The next day dawned cold. With only their wool cloaks, their clothes, and the meager remains of their fire to keep them warm, the two exiles were more than eager to get down into the forest, where they would not be so exposed and could get their bodies moving. It took some effort getting them both down, as soreness from their injuries had settled in overnight, but they were traveling through the forest in the direction of the Reinor River, munching on more biscuits and meat strips, soon after daybreak. They had decided to travel through the forest near the river, following the water south. They had debated leaving the trees when they reached the narrow grasslands that stood on either side of the river, to make use of the warm sunlight and the river’s resources, but the lack of cover when so many tribes, all of them hostile, used that same river was too great a danger. They made little progress that day, due mostly to Witheric’s unfamiliarity with prolonged foot travel forcing them to rest often, during which Restag checked for signs of pursuit or unfriendly Asgradi. Though he saw nothing, he remained on guard throughout that day and the next, only reducing the frequency of his surveys when it became clear to him that Ecthar had not sent anyone after them. There were still the dangers of other Asgradi, the possible return of the missing Oathless, and the general dangers of traveling through the wild, but at least one concern could be released.
On the morning of the third day, Restag opened his eyes to find Witheric awake before him, heating breakfast over a small fire. Though he did not have much endurance, often riding a pony to keep up with his men whenever they set out for battle, Witheric had always been one of the first to adjust to camp life, rising naturally before the sun and eagerly taking on a multitude of small tasks. It had become a source of good natured teasing directed toward the thane, calling him the camp mother, which he always played along with and so had earned the fondness of many of his men. Meanwhile Restag was the camp father, dealing out punishments any time someone tried to perform some mischief or another while simultaneously taking on more tasks than any one man knew about. As the thane and his man ate that morning, Witheric wondered what would become of those warriors now, having lost their guiding hand, Restag, how many would die under their Elders’ choice of the usurper, and what other consequences might follow that he could not foresee.
He pulled out his trinket bag, removing from it the two brooches. They were of iron, beautifully engraved with runes and shapes curling around the central animals, a crouching she-wolf for his father’s and a leaping buck for his brother’s, tokens of the beasts whose virtues they embodied. Witheric had one of his own bearing a horned ram, which had been the source of the design for his signet ring, but it had been left behind, forgotten and still pinned to the ceremonial cloak he wore when not on the battlefield. He ran his fingers over the engravings, tracing the protective runes, before finally pinning his father’s brooch to his cloak. The other he held out to Restag, saying, “Wear this. You haven’t worn your family’s raven since becoming my thanesman, and it invokes the Valaki’s protection.”
Restag stared at the token, his thoughts hidden from his face. “It was your brother’s.”
“And he will not be using it,” replied Witheric.
Looking to his master, Restag said, “And you?”
Witheric pointed to his father’s brooch. “It bears a she-wolf. Of course the Valaki will give aid to their own mounts. The runes call upon Dar himself, as well, calling for protection against the tricks and distractions of Dir.”
Restag looked back to the brooch, his hand straying to his sword hilt where had once rested a token bearing his family’s crest, a raven with bright eyes of glass, which he had left behind years ago, along with his loyalties to his family to serve the high thane and all the Eisensaet. In the end, he shook his head, saying, “It is a token of the blood of High Thanes. It is not for me to claim.”
Though he disagreed with his friend’s reasoning, Witheric nodded in understanding and tucked the item away.
Later that same day, Restag noticed signs of other travelers along their path. The marks in the earth were slight, the ground too hard from lack of recent rain and the frozen nights to retain much, and could have been from an Asgradi or some other creature that haunted the forest. They were too vague to tell. When Restag searched with his Sight, he saw nothing, but he and Witheric picked up their pace for the rest of the day, their eyes open for any further signs. A couple days later, more tracks were found, these much clearer than the last, and more numerous. Restag suspected it might be a hunting party, though what kind of creature they pursued could not be discerned, nor was it clear if these tracks were related to the ones found earlier and, therefore, if the pair was wandering in the same area as the larger group. Still Restag could see no other Asgradi or sizable creatures nearby, not even after following the direction of the tracks until he lost them a few miles away, and the forest was too vast for him to quickly search around every tree and under every bush. After a brief discussion, they decided to continue as they had for most of the day, where they would have plenty of cover, but then to leave the forest around sundown to continue a bit farther at night with the moonlight and river to guide them, allowing them to cover more ground and, if they were indeed still around, to hopefully pass the hunters as they slept.
