[Folwren]

Athwen had retreated and drawn back when Sythric asked Leod if they had come from Wulfham. She knew what the answer was and she didn’t like it. She didn’t want to be near when it was told that she and Leod weren’t initially part of the group riding to Edoras. Questions would have to arise, and they were already beginning to, but she didn’t want to have to answer them. It was too near, and too harsh. She actually feared their questioning looks and their pitying words - words that would try to put into understandable thoughts what the speaker was thinking but that would only end up causing uncomfortableness and remembrance of sorrow to deep to be fathomed yet by even the bearer, and far too fresh to be calmed by mere words from strangers.

Athwen was a coward and she knew it. She would have been able to face hardships and hunger and danger, so long as she had someone to go to during it and when it all was over. But now she had no one, and she couldn’t even face people who would like to befriend her.

She watched as Leod and Sythric walked to the fire, beginning to carry a conversation. They looked like they would get along well together. Meghan was fussing about Brand’s wounds, and the adventure of the cat they had met was being explained. Fion sat by the fire, and she couldn’t tell what he thought of everything. Eostre stood by her horse, and before Athwen had decided if she should approach her, Fion addressed her. She looked away.

Her eyes traced the trees and bushes towards the river. She remembered, as she looked, having seen Vaenosa and Osmod both head off from camp in that general direction. Briefly she wondered if they had met up with each other and how Osmod would have gotten along with Vaenosa. She sighed and looked back at the people near her.

‘Dorran,’ she said, walking forward suddenly. She knelt beside him. ‘I have absolutely nothing to do,’ she told him, holding out her hands, palms upward, ‘Can I help you? I desperately need something to do to keep my mind from working too hard.’