Stories from RhyDin & The Rings

(Posted: Sat Jul 23, 2016 6:32 pm)

She was to her people one of the Hei'Kor. The Hei'Kor were without a clan. They were claimed to senseless, without order, without a tent or home -- lost. Even amongst the savages of Llothgar, there were rules, order, and a steep expectation for tradition and ways to be followed.

S'jira was Hei'Kor. She was lost.

A year's time had passed without word to anyone in RhyDin. The night she had left was one when Se'vrasi -- s'jira's sister -- made herself known in the Riduen (RhyDin).

The small one knew that time in RhyDin and Llothgar passed differently from one another. She and Panther had found that out together. She had found that out once before. But for the s'jira (little flower), it was only the third time and she had never intended to stay in Llothgar the night her sister came for her.

It was almost a full year gone from the lands of RhyDin. S'jira struggled to forget them. But in the mix of them were wonderful days of food, dance, ne'habrok (after-hunt), gathering of supplies, exploring, and more. But the trials faced when visiting the Hel'Murein, the Northern Tribes in Llothgar, would leave her as skittish around any warrior for the rest of her days.

Llothgar was her homeland and Se'vrasi (fire flower) was her blood-sister, but s'jira found that she was a stranger amongst all of them. She had tried, but failed, not to seem such a foreigner. But she had been too long in RhyDin and has many of their ways about her.

(Posted: Sat Jul 23, 2016 6:32 pm)

When Se'vrasi returned to her to RhyDin, Se'vrasi had chided her. "This is your home, s'jira? Living almost like the plaejron (tree people)? It is not high enough or clear enough for protection. Where are the men, little sister?"

S'jira looked to her and offered her the respectful of a younger sister to her older one: her left hand spread fingerstips out against her right shoulder where a pitcher or bucket might often be seen carried there in Llothgar. "It is a good place, Se'vrasi..."

Se'vrasi made a derisive sound. "You think like a newborn, s'jira. You always have, but you get worse with age. Toothless and your blade has a broken tip."

The insult was not missed by s'jira. Her heart ached because of it. "Sister, do you hunger?"

A growled breath was exhaled by Se'vrasi. S'jira watched her drop down from her own horse and land easily on her booted feet without trying to hold onto the saddle. Se'vrasi wore a blade warrior's outfit of soft and hard leather. A cloth fastened over her left ear was tugged down so that her face was visible and so that the breeze could touch her face. She was a strong woman from Llothgar and carried herself with pride. Her horse was left where it was, leaving s'jira to tend to it.

"You mentioned you salted and stored meats and wax-sealed jugs of rice." It was not a question. Dinner was wanted and she put her command to the smaller woman. Blood or not, they each knew who was in charge.

S'jira hurried to see that the horses were taken to the small barn. She was shocked to find feed, fresh water, and hay already there. It left the small woman to wonder who had come to care for the place in her absence. Eyes the color of a raven's wing looked towards the yard, the coral, and small meadow beyond it.

(Posted: Sat Jul 23, 2016 6:49 pm)

When the saddles were put away and the horses given feed she brushed them down until twigs and else were out of their mane and tails and their coats shown. Her heart hurt that her sister saw her in the way the others had, but it was to be expected. She was one of the lost, not fitting truly with the Llothgarians. Any of them. A breath was pulled into her lungs and released in the form of a sigh. It was truth and to be expected, but a heart and soul still ached over it.

She hastened her pace to show self in the old woodcutter's cottage. She saw that Se'vrasi had took it upon herself to light oil lamps, candles, and the hearth as well as to throw open the window of the room that served as both a gathering room and a kitchen.

It seemed that by the time 'jira had made it into her little home, Se'vrasi's mood had softened a small measure. She did not spew any more insults at her little sister from where she sprawled in the thick, wood chair that was covered in animal pelts.

"What have you learned, s'jira? What comes from your visit to what was your home and is not only mine our Sha's (mother's)?

She pulled her hair back and tied it off with a strip of leather. S'jira did not answer her immediately. If the food was not started with cooking soon, there would be more than sharp words from Se'vrasi. The warrior wore more than a few blades on her person, some visible and others not.

(Posted: Sat Jul 23, 2016 6:54 pm )

The cloak of hers was short, simple brown and already hung up on a wallpeg next to the door's way. Bare feet padded over the stone flooring of her home to leave the section of the room on the right to stand in the area that served as her kitchen. Small barrels lined a few of the stone and wooden shelves. She went through a few of them before starting the meal.

Darkness had fallen and the breeze making its way into the humble cottage was a relief to be felt.

"It was learned there is a hatred for..me there."

Se'vrasi narrowed a look on her sister. She knew what s'jira had been and knew that this was more evidence that she had changed. No longer sharl'shan (slave) but freed. "No, little sister. Not hatred. You are cold lor (boar) or varu (sweet pudding). It is never as good as when they are hot. You do not have your... your ..." She sought the word in Common Tongue and spat it out in her own. "...se!"

Her head lowered to understand all that her sister was saying. S'jira had lost the se (fire) she had once had when serving in Llothgar. "The fire was felt along the way."

"Along the way. No, little sister. You are not hated. But you do bring...disgust. I have not seen the fire in your belly since Kiroth."

"Those are not true words, Se'vrasi. It has been felt since. Your eyes have not been on ...on me in these lands."

The warrior snorted at the smaller woman. "Doubtful it was anything to compare to Kiroth. That was a blade wielder, a blood warrior."

It seemed that her head had not lifted since the two sisters had started their journey back to RhyDin. "Cheese?"

Se'vrasi swung a look her way and narrowed an eye.

"Cheese." 'jira repeated. "Do you want some with the meats and rice? There is no bread or fruit. No nuts." She had been gone too long to expect to be able to make a full meal for her sister. There were not enough supplies in the home. She saw her sister throw a negative wave at her on the air.

(Posted: Sat Jul 23, 2016 7:13 pm)

Despite the cutting of the words, she knew that her sister meant well by them. She only wanted to see s'jira better and stronger. Alone and barely practicing the ways of any of the Llothgarians made Se'vrasi's stomach knot and twist. She hated it.

It took some time for the long grain rice to cook. In that time, she pulled some meat from the heavily fatted and salted down barrel that had preserved it well. Some might not have cared for it, but she knew that Se'vrasi would. Or, at least, she hoped that her sister would. It tasted similar to lor meat. A heart hoped that it only reminding her of lor and not truly being it would not upset her.

S'jira put the meat into a pan and started to wipe the grease and fat from her hands and fingerstips. "You did not say in travels if your heart is tethered to another, sister."

She saw Se'vrasi's gaze leave her and turn to look at the simple hearth of stone and wood. "There was one. He found that more lands and horses could be his to bond to another."

That her sister had allowed anyone atall near enough to her to allow the knowings of her heart surprised the small woman. Carrying the cloth with her, still in hand she knelt to the flooring nearby and watched her and waited for the food to cook. "Did he bring fire or stone, sister?"

"To my heart?" She looked down to where s'jira was sitting on the flooring not far away. Her shoulder lifted and fell with a shrug. "Fire for two years. Stone fell after that."

"There is sorrow to hear this, Se'vrasi. Truly."

Another wave of her hand was a s'jira. "We won't talk of it and I won't tell you to bind yourself to another and have children." But she paused before continuing. "Why did you accept your freedom at the hand of one of these Riduens?"

"There is -- was a great love for him, sister. He brought to this heart love, safety and happiness."

(Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2016 8:02 am)

Se'vrasi eyed her a long time. "You should not have allowed it." The woman's face and gaze turned away from her. She was not bitter. In fact, by her tone, she really wanted better for s'jira. "I return to Llothgar in two day's time. Will you return with me?"

S'jira already knew her answer. "It is thought better not to, sister." Hatred or despised, a heart did not like the thought of her own peoples rejecting her for slipping away too much from Llothgarian ways and traditions.

Se'vrasi took another long look at s'jira. She said nothing for what seemed a half-hour's time before she planted her booted feet on the flooring and leaned forward to look at the smaller woman even closer. S'jira saw the a hinting of a dagger sticking out of one of her boots, mud, and a dark, reddish splatter of something else that looked like old blood on the leather straps. "You speak your words like you are certain, s'jira. As if you mean never to return home...ever."

A small hand of hers moved over the skirt of her soft-leather hem belonging to the traditional garb of her people. Except for three things about the dress, it could have belonged to any number of Llothgarian women. The particular cuts along the edge of short sleeves, cross-stitched pattern of the seams along the dresses' left side of its waist-strip, and the three-petaled flower worked leather against leather near her right shoulder (the mark she put on all of her dresses and tops.

"It is decided, sister. These feet will never walk the plains again. These eyes will never see its trees or great mountains. And its water, sun, and air will never again be known to this form."

Se'vrasi hissed and scowled at her and was on her feet. "Pel! (child)" S'jira's home was like a little cage to the animal that raged within the true Llothgarian woman. "Pel duranta (toothless). In these lands, you have been too long. Around these beasts and creatures with their water-wine, sweets, and soft beds!" She stalked to the last window in the little home and threw it open.

(Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2016 8:39 am)

Rain had started to fall and she audibly breathed it in. She suffered to stay inside of buildings too long, whether it was in foreign lands or her homelands. Heels of her hands pressed against the rough window sill as she thrust a sharp look back at s'jira. She found her still kneeling comfortably by the dying fire and shook her head to rid her hair out of her face.

Pel duranta..? The insult at s'jira was voiced but it was tinged with less anger. "Kiroth is dead and your heart died? What happened, sister? You speak nothing of the change. You served with fire in your belly and fierceness in your dances. These eyes saw you dance for the mountain people. I thought they would dagger you before you were finished! Cold is not fire atall, sister. And not Llothgarian!" She did not shout that last word but threw it on the air with a bit of force and a fist pressed against her own chest, directly above her leather-clothed breasts.

"Fire is found where there is kindling and else to spark such, sister. It was felt a few times." S'jira's voice was a pained whisper. Surely her losses were all her own doing. She knew well the words of her sister's were truly spoken. Her fire had been tempered to the point of almost being gone completely for a very, very long time. "But this heart is not dead, Se'vrasi. It beats, just not as strongly as it once did. To serve was good and glorious. It must be known the truth in this. Your words are well and true, but not whole. Love was known and felt."

S'jira was upon her knees to pelts hearthside. It was as comfortable as sitting in a chair for anyone else. She gave into a single rocking back to gain her small height, bare feet and stand to that delicate height of hers. "Purpose is important as well." She dared to meet fingerstips with her sister's arm where numerous scars were. Her sister did not hide them but bared them proudly.

"Mending, scaling and barreling fish, aiding with cleaning rooms and helping in so many other ways are purpose here, sister." Words failed her for a breath's time or more, then she continued as she slipped away to see to the cooking food. "Kiroth is dead. Panther is gone -- to where... a heart does not know and he is feared long-dead after so long a time. You know well that words in kind have been spoken of the Ranger, the Smith..and Peredhil. And you know that what these words say is truth. Always. So your ears and heart should know that this last visit to Llothgar has perhaps stolen away any last chance at a heart healing from the loss of Panther and the company of Peredhil." S'jira knew that she had lost a few to her heart by her own doing. Frightened, not within the current realms, and other happenings that had been beyond her control? it was still all her doing. The small woman took the blame and seriously so into her very heart.

(Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2016 10:55 am)

Hands met s'jira's shoulders briefly. Blood-sisters were precious and even Se'vrasi was not as cold or such full of hate as she would have the smaller woman belief. "The horse is a strong one." As close to a compliment as she would ever give.

There was a small and growing smile to hear that. "It is thought so too. Thanks is given.." Trygg was a strong and beautiful black horse. He had carried her and supplies for them often. "And can run as if like the wind!" S'jira laughed aloud. Even she knew he was not that fast, but it felt to her that he might fly at times with the way he ran unrefined.

"Pel..." Se'vrasi chuckled at her and hugged her tightly and briefly. There was no question that the woman loved her sister, she simply had very different ways of usually showing it. "Get him a mate. Younglings from that animal will be worth many pelts and much food." It was more than logical and worth for a Llothgar was often in the livestock they owned. She wanted to see her sister better standing than she was and had been.

S'jira blinked and smiled at her. "That has not been thought of. Yes." Agreeing with her to breed Trygg with another to sire other strong and beautiful horses such as he was. The hugging from Se'vrasi had eased her heart in the wake of much of her sister's anger. She could not go home again without risking harm and would not go back to risk pain of being an embarrassment to her sister and others there. The small one knew better.

Gaze spent from the swarthy-fleshed sister of hers to the humble dwelling of her home. It was hers and she would enjoy the area and land it stood on. The water streaming not far, the trees, the meadow, and all of its animals kind to fierce.

"And why do you wear your hair like this?" It was clear to s'jira that her sister had been wanting to ask that question for months! She started to laugh and laughed some more, a warm and heart-felt thing.

"Ekost (war-braid) or zeshai (fire/sensual), sister?" S'jira could only smile and shake her head and see to dipping up the rice and salted meats. They were put on the table in the area of her very modest kitchen where no more than two chairs stood. A bladder of wine was placed nearer to the other woman. Her own mug was filled with water and the clay pitcher was put aside for later.

Se'vrasi narrowed a left eye at s'jira and laughed aloud. "A war-braid is not for you, pel. Ever." She laughed some more just to think of s'jira in a single, tight war-braid that spoke her want for blood-letting of an enemy. No. That would never be what s'jira was, no matter cause or circumstance. The warrior leaned in and planted an elbow against the table. She picked up a few more slices of the meat from the platter. What the girl had given her was not enough to feed her appetite. One of the piece was used to point at s'jira. "But a zeshai? Hmm. Kiroth would have known." She chuckled knowingly and chewed on the meat, grinning.

(Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2016 11:38 am)

S'jira shifted uncomfortably in the chair that sat across the table from her, but she smiled. There was no lie in this. To call upon Kiroth's favor, it had been a must for that request to braid ones hair in that way. Without thinking of the action, touch was at the right side of her hair and cheeks warmed. Then she shook her head and pushed her hair back over that shoulder. "A very long time ago to think on such things, sister."

"Not too long ago. You are not old, s'jira." A snicker and a scoff at the mild woman. She looked at her with a moment of a fleeting frown. "But your fires are not there. I talk to the clouds." Her meaning was clear to s'jira that her sister meant that she was just repeating herself and changing nothing.

"Perhaps one day." She promised her nothing, but glad to see her sister smile and to hear her laughter, she smiled too. Though her next thought was a touch more serious. "When you return, will there be more meetings with the mountain peoples?"

A certain, definite sound was in her throat while she still chewed on the meat. Her hand took the wineskin by the throat of it and unstoppered it, then drank from it to wash down what she had been chewing on. "Two moons from now. No more. I will arrive early so that they will know I am there." Presence amongst the Llothgarian, no matter what tribe, tent, or group was always important. To surprise another Llothgarian, even a slave, was to risk having ones throat cut. And that brought another thought. "I will come here again."

Eyes the color of a raven's wing lifted from watching her own plate. "Your words say your heart is willing."

"I am. You do not have many good things here. You need lor, not whatever this is, s'jira." Se'vrasi was still in her lean against her side of the table and spoke between bites. "What else is needed that you didn't bring back with you, sister?"

For a time, a long while it seemed, she was quiet and ate her food. There were many things that came to mind. Some were nudged away and others stayed. "Some tau reed for weaving mats....orcul stones..."

"You need heating stones?" Nodding she listened and continued to eat.

"Yes, for hurting muscles." The small one labored much on the docks to help out and many had no knowledge of it. "Seeds for kura and istren..." S'jira murmured out the thoughts about the healing plants. Only a couple out of so many that could be used there.

Se'vrasi stopped chewed. She knew what the plants were for. She then dug about in the pouch, one of many, that hung from her belt and put a small vial on the table. It was made of stone and corked well. "kura.." And motioned for her to continue. She surely needed many things that could not be found in RhyDin atall.

(Posted: Sun Jul 24, 2016 12:09 pm)

Cheeks deepened their already tinted hue, growing very warm to see the vial. They both were well-versed in what it was. She mentioned nothing of it and pushed on as best she could. "Will you carry letters to Sha?"

She grinned at s'jira. "Years..."

S'jira knew and gave to her a nod. "It is known. Many, many years." They both knew the woman still lived and that their Sha (mother) lived yet. But her own story had taken her away to one of the islands off of the main continent and they had not heard from her at all.

"Your words will be carried to her, s'jira." Promised as if it were a sworn oath. "That is all you want of me?"

She left her plate and drink behind to gain her delicate height. Lithe arms wrapped about her sister's shoulders and hugged her tightly, though she lacked the obvious strength Se'vrasi had. "Please forgive. Paths have unraveled and woven into knew patterns. There is hope you have an understanding of it in all of this..."

A callused hand wrapped in cloth and leather patted s'jira's arm. "There is understanding, little sister. On some things. I would have liked to have seen you bonded to someone strong and met my blade with his to know it well for you."

She brought a kiss against her sister's temple, hugged her again and loosed self from her. "There is more meat to be had" Laughing gently as she shook her head just a little at her sister's one-path sort of thinking.

"I will leave soon. Think on it more so I know what to bring on my return to this...place." Se'vrasi's nose wrinkled along the bridge of it as if she has smelled something foul. She made a show of shrugging off the woman's affections, even though she truly did not mind them. Then waved her back to her own meal.

The wooden plates and her own mug was taken from the table and washed. Unobtrusively, her back was turned to the table. "Eyes saw that blood is on your boot...may it be known what happened?"

Fire-Flower smiled to Little-Flower, though she could not see her well enough it might have been heard in her voice. "You are not completely blind, little sister." Proud of s'jira, she continued on without a breath taken. "Av Ta'Jan happened. When she claimed the one that was mine, it was my place. It was my right."

S'jira stole a curious look over her shoulder. Av Ta'Jan was a strong woman. Her blades had known many victims and even she had heard of her.

Se'vrasi grunted and waved at her. "She lives." Then grinned devilishly. "But she is healing from a scar that will remind her of what she did."

It was a certain way to label a woman who stole a man. But a true man was never stolen at all. They both knew this to be true. It has angered Se'vrasi at first, but she was better after that anger had found an outlet, exacted upon the thief.

"A good scar, s'jira." She nodded a couple of times, proud of self and the outcome. There was no place for such a man at her side after that but she would keep them both reminded of it with that scar until their dying days.

"Most fierce, sister." It was thought aloud and marveled at. She would never have such courage or strength nor would she have wanted to bring harm to another.

"It was my right." Repeated as she reached for the wineskin.

"And it is ...mine to suggest sleep, sister. The journey was long.."

Se'vrasi eyed the smaller woman. Perhaps it was because she was tired but hadn't thought there was evidence of it on her. "You are right, s'jira." She stood and glanced about, then yanked the door of the tiny, old cottage open. ?I will sleep with the horses.? For her, it was natural to be near the horses and very unnatural to sleep indoors. She hated such ways.

(Posted: Mon Jan 15, 2018 1:44 am)

The door thudded closed, flush with its framework. S'jira was smiling by the time it was closed. She had missed her sister, in all of her steel and blood-letting ways. She was definitely a fire-flower, leaving behind a burn when touched...if that was her desire.

The small one smiled yet, gathering up a blanket. In the last few months, she had grown accustomed to sleeping on the furs within the long-houses and tents. She would do so again. A least one more night. Before the dwindling fire hearthside, she eased self down and curled into comfort there.

There was much for the doing the next day and rest was greatly needed. If the gods allowed, that rest would come without bad thoughts or dreams.

The small one had been seen in the city of RhyDin for weeks. She had been within the world and realms for months but had kept herself to the home she had in the woods to the north, beyond the walls of the great city.

It had taken her a very long time to heal and gather the courage to return. Small feet carried her and a heart and soul of a warmly burning fire were once again with her. For the first time in a very long time... she made her way back into the most familiar Red Dragon Inn.

She was, perhaps, amongst the few that loved strong and so deeply that it pained them for years. It took that long just to find her footing and balance again. The cleaning and mending of the inn was returned to, as well as helping the men and women on the docks with the fish.

Purpose and keeping busy has always made her heart lighter. It was no different now.

(Posted: Mon Jan 15, 2018 3:22 pm)

The small one made a way along the winding and busy streets of RhyDin. S'jira stopped along the way a couple of times to gain directions to the clinic on Kabuki street.

The black-haired woman at the Red Dragon the night before had mentioned that there ware items that could be picked up and mended.

Small feet in soft, leather boots found snow and a patch of slick ice as she turned the corner. Eyes found the clinic and a smile surfaced. She adjusted the strap of the woven basket. It was empty for now, but she would soon have it filled with linens that needed stitching and even a few others that were beyond repair but could be ripped to ribbons for bandages like the lady had suggested.

One leather strap to one shoulder and the others to its opposite. A little scrap of parchment was left with the kind person that had helped her gather up what was needed. On it was her name and the location of the inn. 'jira gave a respectful nod and a little wave directly after to a helper there and headed back the way she came. It would take a few days to complete it all, when time could be spared. A few days, no more, her little note promised.

A heart was light. There was much to keep hands busy and she was glad for it. As she turned the corner, words of an earthy Llothgarian song of a distant land full of spices, furs, and steel was sung and hummed in pieces.

(Posted: Sat Jan 20, 2018 3:04 pm)

Se'vrasi was unknown to the people in RhyDin. If her name had ever been mentioned by s'jira, it was surely forgotten by then.

She cut a look at her sister, s'jira over her shoulder. The end of long rein was used to slap against the horse's right flank. Her mount bolted forward to leave Se'vrasi's younger, gentler sister behind.

S'jira laughed and shook her head. They had been sitting atop their horses in the glen, talking of the homelands when the sudden want to run her horse had come over Se'vrasi. The day had warmed, but barely enough to keep any thought of snow away. She pulled her old cloak about self put her booted feet against Trygg's ribs and he lurched forward.

Trygg did not care if it was raining, snowing, or the heat of summer. The run was what he had been pawing against the ground for the last half hour's time. The large horse's hooves thundered against the frozen ground, kicking up clumps of dirt and dead grass that was layered with snow.

The small woman leaned a little forward, feeling his mane brush her cheeks. Trygg's long strides quickly caught up with Se'vrasi and her horse. And by the time they were near the tree that stood near the frozen little lake, 'jira was laughing aloud.

"That beast is too big for you. It's better for a gardent."

And s'jira smiled all the more at her perturbed flesh and blood who was glaring at her. "This is known, but he was a gift from Panther. Trygg is strong and never tires in the carrying of this form.." The large, black horse beneath s'jira shifted his weight, just to turn and look at the other horse. 'jira passed a tender hand against his equine neck.

Se'vrasi snorted her her. "Or something to eat."

"Se'vrasi..." A worried look touched her gaze. At times, s'jira could not be certain if her sister would do what was suggested. Se'vrasi had ways about her to unnerve the best, strongest warriors.

She dismissed s'jira's protest that a meal or more should be made from Trygg. "I will remain in these lands a while longer."

The small one looked up from the leather covered front of her own saddle. Lips parted, a couple of times before she could find the courage for the asking. "May it be known...will you be hunting here?"

To that, Se'vrasi tossed her dark, long hair that was full of braids. If anyone looked upon the women, they would never guess they were of the same blood, that they were sisters. One was fierce and could kill as well as any gardent among the Llothgarian warriors. And the other was gentle, timid, and cared too much for others to the point of putting self last in almost everything.

S'jira admired her sister's strength and marveled at some ways and unsteadied by others.

"I have already been hunting, s'jira." A grin was flashed at her younger sister and led the way from the quiet glen without any further details or explanation.

(Posted: Sun Mar 10, 2019 3:12 am)

The small one had not left for long, but if she was not truly searched for, she would not have been found.

S'jira had been permanently within the lands and boundaries of RhyDin, even if she had bee long-forgotten by some and all together unknown by others. She was a small woman, barely seeming to age with the passage of years. RhyDin had this affect on many a denizen and citizen of the vast lands and world.

Out of sight of many, she still lived in the old wood cutter's cottage to the north of the main, walled and grand city that the lands and the very world were named after.

RhyDin's two moons were bright in the cold, winter sky that night, casting ample light on the ground, trees, and any structures below. Her simple home of stone, mortar and thatch stood quiet and touched by winter's frost. From its chimney slowly exhaled the smoke of a hearth's fire.

Within the simplest of homes, s'jira rested hearthside. Pelts were strewn on the flagstones there, just short of the two, roughly hewn chairs of wood that were further made of leather and warmed with lupine furs. One the floor, on the comfort of furs she had long ago come to know, she rested on her side.

Eyes of hers were watchful of the dance of flames and the glow of embers that lay beneath the grate and burning logs. Her attire was a softleather shift, no longer than the bend of her knees. Boots had been removed hours earlier and put close enough to the fire to keep them warm and dry them from snow that had been gathered on them hours before in her walk from the Red Dragon, back to her home.

It was all together assumed by some that she had died or gone back forever to her barbaric homelands of Llothgar. Though the visits were made to her homelands, she was forever a resident of RhyDin. Quiet and still she was, whether at home, at the inn or Hall, or even at the Glad or marketplace.

Oft, she was so quiet that some had assumed the woman to be mute. That was not the case. Had any been acute enough, keen enough, it was known that much was said for s'jira without saying a word.

Too much pain and loss over the years had made the small one draw within evermore and rarely to say a word. It was hardly that of a snobbish sort or one being rude. Simply, she was a mere shadow among so many that cast forth brilliant light.

Long lengths of dark hair fell about her face and shoulders as she lay on her side hearthside in her home. A heart contemplated venturing into the great city the next day...if the weather was gentle enough to allow it without harm to that slight form of her.

Wind of the winter storm whistled through the boughs of a nearby, large tree and pushed, prodded against the walls and shutters of the old woodcutter's cottage that was hers.

Perhaps one day she would find reason and cause to bring self back into the light, into the company of others. But for that hour, after bringing in food, wood and else..she would rest until the morning's light.

Eyes fluttered everso slowly and then finally closed to give herself over to the arms of slumber.