The night seemed to drag on for Jeanne Marais as she took her turn at watch for the night. Everyone else was asleep and for the moment, given a break from their recent troubles. Jeanne picked up a rock from the ground and move it around between her fingers and tried to fathom how they wound up in this situation. What gave her an uncomfortable feeling was not knowing where exactly they arrived to this moment, and if there was some way this could’ve been avoided.

She turned her gaze upward to the nocturnal heavens and watched as the stars slowly moved over her head. She wished it was possible to soar amongst the celestial seas and put this whole quagmire behind her. But chances were this would only provide a brief reprieve from everything. Perhaps if she had not ran away for so long, this would have all gone away well before things came to a head.

For three days the mercenary company she founded with her sword brother Kveldulf Einarsen and the Felidan Cid, The Wolves, had been on the hunt for the Margrave Bellem, lord of the city of Inderawuda, protectors of the surviving members of the Kolville Gang, and absconder of an ancient and an ancient vampiric relic of terrible power. If anything else was added to the man’s list, he would need a proper herald just to recite the list with the flair its due.

Jeanne chuckled at the thought. It was the first time she had let herself enjoy the ludicrousness of the whole affair when given a second thought. Her revelry is broken as she hears a sharp snap of a twig and turns to the direction of the noise. Her eyes peering into the darkness slowly adjusting to the diming light.

“It’s a deer,” Jeanne heard Maeryn, their elven archer, say. “Probably a fawn, I’d suspect.”

Jeanne nodded before taking a deep breath. “I doubt that would be much of a threat.”

“If I ever saw a fawn get violent, I’d go back home and call it a day,” Maeryn said, here eyes still closed as she laid down on the earth.

“At this rate, that may not be entirely impossible to see.”

“You say another word to conjure that into reality, and I will hurt you,” Maeryn said, chuckling sleepily.

“Yeah,” Jeanne replied, looking back into the fire. “That’s fair.”

“How much farther do you think we have until we’re at the next town?” Maeryn asked.

Jeanne shook her head. “I don’t know, probably another day’s march, at least, until we’re in the Meadowlands.”

“I like that name,” Maeryn said, turning over to her other side. “The Meadowlands.”

“I was there a few times, when I was a child. It’s a gorgeous place. I think you’d like it.”

“How so?” Maeryn asked, lifting her head up and turning towards Jeanne.

Jeanne shrugged, turning her focus to Maeryn. “I just thought you were the type who enjoyed idyllic farms and the like.”

Maeryn looked out for a moment before resting her head again. “You’re not wrong.”

Jeanne turned to see her friend, and a man she considered kin, Kveldulf, stirring in his sleep. She walked over, taking a knee and nudged his shoulder. “Uh, wha?” he said in a groggy voice.

“You seemed to be having a bad dream,” she said to him.

“I was?”

“You looked it.”

“Oh,” he said, surprised. “That’s odd.”

“Why?”

“Cause I was having a pretty nice dream.”

“Oh, sorry about that.”

“It was starting to get boring. The shoppe was closed for the night, and the children were getting dull and smelly.”

“I’m not even going to ask for context.”

“Don’t, I was in it, and nothing made a damn bit of sense.”

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“For what it’s worth, it’s your turn on watch.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“In that case I should probably not go back to the shoppe.”

“I hope the mistress of the house doesn’t mind.”

“Well, she was talking backwards again. So, I think it was time she took a break from the hustle and bustle of it all.”

Jeanne furrowed her brows, giving Kveldulf a concerned look. “Again, not going to ask for context.”

***

The Wolves journeyed up the Northern Road, through a quiet forest littered with pines, elms and yews. The morning dew dissipating in the light of the sun began to release a tranquil scent in the air of grass, leaves and earthy bark. Birds chirped and tweeted in a delightful chorus with the sound of rustling leaves conjuring a soothing ambiance all around them.

Rays of the sun poked through the canopy of trees, illuminating the forest below. Jeanne turned to her right and saw a small fawn darting through the forest. She smiled, wondering what it would be like to run through wood and grasslands without a thought other than what was needed in the moment. No kings to serve, no wars to fight, no one ready to stab you in the back to put themselves in a higher position of power.

Part of her considered the idea of racing into the forest and explore the wildlands like she did in her youth. But she knew this wasn’t possible. Not while the hunt was on. And a cold thought began creeping in from the back of her mind. She was a wolf, a hunter, and whatever freedom she saw in the untamed wilds, there was the undeniable truth to the presence of death at any moment.

She her shoulder being nudged, turning to see her partner, their doctor and necromancer, Leonidas next to her. “You all right?” he asked her.

“Yeah, just thinking.”

“Anything particular?”

“No, just thoughtful wanderings.”

“Hmm,” he said, rubbing his chin, “I’ll need to remember that phrasing.”

“You can use it, but it’ll cost you,” she said coyly.

“You would do that,” he said, grimacing out of the corner of his mouth.

She softly punched his shoulder. “Oh don’t be like that.”

“I think you dislocated my shoulder,” he said, rubbing his shoulder and playfully wincing.

“I could make you of it.”

“I’ll respectfully decline, thank you.”

“Always the adventurous sorts.”

“I leave that in your expert hands.”

“Maeryn,” Cid, said, riding at the front of the group, the elven hunter nudged her steed up to the front where them.

“Yes?” she asked him.

“I think I see our village, mind taking Sil and Ben and scouting the place out?” he asked her.

Maeryn nodded, “Of course,” she said as she rode out before them.

Cid turned back to the others, spotting their scholar, Silvius, and sellsword, Benkin. “Sil, Ben,” the Felidan called out, “Keep Maeryn covered while she scouts out.”

Both men nodded and nudged their horses into a cantor behind the archer as the others reached the forest edge and reached the outskirts of the vast fields of the Meadowlands. Pastures lined with borders made of wattled fences, grass marked boundaries and the occasional resting rock. Some of the sectioned off parts held sheep, goats, cattle. Chickens ran around areas near their coops, with geese squawking loudly in the distance near their own small hovels. Gabriel, the recent addition of the company and their sole vampiric member, looked down at the rock through the thin eye slots of the mask she wore over her face.

“What is used for?” she asked.

Jeanne turned. “It’s just a way to determine borders and such.”

“Like I get that,” Gabriel replied, “but what keeps farmers from harvesting past this point?”

“Fines,” Jeanne said, “Exceptionally steep fines.”

“Well, that’s a fine response,” Leonidas replied, immediately smacked behind his head by Jeanne. “That was a good one and you know it.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Jeanne said, “and you know it.”

“That’s enough,” Cid said to them both. “I don’t want us to bring anymore attention than we need to.”

“Should we be going by any aliases?” their archivist, record keeper and sword singer, Hypatia asked.

“Have something ready, but let’s not feel the folks here are ready to turn against us.”

“Because the people of Inderawuda were most hospitable,” said Kveldulf.

“It was only one who sold us out,” said Jeanne.

“Wretched witch,” said Gabriel. “Saved her kin and this was how she repaid the kindness.”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if she was the one who killed her son,” said Cid.

“You think a mother would kill her own child?” Hypatia asked.

“Not the first time kin turned on kin, and we still do not know the full story between her and her child,” Cid said.

Jeanne was silent. She knew of families turning on their own, seen it when she was The Cold Company. But this seemed to be something she equated to the nobility. The pursuit of power for power’s sake over any bond of fellowship. She always found it ironic how those who felt were graced with such positions of status and prestige were so quick to return to the ways of animals to tear away at each other.

Such things made her appreciate her origins. Far away from the depravities of the self-titled betters of society. Jeanne knew the failings of people existed in all echelons of society, but it seemed to linger with greater effect with those who composed the nobility. Almost to the point where she would think such things were spawned from an unnatural origin.

She felt a sense of lightheartedness as she looked over the seemingly limitless fields of wheat and hay stretching out over the horizons. She could even smell the scent of the crops as they neared the point of being harvested. It seemed even the animals residing in the nearby farms were exuberant as the energies of the world filled their spirits. For a moment she considered what her fortune would’ve been had she taken the plough and the hoe and farmed the earth like her father and mother and those who tilled the soil before them.

She knew flights of fancy when they came, and how the call to wander was a far stronger siren song for her. And the sight of thousands of such farms as a guest drew she heart than to stay at one and be its guardian and lord.