The Grey Tower

Shienar was colder than it had any right to be and the first snow hadn’t even made an appearance.

Owen sat on a log, huddled close to the tiny cook fire Rodric had allowed for the night. The Soldier scrubbed his hands up and down his upper arms for warmth, but it did little good. When he straightened his arms, his cuffs rode up from his gloves to expose a strip of skin to the elements. It seemed he had grown since last winter. So helpful. Thanks, body. He tried to tug them back down -ineffectual- and looked around for distraction.

Rodric sat across from Owen, humming under his breath as he ran a whetstone over his dagger blade. He seemed unfazed by the chill, a trick all Aes Sedai and Asha’man seemed to know and one Owen dearly wanted to learn. Two Shienaran soldiers stood a little ways away, top knots bobbing as they talked in quiet voices. Owen had no desire to engage with them; they knew who he was and their disdain was both politely hidden and blatantly obvious.

Valentin sat to Owen’s left, eyes gleaming in the firelight and his hand occasionally brushing over his sword hilt. It wasn’t Valentin’s sword, not the one the other man treasured. But it was a sword, and Owen knew Valentin had missed carrying a weapon. Owen also wore a blade, though he had (accurately) asserted that he was as likely to stab an ally -or himself- as an enemy if he drew it.

That thought simply served to highlight the absurdity of his presence. They were hunting Shadowspawn spotted too far south of the Citadel. Every other member of the party made sense, but Owen? He disliked weapons, had never learned to track, and demonstrated zero propensity for the flash-bang of battle weaves. My fingers are still yellow from crushing saffron for dye. For the love of the Light, what am I doing here?

His thoughts were interrupted by a stir in the shadows that quickly formed into a man with a black beard that Owen thought a small animal could live in comfortably. His name was Lionel, and Owen had not yet figured out whether Rodric had bonded him or he simply came along for the fun of it. It seemed an impolite thing to ask about directly. Regardless of bond status, the Gaidin went straight for the Green and murmured quietly in his ear.

Rodric shoved the dagger back in its sheath and straightened. “No sign of any goat-kissing Shadowspawn,” he said. “We’ll do another patrol tomorrow to be sure, but this looks like it was a bloody waste of time. Valentin, you get first watch. Wake me up in two hours. The rest of you, get some sleep.” With no further comment the Green strode a span or two away, laid down on the ground, and wrapped his cloak around him.

Lionel gave an odd sort of huffy laugh before he, too, found a place to settle. Perhaps they were bonded after all.

Owen didn’t move. There was no place to rest that would be warmer than where he sat...and besides, he wasn’t tired. “What do you think the villagers actually saw?” He asked in a low voice. “Shienarans don’t exactly spook easily.”

It was good to be back in the Borderlands. So maybe it was Shienar, which wasn’t quite home, but outside the cities and towns, outside the protective walls, they were all much the same. Autumn had yet to turn into winter and it wasn’t too cold, they were a fair distance south from the Blight so the air was fresh and clean, and most importantly, they were out there doing something more relevant than reading about the history of Tairen grain trade.

Valentin was happier than he’d been in months, sitting there by the fire, and his only regret was that Owen didn’t seem to share the sentiment. He wasn’t entirely sure why Owen had been brought along — he could think of several Soldiers who would have been more fitting for a trip to the Blightborder — but he was selfishly glad it was Owen. As different as they were, he liked Owen; it was difficult not to like him, really, with his easy manner and kind and generous nature and wicked sense of humour.

The Gaidin, Lionel, appeared from the darkness, and after a moment of conferring in hushed tones, Asha’man Rodric announced that they’d be doing another patrol in the morning. After that, the Green told Valentin to take the first watch and settled down to sleep, and the Gaidin and the two Shienaran soldiers soon followed his example. Owen, however, made no move to follow the order, and after a while, the Soldier spoke.

Valentin shook his head slightly. “I don’t know,” he said, sounding contemplative. “There’s not many things you can mistake for Trollocs. They’re rather distinctive. And big.” A bear might do it, if it stood on its hind legs, but even then a Borderlander should be able to tell the difference, and bears didn’t move in packs, anyway.

He poked at the fire with a stick, then cast a sideways glance at the other man. “Are you alright?”