(OOC: Went ahead and did the first post. Enjoy. =S)

Guinevere stared upon on mound of fresh earth in front of her, its damp stench wafting up to her nostrils... a dull ache in her chest. She wasn’t sure how connected it was, but along with the ache she felt her thighs weaken, and before she knew it she was kneeling in the soil with her head in her filthy hands.

Ailwin was dead. Gone from this world. The only person she knew and trusted... gone. Forever. Permanently. Eternally... The only person she knew of who knew her parents, and had protected her in the last ten years, risking life and limb for her, feeding her, clothing her, training her. Departed from the living... She’d never see his smile, or hear his voice again.

Stop it! she screamed at herself, feeling her throat expand and burn, as if she’d said it aloud. Sniffing loudly, she brought her head back up, and stared into the branches of the old oak tree she sat under, feeling slightly stronger. If Ailwin saw me like this, it’ll be cleaning the muck in the stable with me! The thought put a weak smile on her face, and she looked back down at the mound. Reaching out with her palm, she pressed into it to leave behind the shape of her palm. Closing her eyes, and opening her lips, she began to sing.

“My achievements bring happiness,
your absence brings loneliness...
It's hard not to hate what brings us apar...”

Thunder in the near distance interrupted her vocal chords, followed by insignificant drops of water. Standing up, she looked into the heavens and allowed the raindrops, which slowly began to get heavier, wash the soil and grime of her day from her face. She guessed that the rain clouds had come in from the ocean; when she licked her lips, she tasted the salt. Through her closed eyes, she saw a flash light, and knew it was time to retreat back into the cabin.

~*~

Lying naked in a tub of lukewarm water in the cabin, she watched the raindrops rampage against the window while she waited for the next pot of hot water to boil by the hearth. She let her arms float aimlessly up under the water, and then forced them down to her sides again. She could feel the current under the water against her thighs and stomach as she did so, and it felt good; a mild, pleasurable distraction from her thoughts. The most prominent thoughts that came up were about being alone, and it brought back that ache along with more tears to her eyes. Like right now...

Lightening struck. Guinevere shivered. Leaning back, she dunked her head under the water, holding her breath. What’s it like to die? Will it hurt? How long would it take? If I drowned now, how long would it take for someone to find me? She held herself under for as long as she could. She gripped the sides of the tub with all her might. Curiosity killed the cat... Rushing back to the surface, she coughed and spluttered bathwater everywhere. But I don’t want to die. She shivered furiously, and realised the water was now rather cold.

Lifting herself out, she approached the fire. Looking into the pot of steaming water, she decided she no longer wanted it. Carefully lifting it by the handle, she moved it away from the flames. That murderous voice popped into her head again, whispering ... you could always scald yourself into a deep sleep... Putting the pot down in the farthest corner from her, she began to take action. She couldn’t stay there and be alone. All that she had left was in Renais. All of her questions could be answered there by her parents. Exactly why was she sent away? Did they know Ailwin? If so, did they know he was an assassin? Why...

Rummaging through the trunk at the end of Ailwin’s bed, she found a map of the Kingdom of Magvel, which Ailwin showed her during the harvest seasons, when she had to make trips into the smaller villages alone. She traced her finger from roughly where the ranch was up to Grado. She could be there before the sun came up if she left now. She looked through the window to notice that the storm had settled down to light rain and slower winds. If the weather remains on my side... she thought. Smiling, she then traced her finger from Grado to Renais.

The smile faded. If she rode non-stop, she could make it in three or four days. She could already feel the saddle sore along her inexperienced thighs, and winced. She could stay at the few inns and taverns along the way, but it wasn’t as if she was made of money – she’d have to buy her food as it was, as taking too much with her would slow her down. I could sleep rough in the forests... I could still make it within a week. Could enjoy the ride and scenery then... or maybe work for my bed.

Excitement rushed over her. Sure, it wasn’t a solid, well thought out plan, but she knew she’d never be able to sleep in the ranch for a while, and it was better than sitting in the tub and getting lost in those thoughts. She gave the pot of hot water another look and scowled.

Going to her trunk, she took out the necessary tools and equipment she’d need if she planned to last longer than a day. She laid out her under garments and leather armour over the bed, along with her throwing knives and katanas. Guinevere ran her fingers over the smooth blades, and the rough exterior of the armour. The ache came back when she thought of Ailwin making them for her, and again when she strapped herself in for the first time without any help. She slipped the blades into their sheaths, crossing her back, and strapped the belt of knives around her slender waist.

Standing back from the bed and the trunk, she twisted and bended, allowing her body to move around inside her attire to find the best, comfortable fit. When satisfied, she began the hunt for other items she desired to take with her. Wrapping up a loaf of bread and some grapes in a cloth, she thought about taking something to wash it down with, and remembered a crate of mead bottles in the shady stable; the cabin was far too warm to store beverages that are better when cool.

She took one more look around her home before extinguishing the fire with a bucket of her bathwater. She could barely make out the shapes of the room in the darkness now. Stepping to the door, she donned her cloak, and pulled the hood up over her head and stepped out into the night.

In the stable, she took two bottles of mead, wrapped it up with the food, and slipped it into the pouch on the side of her horse’s saddle. Realising that it’d be highly possible that she’d be sleeping rough, she decided on bringing a large canvas sheet, which Ailwin had picked up for a sailor he knew, who needed to replace his sails. It already had rope running down the edges through punched holes, so it could make a good tent. She folded it up, and slipped it into another pouch.

Lifting herself on to her steed, she rode out through the courtyard. She didn’t look at the mound again, or the house. When finally out through the entrance, she kicked her horse into a gallop down the country road.

Time for Grado.