Abashai rolled his eyes as the symenestra quipped his sarcastic reply. So, Widows have a sense of humor too. The benshiran saw the tree tops shake as Duvalyon descended a few branches, looking in the direction the sym indicated. The call of the man in the distance confirmed it. The girl leaning against his chest stirred at the sound of the man, sitting up as if the familiar voice had lifted the fog of her injury from her mind. "Papa?" She exclaimed weakly, looking around eagerly. Abashai steered Sus to the northwest, turning his head enough to see the symenestra drop from the tree to fall in behind them. Not more than a chime later the man's voice was heard again, much closer this time. "Mikka!?" The forest broke into a clearing, revealing a bearded man scanning the woodland's border intently. Behind him, a wagon hitched to a mule waited with two boys, one a teenager, one little more than a toddler. At the sight of the mounted man and his daughter, the man ran towards the rider. "Mikka! Are you alright, thank the gods!" He reached for the girl, whom Abashai handed down to him with care. "Careful, she has a deep gash in her side, it has been treated." Taking his daughter into his arms, the father hugged her tightly, muttering prayers, the injured girl groaning in pain and breaking into tears again. Then the man's eyes fell upon Duvalyon, and after a moment of intense scrutiny, and a suspicious glance to the mounted benshira, the stranger took a few steps back. "What is a widow doing here?" He ask warily, a tinge of threatening in his tone. Behind the man, Abashai could see the older son holding a crossbow, aimed at Duvalyon. "Stay your shot, boy," Abashai commanded with authority,"...the sym saved the girl, the stitch work on her side is his." the rider glanced back at Duvalyon, a measure of acceptance revealed in his features. Abashai's immediate suspicion of Duvalyon had abated, but the more sinister purpose of the Widow's presence in Sylira never left the back of his mind. Nevertheless, the sym had saved the girl out of some sense of decency, and for that, the benshiran gave him credit. "The wound was grievous, it will need attention, I am sure." Again his gaze fell on Duvalyon, an invitation to approach, to offer instructions and receive the acknowledgment due to him. |