Scarburg Meadhall

[Firefoot]

As Léof strode determinedly into the hall, set on finding Athanar, he was stopped short by a sight that momentarily drove all thoughts of his task from his mind. Were Saeryn and Eodwine fighting? It certainly looked that way. Even from several yards off, he could see that both of them were drawn up tight as drums, like captains of battling armies staring each other down across the field, Rowenna and Falco arrayed behind them like their respective cavalries.

How could this be? After Saeryn had so recently and so recklessly rode out after her returning husband, this was the last thing Léof had expected. And not only were they fighting, they seemed to be bringing their friends into it as well. Léof was no expert on marriage, not even close, but even to him that boded ill. It seemed to him that a man and wife ought to settle their differences privately, yet here they were, practically in the middle of the hall, with all kinds of folk staring on. He was so surprised that it did not even occur to him that he was now one of those folk.