When he returned, Ardwyn was sitting in the shade of tree, a strangely sad expression mixed with something like happiness on his face.

She sat on her rock and she took no notice of them. She almost appeared to ignore them, but she was simply lost in thought and Darwaine kept stealing glances at her and Ardwyn, kept wondering about what they had spoken about so earnestly and at such length.  Only Stella would not relent in her attitude toward Aren. Ardwyn knew it was because Stella fancied herself in love with Darwaine. She saw a threat to that love in Aren.

The very fact that the man she had feelings for, was blissfully unaware of her as a woman, mattered not in the least. She had managed to convince herself that time would change all that. Aren was aware of them in a different way from the awareness of the forest sounds and smells that she found comforting and familiar.

Her mind was busy with other things, but she knew every word, every sound they made, every movement, even the slightest shift of weight. Her senses were uncanny now that she had learnt to control them.

At first the cacophony of sounds had confused her, but soon she had learnt to dim the unimportant sounds, to listen to what was out of place instead. The forest sounds were like music to her ears, the rustle of the wind, a bird singing, a rabbit scurrying through the underbrush.

Human sounds on the other hand were disturbing. They were clumsy, she needed to ration to what she listened to, as much for their sake as hers.  She was aware of the glowering glares from the girl, the questioning glances from the men. She knew that she puzzled them as much as her presence among them, but they dared not ask. They were subconsciously wary of her. In a sense this should and did bother her, but mostly she encouraged it.

Sometimes she felt uncomfortable between them and then she needed to be away from them, needed to be Aren, needed to be the wolf. Needed the wide-open spaces, freedom, space to breathe, but it was something she could not indulge.

Sometimes she just needed to get the scent of them from her nostrils, a scent that carried too many memories with it. Memories she could not put aside and with the constant reminder of them she could not focus on the more important things, like the child.

Aren stole a glance at the girl. Strange that fate would choose such a one, but fate was often strange, was she not living proof?

That night Darwaine expected her to disappear again, but she did not. She ate a small piece of meat, he offered her.  She experienced no hunger, but that did not mean she had to be rude. Her sense of taste had grown amazingly acute and she knew exactly which spices he had used, just by the taste of it.

They never knew of her disappearance during the night, since she was there in the morning when Darwaine found the wolf tracks by the fire.  He did not know that there had been no wolves in those woods for over a century, except for the one that watched him as she cleaned her nails with her dagger.

He reasoned that they had smelt the residue of dinner. He wondered silently how the wolf had passed only feet from her without disturbing her.

A small sound escaped her as she tried to hide her laughter, but no one noticed. He had an expression of such worry on his face that she almost felt sorry for him. Perhaps one day she would let him know the truth. For now she had a prophecy to fulfill.

Darwaine expected his horses to be skittish when Aren climbed to her seat, so he kept a tight rein on them, but they ignored the added burden on the wagon.

She was not as silent as before and at times he was glad that her attention strayed elsewhere and at other times he felt just a little peeved, he was the only eligible male for leagues and she ignored him flat out. She found Ardwyn more interesting.

Darwaine wondered about her, wondered where she was truly heading and why, without even a bedroll in her possession?

He frowned, except for what she had on her person, she had no other traveling gear. He stole another glance and found her staring at him. Their eyes met and he could swear she was laughing at him again. He knew she guessed that he was wondering about her, but she said no word. She offered no explanations, just sat there, quietly amused by him.

He knew his face had grown slightly pink and he quickly turned his attention back to the horses, wondering about her was like a dog gnawing at an old bone, not worth the effort and yet so tantalizing, with only the promise of marrow on the inside.

The only way to get an answer would be to ask and he had a feeling that she would find some way to evade answering.

They traveled slowly, but surely north and then they left the woods behind, they traveled on a few open roads and found themselves in a dense forest.  Aren was more comfortable here than on the open road. The forest path was narrow and not well used and they met no one on their way.

Odd group of people.