Meghan
Meghan was more than glad to see her two companions all in one piece. When Athwen had spoken about the ambush, Meghan had gotten the idea that while the two were still alive, they were quite battered. She grinned widely at the two and ran to see them.
Osmod seemed fine. She looked at him appraisingly. No nicks or big bruises. She smiled a little wondering if the incident had ruffled his feathers a bit though. Best not tease him at this point . . . she told herself. Not in front of anyone, at least.
To Fion she spoke gently. He’d taken the brunt of the pummeling, it seemed. ‘We should have all stuck together,’ she told him. ‘Taken them on as a group.’ She rested her hand lightly on his arm. ‘You were very brave to scout ahead for us, Fion. Thank you for taking that on.’ She leaned in close to whisper to him. ‘Sometimes I curse the ill luck that set me on this journey to the King. Honestly, I don’t know how I’ll stand up to an attack, if one comes my way. Sometimes I find myself thinking I’d just run off like when my little flock scatters at the first hint of danger.’
She was about to say more when one of the other group’s men came walking over and began to introduce himself to Rædwald and the others of her group. Brand, he said his name was. From Wulfham. She frowned for a moment, the village name rousing some dusty memory in her thoughts. She could not quite catch the connections and shrugged it off as just some odd passing thought.
Meghan’s belly rumbled as he mentioned eating. Her eyes lit up at the thought of roasted bits of deer meat, sizzling hot from the fire. ‘Well, I for one would like to accept your invitation.’ She turned to Rædwald. ‘Didn’t you say you’d brought a little sack of oats? We can make oatcakes to fill in the empty spaces.’ She looked about the entire group. ‘I’m sure someone here will give me a hand.’
She stepped a little closer to Brand, her gaze traveling over his cheek wounds and those on his arms. ‘What happened to you?’ she said, her voice sounding genuinely interested. ‘I hope whatever did that is dead now!’ Her hand traveled up toward his face, but was quickly recalled as she realized he might take the action amiss. ‘Sorry!’ she murmured, her cheeks coloring. ‘I didn’t mean to be so bold.’
Last edited by Undómë; 04-04-2006 at 02:01 AM.
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