about that.

What was odd was that just ahead of them they glimpsed three figures walk out of the forest. The Haunted Forest. The Forest That Ate People.

They lost sight of them for a moment, as their own path took them around a small rise.

When they saw them again, there were only two.

One was a girl dressed in bright colors.

The second was dressed in creams and white, her simple pale surcoat trimmed with two stripes of gold.

That would throw even the most staunch Knight for a proverbial loop. Those were distinctive colors.

Had Pietro truly just witnessed a Lady of Attera walk out of the Dirkwood?

Pietro


Walking along, he and Lyric had been pointing out to each other the different sights, ordinary and unusual, obvious and less clear of meaning.

"I wonder me if Marketday comes a day late here in these parts?"

But then he paused and his sagged open slightly.

"A Lady of Attera?" He turned an incredulous look at his companion.

Keiko

As she stepped onto the Path, she heard the slow clop clop clop of a horse’s steps... just a single horse. That was interesting. Turning toward the sound, Keiko saw the horse... the man of Rames... and another young woman who looked to be near her own age.

“More visitors! How delightful!” she said to the healer, a hint of a laugh in her voice. “I don’t think these are the folks your Mikal D’Allyne is expecting. And I don’t know quite where our stalwart guardsmen are going to stack more people. But it would be a kindness to wait for them, don’t you think?”

Violet eyes turned to watch the newcomers as they approached. The man’s surprise seemed to amuse her for some reason.

Lyric

If there was any sense of wariness or unease, Lyric didn't show. In fact she seemed more curious than anything else. Her step quickened to include an occasional skip-step, maybe more like a hop to try to see around the terrain inconveniences.

"I don't know," she said eagerly. Her eyes were alight and her smile was broad. "But maybe we should catch up to them. To find out who they are, is all."

Perhaps a bit of caution would be in order, but it seemed Lyric had none.

Pietro


The squire of Rames felt no unease or hesitation in meeting the Lady of Attera or her female companion (for a moment he wondered about the third person, the one who had disappeared as they had passed around the big rock and his hand went to his sword hilt).

He was, however, very surprised at seeing them appear from within the Dirkwood.

"Certainly we should meet and greet them, Miss Lyric," he said and lifted a hand in greeting as they approached the pair.

Bekkah

"Of course, I always enjoy meeting new people. I assume neither is anyone you've seen here before?" she said to her companion.

As the others caught up to them, she immediately saw the markings of one of Rames followers.

*Please don't make him another one come to protect me.* she thought groaning inwardly. They'd see none of that for they were greeted by a smile, framed by her golden hair.

"A good day to you both."

Lyric

But Lyric was already walking ahead of Pietro as the squire was agreeing. She had quickened her pace now to match her mood.

"New people and new stories," she added, almost pleading for him to hurry.

The one in white issued her own greeting when they were closing the distance, Lyric at a quick-step pace, sometimes adding a skip. and looking back to her comrade who led a horse, with his gear and her pack, at a more normal and respectable pace for an adult.

Lyric returned the wave, with a beaming smile and wide, bright eyes that were trying to take in everything at once. This was a first meeting, in the Now. Things like only happen once in any relationship, good or bad. She was genuinely excited.

Keiko

Keiko shook her head at the healer’s question. As she watched the others approach, her smile grew as she watched the other girl as she skipped, almost danced toward them. So much happiness! She didn’t really look like someone from any of the Families, but she knew one of her fellow Waveriders somewhere out on the High Tarn didn’t fit the Rhoni stereotype either. She stepped forward to greet her, stopping a respectful distance away.

“Hello! Are you and your knight journeying to Waverider’s Watch or merely passing through? Have you come for the market? I’m Keiko and this...” She gestured back toward the woman wearing white. “...is Lady Bekkah.” The Colonial she spoke was easily understood, with a lilting accent that hinted at the far north area of the Black Mountains.

Her violet eyes reflected the happiness in her smile. With her cloak hanging open, it was easy to see that most of the bright trim around the edging of her tunics was embroidery of seemingly random geometric designs, while the sleeves were dyed various colors — almost as if she used her tunic as a test surface for different pigments. One would not need to be rudely staring to note the daggers at her waist. Keiko knew her hair was less neat than usual, so the red blaze was scattered more haphazardly through her black hair than the usual orderly stripe.

She looked toward the Forest, despite knowing she wouldn’t see anything but the Forest itself, before turning back to the other girl.

“Will you share your name? And that of your companion?”

Lyric

The Tarnan girl was still wearing her lightweight over and under tunics. The over tunic done in thin layers to pretend to a gossamer nature. She also had a heavier hooded cloak in a tartan pattern draped over her shoulders to ward off the morning chill as She was not high enough overhead yet to warm the day. Her thick, long, chestnut brown hair was roughly parted in the middle and she wore a circlet made of flowers and their stems woven together like a fine floral wreath. Her features were attractive, and certainly not plain, but she had made no efforts to accentuate any of her features with powders or rogues or dyes. Her eyes were very blue, and with that wide-eyed child-like look of wonderment and joy she certainly appeared innocent enough.

The openness of the cloak revealed she was neither armed nor armored, not even wearing leathers. As the one who called herself Keiko introduced herself and the Imperial Lady in White, Lyric couldn't help but get caught up, to the point of mezmerization, in the patterns of the Rhoni girl's brightly colored clothing. She smiled broadly as she cocked her head slightly, considering angles to look at the embroidery and shapes.

Lyric didn't immediately answer Keiko's first questions. Instead she seemed wholly focused on seeing everything there was to see about these two new acquaintances.

It wasn't until she heard the exotic girl, Keiko, ask her to share her name that Lyric realized she was letting The Now slip by too much.

She made a quick glance to Pietro and Djinni, only to see them a few long steps away still but coming close now. She returned her attention to the new arrivals on the trail.

"If you wish to be called Lyric as well, then YES, we can share my name," she said with a Highside Tarnan accent "But I think your own name is very pretty... very expressive in the harshness of using the same tone for each of the two parts. Simple in its parts to make a more complicated whole..."

As Pietro was now close, she let that thought slide away and spoke her own form of introduction for her friend.

"Ser Pietro isn't my Knight. He is Lord Rames' Knight... and he isn't a Knight, he's a Squire." She didn't say that in a way meant to demean him, but it was more like she was repeating the distinction she had been told, and treating the difference as though one were still an equal to the other. And thus the rambling, carefree, whimsy could not be escaped. "A very nice one too... generous and kind... and very honorable too... and good measure of cute to look as well... and so, if'n you have an interest then know I am not his doxy and you are free to pursue him in courtship if'n you wish."

Never once did her genuine smile falter. Nor did she seem to realize she was speaking too much.

Keiko

She watched the other girl studying — intently, and yet not — her tunic trimmings. Keiko understood the desire to sometimes get lost in the patterns, especially those that had been stitched by Grandmother on the hem. But when Lyric finally did share her name, Keiko giggled.

“No, thank you. My name, I think, suits me better... although only because I have become so accustomed to it, and I like it, too, for my mother gave it to me. That is only the short part of my name, though. The whole of it is Keiko kha’Chiyo kha’Masuyo kha’Tsukiko kha’Chouko khal’Nakano Hoshiko. It sounds like a song, don’t you think? I often do.

“But Lyric is a lovely name, as well. Does it mean just exactly as it sounds... that you are a singer? I love to sing, and am always happy to find others who would sing with me.”

She looked over at the squire.

“Serpietro... a squire. An unusual name, that is. And I can never remember how to tell the difference between squire and knight... something about belts, or some such. Not all my lessons stick in my brain as well as others, and that might be one of them. I do know of the Lord Rames, and the Lord Hastur, and the Lady Attera — Lady Bekkah serves her — and the One Who Isn’t Named. The Imperials. Lady Bekkah’s sister is a Knight, but she is a Knight of the Lady Sun. I’d like to meet her. She sounds very nice. But she is not here.” She glanced over her shoulder at Bekkah for a moment before continuing. “Lady Bekkah misses her, and her voice sounds sad when she talks about her,” she murmured.

But then she nodded at the further information about the squire. “I have heard of squires and knights who were not very nice, so it is a good thing that Serpietro is a good one. But I’m afraid I’m not allowed to court him, so he is free to be unencumbered by us both.”

Keiko was wholly aware of how much she was talking and, as it was her nature to be talkative except for when listening was a better alternative, it didn’t bother her in the least. Right here and right now, this felt to be a comfortable balance in the currents of the World. Although it was not her habit to attend the Restday market, it would be kind to let Missus Miller to let her know she was well. But hospitality was also important, as she learned from the Miller himself when first came to the tiny village.

The time for returning to her little room would arrive when it did. Until then, Keiko would ride this wave.

But she did note that she probably had a tiny pot of pigment that matched Lyric’s eyes.

Bekkah

The new girl, Lyric introduced herself and in a flurry the two younger women seemed to take off in chatter as if it had been stored up for ages. The innocence of it made her smile and as the squire approached, she winked up at him as she glanced from girl to girl and back to him.

She said nothing else, letting the man have a chance to speak himself as she knew he would want to properly introduce himself, probably not from atop his horse.

Pietro


Walking along behind the singer of songs, leading his mount, Pietro put his right arm across his chest, fist clenched over his heart, and opened his mouth to greet first the Lady of Attera, but then Lyric and the other young woman started conversing back and forth almost two quickly for him to follow. He closed his mouth, leaving his greeting - for the moment - unsaid.

When a brief pause gave him opportunity, just as the Lady Healer surprised him with a perhaps conspiratorial wink, the squire spoke.

"I give you greetings in the name of Lord Rames the Protector," he said in a not quite formal tone. "Lady Bekkah," he nodded toward her. "Miss Keiko."

"My name is not Ser Pietro," he continued with an almost embarrassed smile toward Lyric.

"That is the form of address Miss Lyric uses for me. My name is Pietro. More fully, Pietro Keir Hansson, son of Hans Keurig, late of Tantalal, and squire in the service of Lord Rames the Protector."

"And uh..." he paused and cleared his throat. "I am not ah... currently seeking a lady to court."

Keiko

Tilting her head to one side, Keiko regarded the squire intently for a moment, and then blinked slowly.

“Well, then, you have my apologies, Pietro Keir Hansson of Talantal. How is it that you prefer to be addressed? And it is likely a good thing you are not seeking to court anyone, as I doubt there is anyone here to court, unless Lady Bekkah has a desire to be courted, for Dama Kadri is already married to the very fine Lord Dominic Korie, also of Talantal, and the farmers’ daughters...”

Keiko paused for a breath, and to think for a second.

“Perhaps their mothers might think them of an age to be courted but perhaps not, even though you are a squire of Lord Rames and, according to Lyric, a fine and good squire, too.” She nodded decisively. “Have you met Lord Dominic? I have recently come to learn what a good and honorable man he is. He is well-respected here.”

She looked beyond him, behind him, along the trail he and Lyric had traveled.

“May I ask, Pietro of Talatal, from where you have come that you walk the Path of the Waveriders? I am merely curious, and certainly would never chide one of your esteemed position for traveling the Path of my long ago kinsfolk.”

Although the currents remained calm and the wave she rode was gentle, this was an interesting new pebble that could cause ripples... great ones, small ones... there was no way to know. Yet.

Pietro


"I do not worry overmuch over how I am addressed but, given my preference, I would prefer being called Pietro."

The squire looked a little uncomfortable when Keiko started analyzing his courtship prospects, but he had met women before who, once they started talking, had no ready ability to slow down or stop the river of information which tended to run unchecked from brain to mouth. He had learned to cope with it, not perfectly, but well enough to get by.

His eyes did widen, though, when Keiko mentioned that the new wife of Lord Dominic Korie was present, here in this out of the way hamlet on the edge of the Dirkwood.

It is still in Lord Dominic's domain, however, so mayhap the coincidence is not too great..." he thought after a moment.

"My father serves Khorall Korie as Knight Marshall and I was raised and received my early training in and around Talantal. So, while I am not personally familiar with Lord Dominic, I have seen him from a distance and, of course, have known of him near all my life."

He paused just a moment.

"I had just recently learned of the Lord's nuptials and would wish to offer his bride my congratulations and felicitations."

The Waveriders? Pietro frowned for a moment in thought. He wondered if this had something to do with the Rhoni's fabled ability to read the fates of other people. Instinctively, he reached up and touched the darksteel wagon wheel shaped ornament which dangled from the silver chain about his neck.

"Just recently, I have arrived here from the lands of House Montague and Brockman's Holdfast, but I have been wandering the lands of the Heartwood for over seven years now... doing my best to learn to serve my Lord Rames as best I can."

OOC: Inserted above where Pietro clarifies he is not seeking a lady to court- My writing got interrupted by the arrival of unannounced guests- sorry




Lyric

The name she thought sounded like a song. Maybe she was right, but even if it wasn't a song, it was long and had a poetic rhythm. More likely, Lyric believed the name told a story. And that alone intrigued more than anything else. A lineage told through names. In fact, Lyric almost missed the entirety of what Keiko was saying next as she tried to remember the whole name. She couldn't but she was hopeful that in adopting just two syllables by her own choice Keiko would not be offended if she couldn't remember the name that told her only one time thus far.

Pietro had introduced himself and clarified a few things as well, especially the part about his availability. It didn't offend Lyric any, for she knew Pietro was the one best suited to tell his own story... she only offered a prologue. Besides, what harm could it cause to

"Voice," she replied. "It means voice... and Yes, I have been gifted with a fair one I have used to sing."

Bekkah

She hid her amusement at Pietro's discomfort about seeking a lady to court. She wondered if the other two women were simply toying with him.

The last part of his statement caught her attention.

"You've been wandering the lands for years. I undertook a similar expedition on my own for years to see the people of the lands. It truly shaped who I am, I'd be interested to hear of your experiences if you have the time."

Her smile to him was genuine and not flirtatious. She was clearly not teasing him.

Before he could answer, she turned to Lyric.

"I would love to hear you sing. While I am a fair dancer, I've little singing talent, but I do delight in hearing those gifted with a lovely voice."

OOC: This will follow Pietro's latest- best I can do so that I am not speaking to everything in one long post



Lyric

After she responded to Keiko, the Rhoni girl in the brightly colored clothing directed her attention to Pietro. Lyric listened for a time. Still there were clarifications and the apologies for misinterpretations. Lyric was sure that such miscommunications were her fault, but she meant no disrespect and hoped none had been taken. Such things as they discussed though were hardly the most important things Lyric could imagine though. It was as if the details were more important than the experience. To Lyric the experience was the most important aspect of this, and the details were less so, especially to a storyteller.

"To answer your question about walking this trail also means I should answer an earlier question. I am not going anywhere with any particular purpose. I saw a path and I took it. It was away from where I came in the Then and I am still walking it in the Now. I met Ser Pietro along the way, or rather he met me... and we agreed to walk together. That there is a village ahead was unknown to me, but not unwelcome. I will meet more people and hear more stories... maybe tell a story or two myself. And Songs. I want to hear every song there is while I journey wherever the roads, trails, and paths take me. Th journey is more important than the destination. The Journey is an experience. It is life. It is living."

She probably didn't answer a question or two to the fullest desire of the questioner, but it was the answer that she shared all the same.

The Lady of Attera gave her the fullness of her attention and that was a blessing in itself.

"I am a minstrel, and not of a worldly nature, but I would be honored to sing for you. I think my voice is fair enough to call myself a minstrel... but I hope I don't disappoint you."