Brand trained his brood well; so when the siblings decided to slip out from the Scuffed Boots without getting caught, they did it by scattering, some grabbing horses, others drawing attention and then shaking their tales. Once they made it past Bosfyrd proper and into the meadows and farmsteads, it was easy work to lose the pursuit. But Brand's brood wasn't interested in merely escaping. They exacted a bloody toll on their path to revenge.

By the time they'd retrieved all their weapons and equipment, those that had ditched them to get into town unnoticed, a few of the local guardsmen had sprouted feathers the hard way -- longbow marksmanship was a calling card of Brand's; the Vendish were fond of the bow, but Brand, in his youth, had been a many times over champion archer and many of his adopted children were apt pupils themselves.

The war had begun in the wheat fields and the flowery meadows, in the tall grass and along the Fool's Lake, with men and women who disappeared into the wilds like faeries and struck their pursuers with expertly placed arrows and the occasional slashed throat. 

The pursuit, after a few such casualties, slowed down considerably. They were used to much easier prey, and the locals were all too gleeful in telling the tall tales -- Emma named names, and for every named name, there was a story told -- some, such as Sigur's and Kazakh's, were downright terrifying, but others painted an unpleasant picture for the mercenaries. The villagers, perhaps, relished the revenge of telling the local garrison, bandits and bullies, just who they were actually up against.

By the time it was over, the day was receding, and Masef was bone-weary from the fighting and the movement; he was even more elusive than in the old days, as the sands of his chosen environment were dangerous and constant awareness of visibility and the ability to hide in barren terrain put him in good stead here. His throat was parched, but that was not a new sensation to him, nor was the wrung-out feeling. The hunting cabin looked like it had seen better days with little to offer in the way of shelter to a normal person, but to Brand's brood, it looked like a more than comfortable place. It also occupied good terrain -- a strategic view of the area, well-hidden. There were supplies there that managed to weather the vagaries of time and climate. 

He was one of the last to arrive, but the first question on Masef's lips were, [b]"So, has our new friend awakened yet?"[/b]