Old Trails

[Llyewell]

She wasn't sure why she had come back. Life had been simple in her hidden home. No one to talk to, no one to smile for. No threads.

Simple, but lonely.

The trails she walked back to Dundee were over grown and hard going. The old limp did little to ease her passage, but Llyewell called Loreweaver by the gods plodded along relentlessly. She could hear the movements and see evidence of the passage of the wolves and bears that resided in the forest, but neither species troubled her, and she had little call to bother them. They went their ways, and if their paths crisscrossed over each other, it was never at the same time. Llyewell walked alone.

There had been panic in the Inn, with all those eyes turned upon her. A dozen names and faces, and all strange to her but for Jeffrey behind the bar, and the man who walked in once she was already seated. Steel, the Minstrel, her one time friend. An' more than tha', Lly-gel. It felt odd to think of herself as 'Lly-gel', for though she cared not for appearance, her bones told her years had passed. How many? Nearly a decade come and gone since she and those she loved walked the trails and spun their stories in the inns and taverns around Dundee and Milltown.

Now, surrounded by the green ocean of the plains grasses, Lly closed her eyes and called Steel's face to her mind. Older, yes, but weren't they all? The same grey eyes, though. And his smile had been... Freely given, yes. She was sure of it. His words were welcoming, though he had kept his distance. Still, there'd been many bodies in the inn, and many years between the two still rested, devoid of explanation. There would be a reckoning, she felt.

She opened her eyes, taking a deep breath to bolster her resolve and her heavy legs. The old injury still twinged when she walked too much, and she had placed several miles beneath her feet tonight. A little further to go, yet. She was driven, a woman with a mission, a desire. A need.

Around her, the plains spread out in every direction, with little to recommend one direction over another. She concentrated on her feet, watching for prairie dog holes and other hazards. She kept her mind upon the tale spun in the inn, and far away from who she could not bear to think about. Not yet. The tale had been a small thing, the words twisting and falling from her mouth in tangles, rather than skeins. Everyone had been so gracious about it, giving no sign of disappointment. Lly was disappointed enough in herself for all. She thanked them quietly as they thanked her, and kept her smile upon her mouth so that her bafflement and embarrassment would not shine through. She hadn't lingered long, though the seat felt good and the ale was fine. Too many faces, too many names, and all of them new.

She lifted her head, seeing a break in the plains ahead. Her grey-green eyes narrowed, working a little harder each day to bring things into focus. A small shape, still distant, but she thought she could make out the shades of red and white. Her gait quickened, steps small and uneven, drawing ever closer to her goal. At last, she stopped short, and a hoarse cry faced the ever present wind of the plains.

They were still there, grown large and wild. Two rose bushes, one of scarlet, the other of snow. She made her way to them and lowered herself painfully to the ground, grunting with the twinge in her thigh at the old break. Setting her staff aside, she stretched out each hand to cup a delicate blossom-- one of crimson, the other of cream.

"Mylor." Just that word, and no others. It escaped on a sigh, and was chased by quiet sobs as memories filled her mind as completely as the scent of roses filled her lungs.

[Llyewell]

They streamed past her at a decent clip, and she knew where their preoccupied steps would take them: To Altitan. There they would hold vigil at the gates, sleeping in shifts and sharing meals and conjecture.

Llyewell laughed softly, and murmured, "They hold their breath an' turn their eyes on new horizons, while I explore the old. Clear trails t'them all, an' may they bring back tales fer the tellin'."