IC, Valestiel: Turn And Return
It felt good to be back in her little hut by the Frozen Sea. It was home, if only the last remainder of it.
The huntress’ main concern upon returning had been her dragonhawks. Her hireling had done a fair job of keeping the latest brood in good health. Three of the hatchlings had grown into beautiful, fiery looking creatures that were ready to be sold off to the handlers. The fourth one was exhibiting a coloration more fit for an amani-bred dragonhawk than for an elven one. Still, Valestiel felt there was good hope that some ranger with a taste for the exotic would take the creature; at the very worst, she’d venture off to the filthy Orcish city where she was likely to find a buyer among the hordes of brutes that populated the place.
Valestiel loosened the leather strips that held her chainmail gauntlets in place, flexing her fingers before sliding her hands out of the gloves. She roamed about her home, picking up a basket with bread and a jar of milk in the process. The ‘house’ encompassed all of one room with a tiny structure propped against the outside of the easternmost wall to offer refuge for the hawks. The huntress stood by the door, gazing over the horizon. Once upon a time, she remembered well, her tiny home had been but the stable to her dragonhawks, and her own house had watched over it - a tall, golden spire dominating the view of the sea. Fleetingly, she wondered if she could unearth some of debris from underneath her feet. Yes, maybe even some of her brother’s bones were still there…
The sharp cry of one of the golden hawks blissfully broke her away from her thoughts. It was good to be home, and there was no time to contemplate the grotesque possibilities. Having paid off the girl that she had left in charge a few months earlier when she had fled the ghosts of the House Sunmist, it was once again left to her to care for the hawks and make a living out of it. It was better now, at least she had a roof over her head and no debris to clear. Holding onto that thought, she whirled towards the nest as she carried bread and milk: the meal that she and the hatchlings would share.