Spoils of War (closed for Cherribo)

[Suzuha]

By the third day, their initial brash valour and bold strides had dulled to a whisper as quiet as their slow trek through the wooded hills. The horses were nervous, champing and impatient, ready to break into a run if only their riders would allow. Perhaps running would have been the safer bet if their pace was not slowed immensely by the three wagons that formed the centre of their column.

In the first wagon travelled an Elven princess and her mother. The mother was sick in the lungs and had been summering in the south to regain her strength. In the second were supplies of medicine and the doctor to administer them. In the last, foods and other crates of valuables that the party hadn't been willing to leave behind.

Meredith Woods -- Merry to her friends -- could hard believe that they could be moving so slowly or that they could possibly need all the baggage. Not for the first time, she cursed the pigheadedness of nobility and their so called treasures. Didn't they know that war was hot on their heels? Of course, she knew that was exactly why they were travelling so laden, for the summer homes would likely now be occupied by Orcish warbands, if not just a smouldering ruin entirely.

So they travelled the wider paths, frequently slowed as they negotiated wagon wheels past jutting roots or around small scree slides that were common to these parts.

That these woods and hills were what Merry would consider home gave her no comfort. Each snapping twig, each distant crack, she started, bow ready. It was tiring being on edge so much of the time. She was not a warrior, nor even an Elf, and she wondered what bad turn she'd done to deserve to be drafted to this ill fated convoy.

Of course, she knew what.

Born to crofters, she should remember how townsfolk were so precious about their possessions, but her parents had died when she was still quite young and she'd grown up in the woods with her uncle and aunt. There she learned to track and hunt and trap 'til the woods were second nature, her true home. But she still remembered the little treats she'd been given from the stalls in the town market and her teeth had kept their sweetness even over the years. So much so that on a trip into town to offer a deer and brace of rabbits for sale at the butcher, she could help but filch a fresh apple pie.

She'd had no money to speak of, and her uncle would have beaten her if she'd used the money from the sale to buy such a frivolous thing. So she stole it, and was promptly caught. Three days in the stockade was to be her punishment, but the reports of war came mere hours after her incarceration. She was offered her freedom in exchange for her skills as a woods-guide and she jumped at the chance to get back out into the world. Just she'd not expected it'd be this difficult, nor potentially so dangerous, and thinking back she now wondered if she'd have been leaving the stockade today and be on her way home -- to a beating, she didn't doubt -- instead of running ahead of this group of over privileged nobles and their stupid insistence on dragging too much with them.

She squatted near a tree, leaving her bow on the ground for a moment while she pulled her unruly russet curls back into a twist and tie behind her head. Her uncle was always berating her for leaving her hair long, but then he treated her like a boy in most other ways so she was thankful he allowed her this one girlish fancy. She wondered about the sense of it herself, some days, when she was extracting some thorny twig or a hive of bramble burrs from it, but when she got herself clean and could borrow her aunt's small mirror, she fancied herself prettier with it than without.

Twigs behind her snapped loudly, accompanied by the creak of leather and the rustle of chain links. Again, she started, even though she knew that it must be the point of the guard catching up with her. Sure enough, red blazoned tabard bearing the the golden eagle of Highwatch rounded a tree maybe fifty yards to her rear, a weary looking human soldier forecast the arrival of the main party.

Highwatch had sent twenty soldiers to assist the Elves in withdrawing to a safer location. Not much, but the majority of the forces were still being mustered, battle lines still being formed against this sudden Orc invasion. Merry had not seen any fighting, but they'd turned from the main road after the first day on reports of raiding parties ahead. It was for this eventuality that she'd been brought along but the woods were no place for carts and there was only so much she could do. In a few miles -- what might be a few years, at this rate -- they'd have to turn northwards to rejoin the road as the paths would become trails and even a cart, never mind a wagon, would struggle to pass.

"Damn Elves and their stupid wagons," she cursed under her breath, afraid that if she was overheard by the guards they'd cuff her for insulting their noble allies. She spat, a bad habit from her uncle, then collected her bow and set forth once more.

 

[Cherribo]

Aurae had always known what her future would be. Standing tall for one of Elven blood at 5'9, she was lean, graceful; long-haired and delicate. Her face, usually pulled into a stern, almost unfriendly expression, was pale with soft features, blessed with high cheekbones and full lips. Her hair usually had to be tamed in submission, brushed back into a high ponytail, long, dark waves of chestnut gently curling as the tail moved with every step she took. However, her very stance betrayed her role; even as she walked, her footsteps were both light and powerful. If someone looked at her, they would probably notice the array of weapons strapped to her waist and thighs before they noticed her good looks. A sworn bodyguard to the royalty that was being escorted, Aurae was part of a long line of similar staff, bound to the royal family by blood. Her family had always served them, and Aurae had been trained for this honour almost from birth. Taught to only speak when spoken to, the very epitome of the silent, deadly killer on a leash.

Aurae had hardly spoken a word to anyone on this trip, except to politely introduce herself before they had left Ouavell, and again to the new recruit they'd picked up a few days prior, needing a new scout for the last stretch of the journey. Before they had left the retreat to finally escort the princess and her mother home, Aurae had been pulled aside to be told, quite seriously, that she was to revert to being a shadow of protection during the journey. Aurae had managed to relax during the months of guarding the weak Queen, her duties light, with more spare time than she'd ever had before. She'd become friendly with the guards that lived there, even entering a sort of affair with one that had to be ended abruptly a few weeks before they had left. It had been enjoyable, Aurae mused. Perhaps a little foolish, but it had been nice to feel free from the restraints of her role, for a while. The time spent with him had passed too quickly, but Aurae was at least satisfied that she had the memories of their companionship to look back at fondly, and not bitterly, as they had mutually parted. It kept a faint smile on her lips as she fell asleep, gave her thoughts some life as she kept watch during her shifts.

Snapping away from her daydreams, Aurae once again focused her eyes on the road ahead. Beside her stood four of the twenty men that had been stationed to escort them, alongside their few Elven guards, on the rough paths from the last town. Aurae had to restrain herself from staring at the human guests when they had first arrived. Of course, the Elves and the Human had been allied for years - although, this war with the Orc from the North-East had been the first time they'd fought together - but Aurae had seen very little of them during her time spent serving. They were stocky, strange creatures - their limbs seemed heavier, their heads more square, and altogether seemed more rugged and worn around the edges than Aurae's Elven kin. They had a sense of survivability around them though, and she certainly didn't complain at having some extra able swords around. Some had tried making conversation with her, and although Aurae had been as equally curious in finding out more, she had to remember her duties and had slinked into the darkness to "check their surroundings", when in reality, it had been to ignore further attempts at chat. It was a shame, but Aurae knew where her loyalties lied.

Narrowing her eyes, Aurae looked to the guard on her left. Short, dark brown hair, thick facial hair that twisted into a messy beard, armour that was a little too big. He looked new to the sword, and had been one of those introducing himself to everyone, including Aurae, on his first night with them. Clearing her throat, Aurae caught his attention - was that a flush on his cheeks? How amusing..

"Human, go find our scout. Being out of sight for longer than a few minutes is not in her job description."

Aurae winced inwardly. Her voice was rough, almost growly, from not being used in a few days. It seemed to intimidate the young Human soldier in front of her, who bowed his head shakily and walked off quickly into the dense woodland that surrounded their current path. Grunting in satisfaction, Aurae turned her gaze back ahead as the carriages rounded a corner, revealing another long stretch of road before them. Glimpsing the soldier finding the scout in the corner of her eye, Aurae felt her stomach unclench in relief. This scout had been reliable as far, but with no credentials to her name, Aurae had been keeping a close eye on her when she could to make sure she didn't pull a fast one. Highwatch had been unable to supply them any enlisted scouts, and they'd had to make do by recruiting from the citizens. An embarrassment that Aurae wished they could of avoided. As if Elven royalty had to hire from commoner folk..but if this girl got the job done, Aurae was not going to complain.

Tapping on the side of the first carriage, Aurae let the three occupants - the Queen and the princess, along with another bodyguard - know that a short break would be coming in the next hour or so. She'd rather that travelled all day without these stupid breaks, but the Queen had insisted that travelling made her weary, and stops would have to be made every four to five hours at least. It irked Aurae - they would be much further to home without the stops - but it was against her training to disobey a direct order, or to even bring the matter up for debate. It was just the way of things, and Aurae had learnt that's how it'd always be.

 

[Suzuha]

The guard grumbled when he thought he was far enough from the Elves to get away with it, "I've got a name, y'know." The more explicit diatribe he kept even quieter than that 'til he caught sight of the girl leading the group.

He waved a quick "all's well" back to the wagon train and moved up to meet her. He, like the other Highwatch soldiers, had been told to keep an eye out to make sure she didn't just run to the trees as soon as she got her chance and so far so good. Still, wouldn't do to appear like they were getting soft.

Gruffly but not loudly he berated, "You're s'posed to keep yourself in sight of the lead man, girl. That's me, just now, so be sure to keep that in mind, y'hear?"

"Yeah yeah," Merry responded, quieter still but clearly dismissive of the warning all the same. "If you were all moving faster than a half dead snail then perhaps my slowest possible walking legs wouldn't have me off round another bend."

Never one to be circumspect when she felt she could keep out of reach, she pulled a rude face at the soldier and scampered back on the trail before he could reach out to grab her. She chuckled brightly and promptly pushed off round another thick cluster of trees 'til the wagons were no longer in view. The way she liked it, just her and the trees and as little to do with the party behind as she could manage. There wasn't any freedom to be had when night came so she had to make the best of the daylight.

The soldier cursed some more, offering beatings aplenty if only she were up close. She'd heard it all before, and received some of that too, from her uncle, and for less. In another few yards, she was almost beyond hearing that.

Not for the first time on this expedition she considered just taking off. The soldiers were tired and had bigger priorities than chasing after some errant thief-come-guide. But even as she longed to take flight, she as though that little frippery might turn out to be something very bad for the people she was guiding. She didn't like doing things that would actually lead to people getting hurt. The pie man had plenty of pies when she pilfered just that one, wasn't as if he was going to go hungry as a result. These people, Elves or no, were effectively lost in the woods and relying on her to steer them true before the war caught up with them. If nothing else, she'd always seen to her real responsibilities and this felt like one if ever there was one.

So, Merry didn't skip off into the woods. Somehow the idea that the war might catch up to her didn't really cross her mind. Always light, fleet of foot, she almost fancied herself a wood nymph, a slender winged waif always just out of reach. Even when he uncle cuffed her for some trouble she had caused, she almost felt it was more that she allowed him that in a sort of trade such that she'd still eat that evening. Wouldn't do to let him get too angry, and a few bruises never killed anyone, did they?

For all her wish to press on, she did at least try to keep a little contact with the group behind her, signing them on, pulling the occasional face at the lead soldier. As long as she got to eat, she didn't mind if they bawled her out later. And she'd get to eat, she knew. They needed her more than she needed them.

A handful of miles further they slowed and stopped for another rest break. Merry took a minute to range a little further ahead. All still clear, she was about to turn back when she spotted a fresh, heavy boot print on the path ahead, its course cutting across the path from the east. She tapped her fingers on the haft of her bow. It was an awfully large footprint. That'd make for one giant of a man. If it was a man.

She bit her lip. It wasn't as if there was a game trail that the feet that boot print belong to were following. It just went from woods to woods, weaving between the trees, like a hunter might, like she might if she were poaching deer. She wet her finger and held it to the air. Not much of a breeze, but what there was blew from her back. The boots were downwind, then.

The icy fingers of suspicion crawled at her back, her light spirits of just a moment ago dispelled at the concern that, just maybe, these woods were not so friendly after all. Keenly aware that her ranging had pushed her a fair way ahead of the wagons but unwilling to give her position away with a shout, she began to move backwards, creeping as quietly as she could, towards the soldiers. Fine, she'd seen nothing, but she'd learned that nothing happens by happenstance when it comes to tracking in the woods and a fresh print is as big a warning as one is likely to get. Slow, quiet, like hunting but in reverse, every rustle a peel of thunder to rival the pounding in her ears. Her hopeful inner voice cajoled that it might be nothing but better nothing and everyone warned than something and no warning given. Back to the wagons, step by step. Surely it can't be too much further?