"Hmm hmm hmm, low low, hmm hmmmm, low oooh…"

Lyssia ignored the rider pulling up on her left. Whoever it was, she wasn't in the mood to talk to them. Her attention wavered momentarily from the bramble bush she was staring at as the offending humming grew louder, but she didn’t look up.

She had not been able to focus on anything besides the bushes hiding in the shadows of the trees since they arrived at the forest edge. Her skin felt flushed from the heat of the morning sun, and her every sense was on alert for thorn bushes. She knew executioner thorns were not known to grow this close to the forest's edge, but her waking mind was having a difficult time shaking off her dreams and the burning memory of ban-maudr poison.

She had allowed Arvid to fall back into the middle of the riding party while her eyes searched the shadows. She was surrounded on all sides by people who would steer her mind away from thoughts of the past, but she had thus far managed to avoid being pulled into conversation.

No one had attempted to broach the bubble of quiet unease that surrounded her.

No one except whoever was humming that annoying tune.

Lyssia risked a glance to the side and paused at the sight of Roakev leaning back in his saddle. His posture relaxed. His head tilted to the side, and lips pursed to start whistling. He seemed completely at peace with his surroundings, almost as if he was...happy.

She looked around to see if anyone else was taking note of this wondrous miracle.

It had been so long since she had seen Roakev like this. She wondered if it had anything to do with the fact that his father was staying back at the stead with the members of the Jarlsclan and the Dunival guests who were not participating in the hunt.

Lyssia didn't know how the decision of who would ride with the hunting party and who would stay behind was made, but Eindre had seemed a little sour-faced when he came out to see them off at the gate.

Their group was small considering the size of the peacemeet. Two dozen riders had been chosen.

The Kongr rode at the head of the party with Bjarke, followed by the five western Jarls that had volunteered for the hunt. Two of the Jarlsons that Lyssia had spent time with yesterday - tall Calvin and the heir to the Dubkir herd - were present along with their fathers.

Magnor and the five men he had chosen to accompany him rode behind the western Jarls, and behind them, Sorev and his father rode with a full two horse lengths between them and Magnor's men.

Taking up the rear position behind Lyssia was Gavin and his two friends. Sidne rode with them, although she was not dressed to participate in the hunt. She thought their position was likely for the pregnant woman’s benefit. Lyssia had noticed at the start that she seemed uncomfortable riding sidesaddle like she would have preferred to ride for the hunt as Lyssia did, but her stomach would not allow it. Her husband did not stray far from her side.

“Roakev…”

He ceased whistling and smiled over at her. “Hmmm?”

"You look like you got a good night's rest."

"Indeed I did, fair cousin. An excellent night’s rest."

Roakev looked off toward the trees, and Lyssia prepared for him to ask her the same question. How much of her morbid thoughts should she share with him?

Azerian wouldn’t have had to be told. He would have seen how distracted she was, and he would have been able to provide a good guess as to why. But Roakev didn’t ask, and after a long moment of silence, Lyssia relaxed.

“Azerian is riding with Magnor,” Lyssia noted, her eyes traveling once more over the riders in front of them.

“Magnor’s probably still apologizing.”

“Apologizing?” A weight dropped into Lyssia’s stomach. “For what?”

“He was in a foul mood this morning. Azerian and I caught him throwing a fit in front of his men. Something about a letter.”

“A letter?”

Azerian’s voice ran through Lyssia’s mind. All I took was what I thought were a few pieces of water-damaged vellum.

“And then he turned on Azerian and started yelling at him about his mask. You know the one meant to look like an imp or whatever…?”

“Red skin, black horns, blue smile?”

“With black teeth. Yeah, that’s the one.”

“Well, why---”

“I don’t know. If you ask me, they’re both finally cracking under the pressure. Or maybe Magnor just needs a good night’s sleep in his own bed. It does wonders for one’s disposition.”

“No, that’s not it…” Lyssia murmured, drawing her shoulders up and ducking her head to hide from Roakev’s curious gaze. “If he’s struggling, perhaps he needs our help.”

“Help who? How?”

“I don’t know. Never mind. Do...do you know---?”

“We’re nearing the camp!” The cry came from an unfamiliar voice up near the front of the group. A new rider had joined her father, one of the trackers he had sent out last night to set up a temporary camp and track their prey.

“Excuse me. I’m being summoned,” Roakev said, pulling out of line.

Lyssia looked up to see her father waving Roakev forward. She started to follow him, but she was sent back to her place by a shake of her father’s head.

Lyssia pulled back into place and tried to melt into the shadows, but she knew her solitude wouldn’t last. Seeing Lyssia alone, Caldin’s father leaned over to jab him in the side and gestured over his shoulder at her.

“No, no, no…” she muttered, quickly casting about for someone else to take Roakev’s place.

There were people she should spend time with, confidences she should be attaining, information to gather, apologies that needed to be made. But no one she wanted to talk to.

She had meant what she said when she enjoyed her conversation with the Jarlsons in the stables. It was an unexpected truth, but a truth nonetheless. But she was not sure that she was ready for a private conversation with one of these boys who complimented her to her face and whispered about her behind her back.

“Ughhh, there has to be another option. Another option. Another...option.”

She glanced back over her shoulder at Gavin and his wife. She had only a moment to consider what she would say as she brought Arvid to a halt and waited for them to catch up. Sidne and Gavin split and came to a stop on either side of her. Their two companions pulled up behind, eyeing her warily.

“Drottine Lyssia, is something amiss?”

“I just wanted to check on you, Sidne. How are you faring?”

She urged Arvid to continue, and the rest followed suit.

“I’m doing well. Thank you for thinking of me.” Sidne flashed a smile at Gavin, and he turned a tentative smile in Lyssia’s direction. The way to his heart was clearly through his wife’s happiness.

“I’m pleased you joined us, Jarl Gavin. But I was surprised to see, Sidne. Do you ever tire?”

“Of course I do."

Her loud laughter brought more than our pair of inquisitive gazes their way, but Sidne hardly seemed to notice.

"It was just such a beautiful day, and I’m used to riding out with Gavin. There are many things I have no skill for. Unfortunately, the hunt is one of them. But I am quite handy with a skinning knife. I’ll put my hands to good use there---”

“If you can stand the stench now.”

“Yes, if I can stand the stench. Thank you, dear. If it turns out I can’t, I’ll find some other chore to help with. As long as I can be of use, I’ll be happy.”

“I see…” Lyssia said, and she thought she did.

“And you, Drottine? Will you be hunting, or will you be observing?” Gavin asked.

“I'm prepared to hunt, but the decision is up to the Kongr. I will put my skills to use as he sees fit. It does not matter to me either way.”

Sidne seemed ready to speak before Lyssia had even finished her explanation. “Well, that makes things easier on you. You can relax and wait for your orders.”

“Yes.” Lyssia didn’t know what else to say. This was not going well.

“I sense there’s something more you wished to speak about, Drottine,” Gavin said, lowering his voice. “I heard the call. We are nearing the camp. If there’s anything you wish to say…”

“I know the time is running out for discussion, but I had hoped to start one concerning the west.”

“You wish to talk about...the west?”

“As I promised we would,” Lyssia said, meeting Gavin’s leveled gaze. “I wished to learn more about the state of the western forest. I was left with a feeling of unease after the discussions yesterday. I would like to hear your thoughts on the subject."

“On the state of the western forest?”

One of Gavin’s friends asked. He pushed forward, trying to look get in beside her on the path. As he had yesterday, Arvid refused to be pushed aside.

Arvid reached back with his head, his teeth bared, and only quick thinking on the part of the nameless Jarl saved his horse from getting nipped.

Sidne’s mare shied away from the others, jumping ahead to put distance between Arvid’s teeth and the conversation interloper.

“Sidne!” Gavin cried, jumping down from the saddle and rushing to help steady her mount.

“I’m fine. I’m fine,” she kept saying, but Lyssia could see that she was shaken.

Lyssia paused to make sure she was alright before drawing their attention back to her.

“Tell me. What is the reason for your anger?”

She knew this vehemence wasn't meant for her. She had done nothing to cause it. But neither had Sidne. She should not be made to pay for it.

“My anger? You...You wish to know the state of the western forest? It’s dying.”

“What?” Lyssia and Sidne both exclaimed at once.

Sidne regained her composure first. She took out a handkerchief to wipe the sweat from her neck and around the edges of her mask near her ears. “Gavin, I wi-ll pull on ahead. I don’t want to discuss th-this. ”

She was gone before anyone could dissuade her.

“This is distressing news. Jarl Gavin…” She waited for him to regain his seat as she tried to order her thoughts. “Do you share this opinion? Is the western forest…”

She couldn’t even say the word, couldn’t even imagine what it meant.

Gavin paused. No doubt he wished to follow his wife, but something made him stay. This conversation was important to him. He opened and shut his mouth several times in a row as he tried to form the words her needed to say. He must have picked and then discarded a dozen explanations before he finally spoke.

Lyssia had spent the silent seconds trying to tamp down her growing anxiety, and she nearly jumped straight out of the saddle at the sound of his voice.

“I don’t know that the forest is dying, but I have seen with my own eyes the sickness that spreads among the trees. It eats them from the inside out. It usually perishes in winter and doesn’t take over again until the harvest has begun. But it didn’t die last year, and this year... And the animals, they know something is wrong. They---”

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Gavin asked, turning to his friend.

“Why have they stopped?”

Gavin turned aside, following his friend as he hurried to see what had caused the hunting party to stop up ahead. Lyssia stood up in her stirrups, straining her eyes and her ears. A discordant melody met her ears, distant but growing closer. Voices raised in an old forest chant.

She had Arvid pick up his pace until she sat beside Sidne once again, her eyes growing wide at the sight of the crowd approaching from the opposite direction.

“...If you come in peace

Then here you may find kin

Beneath these shadows

No fear shall overtake you

If truth you speak

Then truth will find you…”

This was a group of villagers, not part of the hunting party. There was only one horse among them, an old nag that pulled a cart behind it. A great collection of animals and children rode in the back of the cart, and here and there amongst the crowd were other animals being herded or pulled along by rope collars. The stench was palpable.

The people were dressed as if they were about to embark on a trip to Steiner Mart and not a jaunt in the woods. Most of the villagers, perhaps anticipating meeting other travelers along the way, wore masks. Those who didn't hurried off into the woods.

Not for the first time Lyssia was forced to watch them turn their faces away from her father and wonder if it was possible that respect motivated them, or if the name 'Dizean the proud' or 'Dizean the coward' was on their lips.

The song they chanted spoke of old beliefs and truths she did not understand. The meaning behind it eluded her, but the tune tugged at her heart.

Lyssia reached back to check the strap on her mask. She smoothed the hair down on the top of her head and swung her braid up over her shoulder. Her left hand found its resting place at the base of the Drakun pendant. Leaning forward to pat Arvid with the other, she used her feet to guide him out of line.

“I’m sorry, but I should join my father. We will continue this discussion another time.”

“Yes, Drottine. Another time.”

“We will!” she called back over her shoulder as she nudged Arvid into a troy.

She had made a promise to Gavin, and she planned to keep it. She had to know what was causing the western Jarls such distress.

**********