The first rays of sun hit Halla just right. The Gods let their light fall upon her in perfect clarity, just the half-light of a new day leaving shadows where they needed to be across the angles of her face, and Jorwen smiled. It was not often he got to appreciate Halla like this. The gentle rising and falling of her chest as she took each delicate breath in and out, a stray lock falling across her face, caught in her lips. It was times like these that Jorwen was a man of peace, where he wondered how he could have ever wanted a hard Name and a hard woman named Fridtha more than Halla. But youth is a time of lessons that the youthful do not yet appreciate. Halla stirred, her tired eyes opening and focusing immediately on Jorwen's own. She held his gaze for a long, long moment and her face broke out in a tired smile he wished could be painted in a locket.

“Breakfast?” She whispered.

Jorwen shook his head, giving a smile of his own, “I've already made it.”

Halla's smile only grew and she scooted closer to him to plant a gentle kiss on his wrist. Jorwen leaned down and gave his own kiss to her cheek, “Up now, 'fore it gets cold. Soveig's already eaten her share.”

Halla squeezed his wrist and buried her face in her pillow, stretching her long and lithe legs and then slowly getting to her feet, exiting the tent. Jorwen followed, gesturing to the cast iron pan next to the fire. Halla took a wood plate and forked some eggs onto it and a cut of ham. “You didn't have to.”

“I'm not one for dutiful wives.” Jorwen smiled.

“Oh, please,” Halla rolled her eyes with a smile, “Dutiful wife, my arse, I like cooking for my family. You didn't have to get up early to do this.”

“I couldn't sleep.” Jorwen said, a bit less happiness to his voice. “I... I don't know why.”

But he knew why, he spent the night with Cleftjaw when he couldn't find Solveig. They spent their night reminiscing about White-Eye and Thrice-Pierced and every other friend long gone. Dough-Boy came tiptoeing down the small stretch of path that led to his and Halla's campsite away from the rest of the Company. “Ashav's orders, report to Daelin at the outskirts of Dawnstar.”

“I'll do it when I've finished breakfast with my wife, Ashav can wait.” Jorwen growled.

“R-Red-Bear, please, you're already on thinning-”

“This isn't the first plunge into the cold water I've taken, boy. Run along, I'll be there.” 

Halla frowned at him over her eggs and ham. Jorwen sighed and called for Dough-Boy, who'd only just turned around with a forlorn look on his face, Jorwen knew the boy got the shit jobs, being the youngest in the Company and not much good for fighting, “Thank you, for yesterday. Giving Farid a respectful burial. A man ought to keep his word like you did.”

Dough-Boy gave a small smile and nodded before puffing out his chest a little. Jorwen knew there wasn't much word to keep when he was paid a gold coin to bury Farid, but he knew the boy needed some appreciation every once in a while. Halla smiled now, though he saw the sadness in her eyes. One day she'd never have to say goodbye to him so often. “Best get going, warrior.”

“I'd rather not.” Jorwen rubbed at his face. He had less and less taste for the fray as the days here in Dawnstar went on. He hoped the taste for it never came back. He sighed and rose anyway, turning up Halla's face to his own and kissing her, leaving his lips on hers for a moment and then turning away. No matter how many times he did that, she always blushed and smiled.

“Come back to me, Red-Bear.” He heard Halla call at his back, “Soon and safely!”

[center]* * *[/center]

Jorwen walked, rubbing at the ring on the leather cord around his neck. It reminded him of younger days, both in daylight and in moonlit rooms in the inn with Halla. He smiled absent-mindedly before Sevine came quietly through the trees, hardly breathing any harder than if she strolled from one end of a room to another. She reported their findings from up ahead, and Jorwen frowned, knowing what was to come. He put his nasal helm on his head and buckled the strap that kept it secure across the underside of his chin. They followed Sevine to the front of their scouting column with a quickness and found a good expanse of burned-out forest. Jorwen had seen fires before, but none of them like this, none of them so complete. This looked like man's work, like the torching of a village or a crop.

“It's too bare.” Jorwen mumbled under his breath, his eyes narrowed to slits as he scanned all that was now ash. “Man's work.”

A vulgar scream came from somewhere and a man around his own age bounded through the barren, charred landscape with what looked like an angry swarm of bees about him. He wondered how he'd managed that, until the bark-skinned, feminine forms of Spriggans followed him out of the charred treeline with a pack of mangy wolves in tow. Wolves that skinny would attack anything, he knew. The pack darted out and made for the lone man but the one closest was shot down by Daelin. He didn't have much time to watch it unfold, nor did he want to waste any time doing so. He grasped the familiar hilt of his sword and threw off its scabbard, laying the grayed metal bare.

A wolf came huffing and growling as it bounded towards him, jumping in to grasp his neck in its yellow fangs, but Jorwen let go a roar as he swung his sword in a great arc that rent the thing's forelegs from under it. It tumbled to the ground, no breath in or out as he stepped aside from its path. Something begged for him to turn and he saw Sevine pinned helplessly, her leg being thrashed by one wolf while her red arm was in the grip of another wolf's jaws. A fate like that for the Huntress just would not do. Jorwen's feet pounded under him as he charged, letting out his loudest warcry to try to intimidate the creatures and set them in a panic.