As Sybri was tightening Monk's girth for her ride back to Archet, Wulfthred rounded the corner of the stable. With a puzzled look on his face he asked her if she had another moment. Bri patted the old horse on his shoulder then moved closer to the Rohirrim, thereby indicating her agreement to give Wulfthred that moment or two.
"Me Lady, what exactly," Wulf hesitated before he finished his question, "are you talking about!" With clandestine like posture and speaking volume, Sybri explained to him that she had certainly figured out what they were trying to hide. Clearly Awiergan was a noble from Rohan who had been forced to leave home and hearth because of some threat of kidnapping of he or his family and Wulfthred was his armed guard! She went on to explain her quite logical conclusion by pointing out that having heard rumours of war in Rohan, no man would voluntarily leave unless he was a coward or had an extremely good reason for leaving.
Standing quite still and listening with intensity, Wulfthred allowed the young woman to unravel this closely woven secret of the two. Once she was through explaining how cleverly she had deduced their secret, the Man lifted his mouth in a soft smile. He could contain himself no longer and let out a little good natured chuckle as he said she was flat out wrong. Simply, they were caught on the wrong side of the 'map' as it were and met each other in the Bree-lands. Both, only wishing to return to Rohan as soon as it was possible, had decided to band together with others of their kin to return together, thereby increasing their odds of success.
Disappointing conversation for Sybri, she had thought it was much more exciting that they had a huge secret, but she accepted the word of Wulf upon the hearing. For some reason, unknown to her thinking mind, she believed what he said without any doubt. Then satisfied with the conversation, the Man said goodnight to her and Bri set off for home.
Monk picked up his pace as they came through the gate, knowing he was about to be rid of bride and saddle. He also knew what came next, a good brushing, a bucket of oats and a flake of sweet smelling hay. Sybri, stowed their gear in a large footlocker in the small stable, then walked across the yard toward her slab of stone she called home.
Fire made and bedroll opened, she lay back on the canvas, rolling the orc slayer's arrow back and fourth in the palms of her small hands. Who had this Man been, at least she thought it was a Man. The fletching did not look Elven, it had a decidedly western look to it. How did he dance in and out of the shadow so easily? Two arrows, shot at once, what person had that kind of skill? Where was he going, from where had he come? Why the secrecy? Looking past the lofted arrow to the stars for a long while, she made a decision.
Tomorrow she was going to begin searching for the owner of the arrow...
