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There was little to be done, Dorran had told her. The meat would have to be carved from the bones of the deer, but that was hardly work for a woman. He didn’t voice that thought, but Athwen somehow knew it. She wouldn’t have wanted to do it anyway. Then Sythric called them and they were introduced almost properly. She bobbed a curtsey, or something of the like, and looked him in the face. When their eyes met she saw what she knew would have to be there - pity, and maybe just a little understanding. They looked away at the same time and as soon as she knew she would no longer be wanted or needed, she turned and walked away.
There was nothing for her to do, and relatively nowhere to go. She would have offered to help make the oatcakes, for she could cook well, but Meghan already had the helping hands of two of her companions. Her eyes rested on Fion, now sitting silently, his head in one hand, staring listlessly in the fire. She wondered briefly if his head was hurting him a terrible amount and took a few steps nearer. Next she wondered what he thought about her and her companions for what they had done to him, and she took more steps towards him. Before she quite realized it, she stood by his side and he very slowly looked up at her, barely turning his head.
‘Do you mind if I sit by you?’ she asked. ‘You don’t look like you feel well at all and I thought that if you had someone to talk to, it might take your mind off things. Not that I’ll be a particularly jolly companion, like Brand or Incana, but I’m willing to keep you company if you’ll have me until dinner is ready.
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