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‘It could have been us raised in that funeral pyre, our good lives destroyed, and us scattered on the winds.’
Meghan didn’t know what she was talking about. She had only seen the remains of what had been done by Brand and Incana and the others the evening before. She spoke only from later observations, when only a little smoke still wisped up from the ruins.
Athwen had seen more. Much more. And she had felt more, too. She wasn’t expected her home to be mentioned so suddenly, and spoken of so sadly, and not only in passing. Meghan had been touched by what she had seen, Athwen was sure, but no amount of sorrow or pity from anyone could help put away the empty sorrow and fear that the burning and killing of the village had put into Athwen. Her calm mask she had somehow managed to wear while greeting them was suddenly and unexpected stripped entirely away. Tears darted into her eyes and the lump in her throat was choking. She dropped Parith’s reins and her hands flew to her face, covering most of it in her futile attempt to keep from crying in open.
Shooting a swift glance towards her companion, she saw that Meghan had not become aware that she had so affected Athwen. She herself was actually in the action of wiping her eyes with her sleeve, and she drew a deep breath before she went on. ‘Ah. . .enough. Tears will do no good. Let’s ride a little faster if you don’t mind. Once our two companions are with us we’ll be on our way.’
Athwen made no immediate response. She didn’t mind going faster. A quicker gait would mean less talking, and Meghan’s words had undone her enough. But before they did urge their mounts onto a faster speed, Meghan continued. ‘We’re on our way to Edoras. To see the King and tell him. . .’
Athwen started and looked up, surprised and so shocked at the words that she just about missed the rest of what Meghan said. When she finished and looked at her, Athwen was nearly gaping.
‘But that’s exactly what the others are going for!’ she exclaimed. ‘That’s what they told me when they found me and we were going to start again tomorrow!’ Meghan gave her a swift, questioning glance. ‘I can’t explain it all, I don’t really understand all of it, but Brand will tell you. He’s the leader, I think.’
Meghan may have been wanting to reply, but at that moment, her three other companions rode up to them. Rædwald rode up to Athwen and told her she had better ride in the front of the column, a logical idea, which she immediately took the post of. It was an excellent place to ride, with her back to the others and her pale, teary face turned towards the wind and to no one’s eye. Perhaps it would look less as though she had been crying when they reached the camp.
In very few minutes at all they came to the trees and bushes. Athwen led them, threading her way easily through, and finally stopped. She slid from her horse and walked to his head.
‘I’ve brought some more people,’ she said to everyone there. She nodded towards Fion and Osmod. ‘They’re friends of them.’
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