She pulled her cloak closer to her, the cold of the winds blowing from the frozen north biting through even her thick layers of clothing. Bitter winds and biting cold was the norm for Kallstad. Summer brought nothing but a mild change of temperature and a slight lessening of the winds that blew.
Which was probably why she was rather surprised an Abyssal had joined her party. While they were superb hunters, unmatched in agility and maneuverability as well as their skill in the bow, their wings were rather susceptible to the cold, and the unpredictable winds were rather hard to fly in. Or so she heard. Gretchen did not have a pair of leathery wings to put that to the test.
"Tell me, Fyarlfyre, what are your reasons to join my modest expedition in to the cold heart of the Bitewind plains? Would not your wings freeze and break should you try to fly? Or yourself hampered should you decide to walk like the rest of us?"
The Abyssal smiled at the word, Farflyer it meant, an old word for their kind. He himself had already covered himself in warm pelts, especially around his wings.
"I may not be able to fly though the bitter winds, but I assure you my skill with the bow, and my experience as a tracker and guide would be invaluable to your cause. As long as we hit the treasure as you had promised us. And call me Victor."
Treasure.... Gretchen smiled at that word. The only treasure she had promised them was the discovery of new lands, and that was written as well in the contract, witnessed by one of the Goddess' priestess, signed in blood, and copied a few times over to make sure eveyone has one for referrence.
And so with about twenty men, five barghests to pull the five wagons, and her own pet, Gretchen muttered a quiet prayer to the Goddess, and took the first steps in her journey across the Bitewind plains.
The Daughter.... the Avatar... and her old friend the Right Hand and herself as the Left. Their names were cast away as the responsibility of being the Goddess' four Pillars was put upon them.
But that doesn't mean she cannot still remember her own name, or her friend's name for that matter. Millia of the Silverbeard would give her that scathing look whenever she refered to her in her own name instead of her title of the Right Hand.
She sighed, her hood drooping as she did so.
Millia never called her Gwenyvir anymore; it was always Left Hand this or Left Hand that. Not that she didn't understand, for true names have power one would not usually expect, but still... it would be nice if the Right Hand, Millia, would refer to her as Gwen like they used to.
But now was not the time to reminisce about the good ol' days...
"Ah, Merdyr, Mhirnae di bessi!"
A fat lady was waving to her from a stall.
The Left Hand was all but recognizable in her disguise. No more was the dark hooded jacket, with its large pair of eyes on the top and three slightly smaller ones on the tail flaps, no more was the close fitting thread she had made herself. In its place she wore a simple maiden's garment of white and green, her hair done up in a ponytail, and her face markings were washed off.
In short, she looked like a normal pretty girl getting the groceries instead of one of the Pillars responsible for managing, manipulating and acting on information.
"Mhirnae di bessi, Yolda. How are the farm today?"
"Oh, just so you know, it was perfectly fine until that wretched fellow-" The Left Hand maintained her look of interest, nodding and exclaiming in all the right places. "Oh did you know? Someone managed to strip-" a slight pause as the lady leaned in closer"- our very own Daughter. You know, the Avatar's Daughter? Well apparently they even managed to get a drawing done of her. "
"Oh! That rumour! Well, I heard from someone else, that it was a fake." The Left Hand leaned in closer. "Probably some lonely fellow out there lusting after her."
Rumors can be countered with another rumor. Have enough people talking about it, and even lies become truth.
If only it was less boring and less listening to women like this talk their butts off...
The Left Hand caught the eye of a man wearing a small rose like brooch on his left sleeve. He gave a discreet nod and a smile. That meant those in the housing area was doing their work as well, spreading the lies as truth to cover up the Daughter's blunder. If all goes well, she might even catch the culprit behind it. The Forhor Natchs under her beck and call was convenient.
"Are you smiling, Merdyr?"
"Oh, I..."
"Oh, tis no shame in a bit of mirth. His was really nothing compared to his boasts I can tell you that."
She only hoped she can solve this to the Avatar's satisfaction before the Forhor Nacths were called upon for their original purpose.
Rooting out heresy.