The wind blew a steady breeze into Guinand's face. His eyes squinted to peer farther into the distance. These tracks make no sense, he thought to himself. He looked back from whence he came, and he couldn't quite make out Stag's Rest from the horizon except for a small sliver that he understood was the highest part of the walls. The horse under him whinnied, stamped its feet, and stood restlessly. It had only been a short time ago that Guinand had set out on the Queen's task. She had told Guinand to look good, find the horsemen, and extend some invitation.

Guinand had exceeded one of the requirements. He (regretfully) had to change from his usual attire into chainmail with a grey tabbard over it. He was sure he saw a blood-stain on it too. He got nicer leather gloves, boots, more arrows, his own bow, and he even brought an arming sword on the right side of his belt. He picked up a kettlehat, and to his standards, he looked quite splendid. Almost knightly, if it wasn't for the way he slouched on his horse. Guinand admittedly didn't know how to sit properly on a horse, and as such looked more like a sack of potatoes than an actual shining knight. It didn't help he hadn't really figured out where he was headed. When he left Stag's Rest, he'd forgotten to even so much as ask the captain, or Gnarl where he'd even seen the horsemen riding. But Guinand wasn't particularly interested in appearing in front of Gnarl, so he wandered aimlessly into the distance. Somewhat looking for some tracks, and secretly hoping he'd find none.

So that was how he had spent his first few hours. Cantering slowly to and fro, feeling burdened and bothered by chainmail. It felt like it was weighing his skin right off him. But Guinand still looked; he might as well give a good show of trying to track the scouts. He did find the tracks an odd distance from Stag's Rest, and he decided to press on and see where they led. Maybe they'd feed him, he hoped. Or they might kill him, his own mind retorted. Nevertheless he still pressed on, wishing he'd been having an equally dull time in the village with the others, but at least walking. Guinand wasn't very fond of his horse. The horse didn't hold a high opinion of him either, but was presumably glad to leave the stables for a walk.

As the hours continued to wear on, Guinand suddenly realized that he'd been going in very strange directions. The tracks he followed zig-zagged, doubled over, and headed in strange directions. Curious, he thought, it's almost as though these people wanted to be lost. Now, in the present moment, Guinand was enjoying the silence for a moment. It was a welcome sanctuary from the bustle of Iron Company. He wondered what the other members were up to. Guinand hadn't really met any others, and the one he did meet wasn't very nice. Guinand halted his horse. He wasn't sure whether he should go beyond the view of Stag's Rest. He wasn't any good at combat, let alone mounted. If he got into any difficult situation he'd surely get run through.

As he came up to a forest, Guinand dismounted his ride, and tied it to a low lying branch. He took out his bow from his back. He aimed at a tree, took some steps back, and began to fire. The stress of the chainmail almost faded from his mind and he pulled back, and let loose arrows with familiar confidence. Guinand smiled. He liked this. After emptying most of his quiver, he went to retrieve his arrows. Not one had missed the tree, though some were more astray than he'd like. As he plucked each out carefully he wondered if he should return then. He wasn't sure. He mulled the decision as he once again took aim. By the time he was finished his arms were sore from having plucked the arrows multiple times, and still he wasn't sure if he'd return yet. As he thought, he heard the horse give out a startled snort. Guinand began to turn his head to see before he felt something hard hit his head. He felt sudden darkness overtake his senses as he seemed to plunge into unconsciousness.

Then... Nothing...