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"Was it a dream?"

Andian stood in the forest that he had been before he was ported to that chaotic cave. His eyes seem cold and dead as he scanned his environment. He closes his eyelids and slowly pulls the brisk air into his lungs. As Andian looks around once more, he seems to speak to himself yet again. "Of what importance was this event?"

The cold breeze threatens to tug his hood away from his head. He grips it as he begins to walk forward once more. Finding a tree next to the frozen pond, he leans against it and produce from his belt pouch, a journal.

With his writing implement, Andian begins to write, 'I wonder if Mirror was right about me. Her prediction would make for an intriguing change.' He smiles a smile that seems practiced; faked. The half life grin fades with no real joy to hold onto it. 'Perhaps she is here. Maybe she has made the journey away from that absurd place. She gave much to help the people in that strange cage. The least she deserves is to have her life back, as much as it had been.' Andian pulls his writing tool back from the page thoughtfully.

'The few I'd recognized in my travels, I can only guess will be important somehow in my future. It is the way these things work. Logic dictates that I may see them all again. Possibly even those that had died there. I will need to prepare for those who may mean me harm. There were quite a few brash and interesting beings there. I will also need to find a place where I may continue my duties as a knight. It has been far too long. If nothing else, I'll be useful as a blacksmith.'

Andian let's his hand rest at his side, brushing the snow off the tree to his back. He closes his eyes once again, as though trying to concentrate. "Hmmm.....nothing. Perhaps she was mistaken."

He hurriedly writes once more, '16 miles from the last gate. Short on food. I'll spend 15 days in search of all I need.' He replaces his journal within his belt pouch and continues walking along side of the frozen lake.

The forest is still except for the cold wind blowing through the remnants of last year's tree-leaves and scattering woodland debris across the icy ground.

There is a faint scent carried on the wind, of a cooking fire and surprisingly, mint that leads to a ramshackle shack on the far side of the pond, just barely visible behind the treeline.

Andian hastened his movement toward to scent of mint in the air. His expression was one of quizzical determination. "I wonder", he said as he began to trot into a run.

As he came closer to the area of the raising smoke, he held onto the hilt of his sword with his left hand, directly over the guard. A motion that seemed practiced; cautious. Pulling the sword partially from the hanger, he seemed to make ready to draw as his speed increased.

Andian repositioned his footing as he ran in order to avoid falling. Though he continued sliding as he moved, he never lost his balance. Occasionally stepping into higher mounds of soft snow slowed his progress. In answer to the difficult terrain, he jumped higher in order to try and keep pace. This only helped in halving his speed. What at first was a heroes charge, became a tiring hurdle. Seeing that he wasn't making as great haste as he hoped, he stopped.

He inhaled slow breaths as he looked at the shack. His expression hadn't changed, yet his posture showed that he no longer felt as undaunted. The foolhardy rush towards the unknown was probably unwise. He lowered his sword in it's hanger, yet kept his hand on the hilt and started a wary stride. His lazy and steady pace guided him to the shacks door, at which he knocks loudly.

The small building is in fairly poor shape and seems as if it was once a small hunter's cabin or woodsman's shack. Dead vines hang lifelessly from the sides of the roof. There is a small pile of brush and wood near the door, under a slight overhang to keep off the wet. Farther off to the side there is a raised pile of dirt, largely covered by the blowing slow. At Andian's knock, there is a shuffling and a small bit of wood slides sideways to reveal a pair of female eyes.

"Do you mean me violence, traveler?" Her voice has a slight accent and her eyes look slightly merry, an eyebrow raised, unusual for the circumstance, flicking down towards the hand on his hilt. "Or perhaps you seek the owner of this cabin? If so, I am sorry to say he has passed into other worlds but a month ago."

"I only seek companionship for a time. This winter has left me parched for conversation." He follows her eyes to his hand, "I mean neither harm nor disrespect. One can not be careful enough in these times."

His hand twitches away from his sword, as though a last minute thought of holding his cautious posture. Finally his hand drops to his side. "I am a knight of the Frozen Way known as Andian Eannon."

His expression seems to change slightly from determination to sedate. Andian's body doesn't move, yet his eyes scan the looks of the shack. "Who are you?........Are you here alone here?........"

The slat of wood closes for a moment and there is a groan as something is shifted out of the way. The door opens and the woman stands to the side, making a sweeping gesture with her right hand. "Well then, Andian Eannon, Knight of the Frozen Way, Vane, Queen of Briars, welcomes you to this humble place and offers a meager repast and shelter from the cold in exchange for the sound of another voice!" The smell of mint is strongest here, from the doorway Andian can see a steaming beverage-pot of some sort sitting near a small fireplace, and several fish laying across the hearth.

"You do not have the look of a brigand, Sir Eannon." She says, appraising him with a polite nod. "I haven't much worth taking anyway, but you are welcome to any of it, if it suits your fancy. There are few things in this world worth dying for, none of them tangible. I would consider it a fair trade." She smiles.

She appears human enough, although there are traces of a thorn-like pattern across her face, traveling down beneath her coverings. She has a thick blanket draped across her shoulders, and her left arm appears to be in a sling of some sort.

Andian produces his practiced smile, "I am not one for simple theft. It is my duty to give where needed. I greatly appreciate your hospitality, though I do not hunger for anything, but the conversation we are having. I would think mightily of you for some of the warmth from your fire."

He seems to be searching for something within Vane's expression. As suddenly as Andian's grin appeared, it vanishes. He nods to Vane as he walks into the small building with a look that shows he doesn't feel any sort of disdain for how well it's been kept. He crouches down near the fire and slowly takes a seat on the floor.

Vane stops and studies him for a moment as he enters the small room, but the sound of the wind picking up breaks her reverie. She closes the door and pushes a crate that appears to be an old woodbox in front of it. "Company I can offer, and for free at that."

Despite the disrepair of the building, it is fairly tidy. The few holes in the wall are patched with some sort of sod and mud combination, blocking the worst of the cold. A sling-type travois rests against one of the walls and several sacks as well as some blankets.

"The spirits have been kind to you, Sir Eannon. In joining me this evening, you may share the last of this Sharp-Leaf tea, even if you will not partake of the evening meal. A delicacy from distant lands, or so I am told. A parting of the old ways and an entrance of the new. We must wait a moment, that I might more easily handle the pitcher."

As Andian seats himself by the fire, Vane reaches into a bag behind her and draws out a decorated ceramic cup and places it on the makeshift table that the beverage pot is resting on.

She shifts her left arm in it's sling, carefully concentrating on each motion in a delicate way that makes it seem less important. "I have not heard the sound of another mortal voice since well before the woodsman died and he was lacking in clarity for the last few weeks of his life, may the stars bless his soul."

A hooded, brownish puff of feathers in the opposite corner shakes itself on it's perch, so still otherwise that it might have gone unnoticed if it had not moved. Vane turns her head at the motion. "Ah, how rude of me not to make full introductions. This is Nameless, or so I choose to call her." She holds out the palm of her hand. "She is an old soul, I think. Fortunately, we both enjoy fish...otherwise I would not have the slightest idea how to feed her."

"I hope you will honor me by sharing with me the words of your self, Knight of the Frozen Way." She takes a deep breath of the fragrant steam and sighs pleasantly. She raises the cup and delicately examines it, turning in in her hands. Seemingly satisfied, she pours carefully and with some difficulty, considering her access to only one arm, but manages to do it with grace, revealing the barest glance of the underside of her pale arm. She examines the tea in the cup, which is a light brown color and takes a sip. She carefully brushes the hem of her sleeve against the rim and then sets the cup before him.

"There are other hungers, my stoic friend." She smiles slowly.

Andian stares into the fire as she prepares the tea, "mortal voice" he mimics her in a whisper. "I am sorry for the loss you've recently suffered. I am sure his essence has joined with the land, as they say. He is not alone."

As Vane speaks, Andian remains transfixed by the flame. He pulls his writing implement and journal from his belt pouch and begins writing, 'She calls herself Vane, Queen of the Brairs, this sounds similar to a fae name. She seems to have her left arm impaired or perhaps recently injured. The way she spoke to me as having a mortal voice makes me feel as though she thinks herself immortal. Mayhap she is just very colorful with her words. Either way, I will investigate more into this.'

In the background of his thoughts he registers her telling him about her friend's name and he turns slightly to wave, "Greetings, Nameless. May you have many flavorful fish." He writes, 'Her pet, Nameless, is quite interesting in it's features. It likes fish.'

"What do you mean about words of myself? Would that be that you'd like me to speak about myself?", He pauses briefly. "In that case, I can recall for you that my mother was called Alicia and my father was called Tian. I lived in a place called Dragonsteep. My father failed his dream of becoming a knight and only achieved the title of squire. This led him to his becoming a blacksmith. He felt he needed to continue toward some appearance of usefulness. I decided that I would succeed where he failed, make him proud of me. Unfortunately and thankfully, my parents weren't around to see what I've become." Andian's expression shows no emotion beyond calm during the story he expels. He replaces his writing tool and journal back into his belt pouch.

"Thank you for the tea", he holds the cup in his hand and yet does not drink from it. "Other hungers?"

A lone figure Watches Andian enter the cabin by the pond keeping an ear open for any trouble as he heads to the edge of the frozen water.

Jonathan takes a seat on his shield and props his mace against his knee, remembering those that are now gone. Donovan, Leader of the Phoenix Guard, Dewberry, the craftsman and the rest of my Ga'vin allies, Kels, the archer, and the rest of those he had fought with so long ago.

His thoughts turns towards the more recent events and of those he me in the cave. The Pikeman, that is a natural with a shieldman, the young swashbuckler that, if he can survive, shows great promise, the healer and craftsman that offer help without being asked. He gives a slight smile as he thinks of the potential and possibilities of this group if someone can pull them all together.

Coming out of his thoughts, he thumbs his pipe full and lights it. Standing, he leans himself and his shield against a nearby tree and takes in the rare view of un-tortured beauty that is the frozen pond surrounded by un-molested snow, waiting.

Vane nods with appreciation as Andian raises the cup. "If you find the taste unpalatable, perhaps you might instead savor the scent?" She takes in a deep breath. "There was a time when I found it difficult to enjoy, but I do so love the scent. The smell of the tea, of the fire and the fish...one would think the cold would numb the sense of smell but indeed it makes them stronger. A small pleasure I am grateful for."

The wind picks up again, an insistent sort of howl in the eves. "Ahh, the only voice of my longtime companion..." She says to no one in particular. "No, no...I have not forgotten you. You will have your share when we have finished. Until then..." She puts a finger to her lips. "Shhhh..."

She turns her attention back to Andian. "The woodsman...would that I had even known his name instead of laying him to rest in that unmarked grave outside. The Nameless belonged to him, I think. I am afraid to simply set her free...I hear that domesticated creatures often find returning to the wild to be a fatal prospect. We seem to get along fairly amiably and I haven't lost a finger yet. She seems to know what she is doing, even if I do not."

"You are certainly a sombre sort, Sir Eannon. Certainly quite straightforward. Do you remember your mother?" She brightens as he mentions his father. "A blacksmith! A skill of much importance and care. I do envy those that take from the earth and shape them into something of grace and use." She pulls a blanket from a nearby pile and sets it next to him. "From your tone...might it be that you did not wish to pursue the dreams of thy sire?"

Andian sits and listens to the woman for a time. Nodding from time to time to acknowledge that he's listening. He doesn't notice that she's not talking to him. 'Perhaps she's spouting poetry.' To which he replies, "You paint quite a vivid image with your words."

When she mentions the woodsmen once more he says, "I am glad you were able to give Nameless a home. Or rather, keep Nameless at it's home. Seems rather inappropriate, knowing how short life is, that anyone should spend it alone for a long period of time." Andian says this in a while staring at the swirling tea in his cup.

After she asks about his parents, he looks to the tea in his cup; deep in thought. "I remember my mother's face. Much of what I have left are memories with no sentiment attached to them. Though, I'm glad I am able to retain my past. As for my becoming a knight, I do not regret that. There are many things I've come to appreciate about it. Though you are quite astute in finding that it wasn't my first goal. I had a friend in Dragonsteep. We were going to become famous." He shakes his head, "We were to become legendary. In what area of expertise I don't recall. Perhaps it was the exuberance of youth that made us feel invulnerable."

Her cheeks glow with a warm pleasure when Andian seems to compliment her speaking by referring to her painting pictures with her words. "I was afraid that perhaps I had gone rusty after so much time without company." She moves the small slat of wood with the cooking fish on it away from the fire.

She gently reaches over and brushes a finger against the Nameless' chest and the bird puffs itself out, making a slight clicking noise with it's beak. "Some things are happenstance and others belong to the workings of fate, but I too, am glad we have met and have become companions." She reaches next to her and retrieves a clay cup, much simpler than the one she gave to Andian but obviously much more used and traveled. "A mortal voice perhaps she is not," Vane continues, looking towards the Nameless. "But comfort she has been. So strange, the birds of prey, unlike those with skin and fur. She has no mercy and her ways of affection are alien and expressionless. But I value her company and her differences, all the same." She pours tea into the clay cup for herself and inhales the aroma deeply.

Vane smiles, turning back to Andian and although it is likely he will not recognize it as such, it seems warmer and more honest when he speaks of his family and his mother. "It can be easier to live life without sentiment, which can corrupt your memories and make them more or less than what they are, and yet...perhaps to live without sentiment is to live only for the moment." She laughs a bit. "Can any of us now live further than the moment?" She looks towards the fire which is starting to burn low. "You, Sir Eannon, speak of the shortness of life...how true it is..." She sighs deeply, reflectively. "Burned out in a moment so that not even the immortal earth and stars notice our comings and goings." She smiles, a sad sort of smile and her voice lowers so that the snapping of a branch in the fire seems loud by comparison. "But perhaps even worlds and stars die."

"Everything dies. It's a part of living, everything slowly dies." Andian lets another impromptu smile form on his face for a moment.

He moves to smell the non-existing steam from the cooling tea and tries to look as appreciative as he is able. "If we were meant to live forever, we would be created for a specific purpose, I would imagine. One's permanence would become a rather dull prospect; I might assume. What makes something exquisite is the idea that it will not last forever. Such things should be treasured. Least the memory itself vanishes entirely. That is the truest torment. Not to recollect. That is what a mentoring knight of great stature once lectured to me in greater detail. Though I am certain you could express such things in a more sophisticated manner." He nods in agreement with his last statement as he begins to stand.

Vane looks quite attentive as Andian speaks. "I do so love to discuss philosophy." She says, smiling, taking a drink of her tea.

When Andian stands, she looks a bit alarmed. "I pray thee to stay for a time. Or perhaps I may ask you for assistance?"