What in sweet Akajia's name was that? Meera slammed her room door. Dust flew from the cracks in the wood. Frantically she ripped out the tie holding her braid together and finger combed the three pieces out. The oil had kept the wave steady as she brushed out her hair. It was the only thing that would calm her. Her hair brush made long strokes from her crown to the end, the fine teeth pushing against the length of her torso. Meera took her time with it and brushed it in gentle strokes, and her hair shone brilliantly for her effort. She would not tie her hair up in a braid again. In Endrykas, braids were for those of station and of purpose. Meera had no family, no Webbing... She had disgraced herself by letting herself trust. If Patros was here, he would cut off her braid. She gave a small smirk, thankful for the first time that he was in the complete opposite direction of her.
The length of her hair hovered around the leather of her belt as she regarded herself in the small mirror provided.
Did he have to know my name? She asked herself, begging she had never heard him say it this morning. If he knew her real name, it was likely to assume - even with the semblance of logic - that he knew her story, and she wasn't about to find out who was looking for her the hard way.
Scissors gleamed in her pack, as though to remind her of their use. If she really wanted to hide from her family and anyone else if they were looking for her, she should cut her hair. She would be a Drykas no longer, just a human with their horse. She shook out her hair to watch the wave dance in the air, as though she was shaking out the cobwebs in her mind, and quickly shoved her now dry chemise on top to hide them from her sight.
Why did he have to say my name? Meera fell to her bed and rested her elbows on her knees. Her face buried in her hands, and her hair fell like a heavy blonde curtain gently wafting, brushing against the floor boards. Out in the cold the wind had dried her eyes before any tears could threaten. In her room, however, no one was stopping her tears but herself. There were no further delays to her plan, she decided. Her clothing was packed with her toiletries, and she gave a small frown as she packed the candies. The pack was buckled, only to be unbuckled. The two boiled sweets on small sticks glared at her with a red and blue eye. It was really nice of Aren to have purchased her sweets.
Meera popped the blue candy on the stem in her mouth. It reminded her of the sweetness to Aren's lips.
Meera had asked Chell, the nice barmaid, to gather her tent and equipment from storage, and the woman graciously obliged.
With her cloak around her shoulders, her long sword on her hip, a quiver on her back with a bow looped around the case, she was ready to leave Riverfall. Gently she swung her pack over her left shoulder and gathered her gear in her right hand, nudging her door open. With loose hair it easily flowed around her body as she lumbered down the stairs. She stopped as soon as she could see the bottom floor and scanned for Aren. Ysane breathed a sigh of relief when she did not see him, and continued padding down the steps. She dropped her equipment by the bar and handed Chell her dues for the room.
"Will sail the Green Sea," Ysane told Chell with a smirk as she handed over her mizas. When Chell inquired where she planned to go, Ysane simply responded with a shrug of indifference.
"Follow the Sunrider," Chell told her slowly, referencing to a constellation that hovered over Riverfall. "It's safer that way, so I've heard."
Darksand was saddled and her packs hung off his flanks. He was anxious for the prospect to run. He gladly drank his water and had two carrots before he could no longer handle the wait. He reared in impatience and Ysane smiled, happy he was so desperate. It would mean he would run farther, faster.
The faster she could get away from Aren, the better. She would feel better at camp tonight.
- - -
Under the night sky Ysane stretched her limbs. Her black and tan snorted contently, perfectly lethargic for the run. Her large tent was set up, and a small fire burned in the crisp, frozen grass that her Strider lazily grazed.
The Sunrider was directly overhead. In open air, in the country, Ysane felt better. The run had helped her spirits, but her stomach still ached. With a thought that it would be better in the morning, she stripped from her sweaty clothes and climbed onto her bedroll, welcoming the night with a smile on her face, despite her prayers to Akajia for the secrets Aren knew, and who he had told.
