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Cerwyn
Cerwyn enjoyed the rest of the story well enough, but the spell was broken. When it was over, they trudged along in silence for a time. Cerwyn’s mind wandered as she considered in turn the tale, her irritation at herself for having revealed herself, her even greater irritation at Balan for discovering her secret, and a certain level of resentment at the way he’d spoken to her regarding her secret. He kept talking about her “secrets” as if he knew better than she did, but he’d hardly listened at all when she tried to explain herself. He didn’t know her at all – who was he to give her advice?
Well, she had been doing just fine before he came along. Hadn’t he said, too, that he never stayed in one place long? Likely she would never see him again after a few days. The thought made her feel slightly more agreeable.
She walked with her head bent against the ongoing drizzle, but at some point she looked up and saw a rocky ridge rising before them. It might be pretty, she thought, in more pleasant weather. Now, though, a few ugly, half-melted drifts of snow were still clinging to the earth, and the low-lying fields around them were beginning to resemble small ponds. Rain ought to make the land feel clean, but instead it had created a dreary, muddy mess.
The road was following the base of a few small hills, and as they came around a bend, several buildings suddenly came into sight – much larger than the many small farmers’ crofts they’d passed. A curl of smoke was rising from the chimney. Cerwyn’s breath caught in her throat. “Is that it?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Balan. “It has changed a bit, but it is much as I remember.”
With their goal in sight, their pace quickened. When they drew near, Cerwyn said, “If I know my brother at all, he will be in the stables. I would look for him there first, but I will see you inside, I suppose.”
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