Hardly the perfect morning to start out on a mission, but it was the only morning she had at hand. Rain was coming down like a multitude of waterfalls hovering above Archet. Ducking under the roof of the small stable in the village, Sybri slid the fletched end of the arrow out from its hiding place in the bedroll. She then cut off one of the fletchings from the arrow using her the dagger she had sheathed to her side. Without having to show the entire arrow, thereby risking exposing the secret, she intended to ask what kind of bird the feather had come from of Darren Mills, an expert hunter and trapper residing in Archet. Perhaps that might giver her a clue who this shadowy archer might be.
Ash was floating in the puddles all around Archet. As Bri walked across the yard to the trainers cottage to find Darren, it stuck to the sides of her boots like blackened harvest mites. Once stuck on leather it leaves a stain which is difficult, if not impossible, to remove. Entering the little cottage, she found Darren and a few of the other experts, sitting near the hearth discussing whatever experts discuss. Each greeted the young woman, whom they all recognised now but only Darren knew her by name.
Requesting respectfully, the young hunter asked to have a moment of Darren's time and he agreed. She showed him the feather fletching, asking if he knew what bird it might have come from. After careful inspection, the renown Archet hunter told her all he knew was whatever bird it had come from, was not one that was native to the Chetwood and nearby forests.
Sybri frowned slightly in disappointment but then thanked the man for his help. As she was about to leave the cottage, Darren suggested if she really wanted to know, he knew of a woman named Gaellant that had a reputation as an expert fletcher. Last he had heard she was currently residing in the settlement of Esteldin. Thanking her friend and mentor, Sybri left the building and as she made her way back to the stable, she decided that she would set out for Esteldin. She had never been there, but knew there was an old road that led out of Trestlebridge. The torn and worn fortress was built upon the town of Dolindir, hidden within a great rift in the Kingsfell mountains, at the centre of North Downs. It is reached through only two narrow trails, one to the west and one to the east. It was going to be a good few days ride at the least. With the rain, it could make the journey a little longer.
Monk, being the good old boy he was, never let out even a grunt in complaint about heading out into the cold deluge. Sybri and Monk arrived in Esteldin after a long, rainy, muddy three days ride, both horse and rider soaked to the skin, tired and hungry. Dusk was evident by the sky when they first trotted into the settlement. Bri felt as if every pupil in Esteldin was focused on her, which likely they were. In short order, she found a stable hand and made arrangements for her beloved horse to be stabled over night. Not wanting or willing to waste much time, the young woman asked the stable hand if he knew of Gaellant. He replied, in an accent that was strange to her ear pointing toward an interior courtyard, telling her to check there in the morning.
Morning could not come fast enough for the anxious young woman. Probably because of her youthfulness or possibly just an innate inquisitive nature, she placed herself in the courtyard near the archery range, awaiting Gaellant before the morning chirps of birds. One by one the residents and visitors to the old fortress began to appear, seemingly timed with the rising light. The more light, the more they appeared. Finally an older woman in common skirt and jacket walked toward the archery targets. Sybri rose to her feet and walked toward snooded woman and introduced herself with the politeness of a blueblood. Gaellant struck an expression of surprise that a mud and soot appointed person would posses such grace but returned the greeting warmly.
Resisting her feeling of urgency, Sybri and the older woman exchanged hunterly pleasantries. The younger woman steered the conversation, easily, toward a discussion of fletching and feathers. Producing the clipped fletching from her jacket pocket, Bri showed the skilled hunter the speckled feather, asking for an identification. Gaellant turned the feather over in her hand and her expression seemed flat to Sybri. It felt like an hour to the anxious girl but finally Gaellant told her that it looked like a grouse feather, specifically a hazel grouse. Sybri's face lighted up like a new moon then told the huntress she had never seen a hazel grouse then pursed asking where one would find them. The expert hesitated for a long while then finally told her they populate the hillsides of Emyn Uial.
Elated to be a step closer to finding the shadow dancing archer, Sybri thanked Gaellant for her help then rushed to the stable to fetch her horse. Gaellant, watched the Bri hurry off and as soon as she was out of sight, the woman walked rapidly into a nearby building. Inside, Gaellant quickly wrote out a message on a plain parchment, then sealed it by tipping a lighted candle and letting the wax harden. Stepping back into the courtyard, the woman summoned a young ranger to her, whispered something to him while handing him the message. With a nod of his head the young man, now on horseback, sped out of the west gate.
Sybri left out the same western gate, completely unaware of the man that dashed through it just moments before....
