Strut on a line, it's discord and rhyme

It had been a long day, and it wasn't even over yet. "Hey thar, p'rty lady." Emily tried to hide her sneer as she stepped up to the bar, earning the attention of quite a few other people there. Sure, it wasn't the best idea to split up from her pack, and it would earn her more than a little punishment. But they weren't getting anything done, and it wasn't like she was helping anyway. They never let me contribute anyway, she thought, thinking back. How exactly she had come to be the lowest on the ladder was beyond her, and how her few shots at helping always managed to turn into something worse... Maybe it was karma. Maybe she shouldn't have ever left the FBI. At least there she had been someone. An up and coming agent on her way to getting a team all her own. Now what was she? Some Omega out in the middle of god forsaken no where, trying to find some new pack-mates who somehow managed to start off higher on the ladder than she had been given the chance to. And the idiots in here were still trying to pester her.

But maybe she should have paid attention to the pestering, because it was better than the blindside that hit her next. And when she woke up with one hell of a headache the next day, she knew that splitting up with her pack really wasn't the best idea. Trying to escape a week later probably wasn't either. But Emily wasn't really known for her bright ideas. She just tried to get shit done. If that meant breaking out of here her own way and wandering back on her own, so be it.

The bulls are sedated, and this fight's fixed

"So do you understand now?" Bryn continued to avoid Aran's eyes. She had been avoiding them for almost the whole second half of her story, and she knew that he could tell something was off. And it wasn't just her family this time. She actively avoided certain things. Like the confrontation in the ruins. Like her run in with the people of Evermeet. Like the fact that she wasn't nearly as redeemable as he liked to think she was. He was too forgiving, and the more she looked, the more she saw some of her brother in him. And that just made her sad, because she had only come to terms with the fact that she saw some of Killian in Stalar as well. So that made three people she would be letting down: Aran, Stalar, and Killian by proxy. That was why she had left in the first place. So that she would stop letting people down.

Aran's words finally drew her out of her thoughts. "If you want, we could work on decoding the impossible again." His voice was soft, and the hiss of draconic was a comfort. It was so different compared to the harsh sounds of dwarven that she had been listening to. Even common felt weird to her after she spoke for long enough in her friend's native tongue. She nodded slightly, and the papers suddenly appeared in her line of sight.

Maybe it was the fact that she had just relived the last ten years of her life. Maybe it was the fact that friends were on the mind, or maybe it was the strong drink running through her veins. But something seemed to click, and the symbols on the paper seemed to make sense. Not literally, though. No, they were still just as unreadable as ever. But it dawned on her, the missing piece. "This is a code." Aran looked at her like she had lost her mind.
"Yes, we've established that."
"No, no. Like it's not just encoded. It's a code itself. We have the code and not the key. And it's not just that, but the encoding for the code is in another language translated into another language. There's got to be like two other layers of languages on top of whatever it started as. Look, it looks like regular Iokharic script, right? But when translated, it makes no sense, and it seems really... weird, right? Flowy and flowery and shit? I was wondering why that seemed odd. It's because we're translating into common, when it should be elven! Or whatever they write in." Bryn beamed and Aran just continued looking at her as though she had taken one too many blows to the head. She pointed to the other parchment, the one they had written their makeshift translation on. "That right there. I was wondering where it seemed familiar. Try saying it." There was no need, though, because she attempted the very thing a second later. "It's like one of the words my friend used to say. Whatever this was, it was important enough for someone to either learn a bunch of languages to keep it from prying eyes, or they had a lot of people helping. Because no one just knows a lot of languages." Her mind supplied Stalar, but she ignored it and amended her statement. "Most people don't just know a lot of languages. It's not something you really think of." She saw recognition in Aran's eyes as well, and she knew that they had stumbled onto something.
"You're right. But how do we do this then?"
"I got it. But it's gonna take time. And energy. And you're gonna have to trust me. This wedding comes first, because honestly, I'm still really nervous about it. This has been a nice distraction, but now I have to really focus and make sure I don't screw this up." She left out the again. Aran nodded in agreement, and she smiled. Once the wedding was over and the excitement blew over, she'd ask Stalar for help with all of this. He knew a bunch of odd languages, and since one was Elven, she knew that he could help. It was exciting. Almost like stealing and disarming traps. Almost.

Her thoughts were far from the code, however, when the wedding occurred. They stayed off of it when she followed Rockwell to Goldpoint. And it may as well have been in a different plane of existence when they were fighting off the giants during what should have been the honeymoon. What a way to spend a wedding.

I'm a mascot for what you've become. & I love the mayhem more than the love.

She had seen cities before, but Bryn had never seen anything quite like Evermeet. Small, squat taverns sat in between large buildings held together by magic. One building was twenty times taller than her, and she couldn't even see the top if she bent backwards. It was invigorating and dream-crushing at the same time. Just the kind of place she needed.

The people in said city were about as nice as the atmosphere. Most people ran into her and then ran on, not even mumbling an apology. It was as if even that recognition would be a burden to their apparently busy lives. The change of pace threw her off kilter a bit. And it didn't get better as the day slowly shifted into night. The normally stunning display of oranges and pinks that signaled the end of the day were covered by buildings and smoke, the by product of some spell or another. The result was a dreary mix of brown and grey that honestly made Bryn feel depressed and a tad homesick. But she had gone come to the big city for a reason. And experience, but that was looking less important now. No, now she was focused on two things: getting the information she was looking for, and seeing if any of her friends had made it here. If she could find one of them, maybe she could travel with them for a bit. It would make her feel better after having been away for so long. Something in the back of her mind was itching, telling her that there was no way things were finished, that at very least there had to be others like her & Rockwell.

It took her over a month to finish her search. Over a month of stopping in every arcane store, scouring every library and archive, of visiting and talking to every magic and ritual caster she could find. None of them had what she was looking for. There were a few names she hadn't gone over yet, but her hopes were starting to fall. She looked across the counter and listened to yet another shopkeeper drone on about the period it was from, the fact that she shouldn't have things like this, this and that. It was boring. Bryn interrupted him with a sigh and waved her hand. "Look, can you read it or not? Because if you can't read it and tell me what it is, I'd like to know." The shopkeeper scoffed at her.
"Can I read it? This is older than either of us can imagine, and you ask if I can read it. Do you even know what it is you're holding?"
"I'm pretty sure you just lectured me on it for the past ten minutes. Look, I really want to get something to eat. I'm starving and running out of patience. Can. You. Read. It." A beat, then a sigh.
"No. And I don't think you'll find anyone in this city who can. But you might want to try... Here." He scribbled something onto a piece of paper. When he handed it over, Bryn felt a twinge of recognition, but she couldn't place it exactly. She knew the place written down, but didn't know why she knew it. "There's a guy there who may be of more help. He may not be there, but he shouldn't be hard to find. Only arcane user in that or any other nearby village." Bryn thanked him and left, trying to figure out why the name looked so familiar. It wasn't until she was halfway to the town that it hit her like harder than Rockwell's hammer or Emeire's spells. But she continued on. "Well, this is just going to ruin the surprise now, won't it?"

Bryn hadn't stepped foot into Hartshire since... well, since the incident with the robbers. There was no telling how Aran would react, but Bryn was sure it would be just like old times. He'd be patient, understanding, and she'd just sit there and look as though she had been caught sneaking sweets. Again. It had been a common occurrence when she had lived there. Her hand was poised at the knocker, and although she wanted to just get on with it, something stopped her. Her heart was almost certainly racing around her lungs and through her stomach, doing laps that she had long lost count of. She could have thanked the gods that the papers were in her bag, because her hands were sweating and she could have sworn she saw one shake. The great Bryn Swiftrunner, nervous to meet an old friend. It was almost too good, but she couldn't really appreciate the moment right now, seeing as how she was living it. Before she had a change to act, however, the door swung open and a young lady walked into her. "Oh I'm so sorry, I wasn't... Bryn? Wild Woman Bryn? Well, I'll be! You remember me, right? Little Charissa? Probably not, I was only about seven last you saw me. Oh, I'll let you go, but it's good to see you back!" Her words were a jumbled to Bryn's ears, but Bryn somehow managed to separate them from the noises that she was producing to show that she was indeed listening, and did indeed remember. That's when Charissa decided to do something before Bryn could stop her; she turned back toward the inside and yelled for Aran. "You got a visitor, Ar! Little Bryn's back."

Time seemed to slow down as Bryn watched events unfold. She gave Charissa one last hug and wished her and her brother well (apparently he was off adventuring now), and suddenly copper scales filled her vision. "Bryn. It's been a long time." Everything was the same. It was as if Bryn had been transported back over 10 years to when she was still living with her friend. Before she had gone on grand adventures. Before she found and left her clan again, and certainly before she was the mess she was now. Her feet suddenly became very interesting, and she shifted from one to the other with a nervous energy that seemed unsuited to her.
"Um, hi. I got you something. I hope you like it but I can't find anyone to translate it, and that's actually why I was here, and this isn't going as planned at all and I'm sorry but I tried I can't believe it's really you and you aren't mad at me because I'd be mad at me why aren't you mad at me and the town people still remember me this is - " her long winded rant was cut short by deep laughter. It had started as a chuckle somewhere in the middle of her speech and ended up full blown laughter.
"Bryn, slow down. You're going to confuse me more than I already am. I got that this is mine," he motioned to the papers he now held, "and I got that you're nervous. But that's about all I got." Bryn felt herself go red, and just nodded. He gestured inside and the two of them quickly found themselves seated in the kitchen-slash-workshop. "Please, continue. And slowly this time." She repeated all the information, leaving out details such as where she had come from and where the papers had been before finding their way into her possession. In true Aran fashion, he sat through the whole thing and just nodded, listening and apparently deep in thought. The two of them bounced ideas off each other as to what the papers were, and why they had been intact for all these years when they were obviously so old. It was almost just like old times.

It took another two years to get even close to breaking the code that was in the papers. It was odd, because Aran had all but confirmed it to be Dragonborn text, but even then neither of them could understand it. By that time, Bryn had fallen back into the habit of living with another person. She found comfort in the small village, telling stories both to the kids and to the people who were kids when she left, and were now young adults. Some of them even had their own kids, and those were her favorite. It was odd, because seeing them all grown up should have reminded her of her own age, but she didn't really feel any different. Maybe it was because she had spent the time travelling and training. Or maybe it was another perk of Sehanine's grace. She didn't bother to think too much of it though. By the time they had made any progress on the papers, she was more worried about other matters.
"Aran, what do I do? What do you even wear to a wedding? A DWARVEN wedding! How in the gods name am I supposed to know what to wear to a DWARVEN WEDDING?" Bryn paced about nervously, not wanting to screw this up for her friend. Sure, they hadn't seen each other in ten years. But that didn't change what they had all gone through together, and it didn't change the fact that she considered Rockwell one of her closest companions. Same with everyone she had traveled with. Aran chuckled at her antics.
"Well, you could research it a little. The wedding isn't for another few months, Bryn. You have time. Plenty of time to figure out what you're going to wear, and what you're going to do. And I'll work on the scroll." Bryn whipped around faster than either of them thought was possible, and for a second she was worried about whiplash. But only a second.
"Oh no," she growled, sending a glare at the still chuckling Dragonborn. "If I have to suffer through this, so do you. How amusing do you find it now." An eyebrow ridge quirked up and she smirked in response. They spoke with their actions, and finally she won, earning a sigh from the older dragon. "I suggest you find something to wear too. Nice robes or something. The journey to Stonehaven from here is a good month if we're lucky, so that leaves us just a couple months to figure this out before we have to prepare and leave." Her friend just nodded, and as he stood to leave, hesitated. What Bryn often called "the look" passed over his face. It was that look he got when he wanted to say something but thought better of it. It was a look she had seen on others before too, but it would always be his look first, and Bryn was glad when he let it go and left the room. She sunk into a chair and sighed. It wouldn't be long before he asked about her adventures. He had probably heard stories from the townsfolk, but that wouldn't be enough. That much she knew. Aran was inquisitive, he loved asking questions and finding answers. It would only be a matter of time before he decided to ask her about her own past. And although she didn't mind telling him, Bryn didn't think she could handle reliving all of that right now. It would more likely break her than help her.

The two of them skirted around the issue for the remainder of their time together in Hartshire, and continued to do so during the journey to Stonehaven. The question of just when he would ask haunted Bryn for the next few months, and when he finally cornered her in a Stonehaven tavern, she had already resigned herself to her fate.

Just because I'm losing, doesn't mean I'm lost

It was hot out, that was the first thing she noticed. And not just the normal heat. After all, she was in the desert. Hot was normal.

It had been two years since she left her clan again, but Bryn was gone. She had traveled around a bit, undergoing her own form of "training" as she called it. There had been jokes about her recklessness leading to setting off traps in a very... unusual manner. But her skill was there. Now she just had to work on finding the traps, and learning more wouldn't hurt too much either. So that's exactly what she had started doing. She started in Southvale, making sure to stop and say hi to old friends before moving on. After that, a quick romp through elven territory nearby and off to the desert she went. The Greysand Oasis was where she currently resided, and it really earned its name. Maybe it was minerals in the water, or maybe some sort of magic was at play, but the sand was always ash grey. Not that Bryn bothered enough to actually look up why it was that way. She just went with it. Because that wasn't why she was here. No, she was here for the ruins. Just outside the oasis city is where the real fun was. Some of the ruins had been cleared long ago, little more than tourist attractions meant to draw in trade and commerce. A little further out is where the treasure was, and with it, traps. Lots and lots of traps.

She really should have payed more attention to where she was going though. Maybe researched a little into Dragonborn architecture, since they were the ruins of an ancient Dragonborn civilization. The part of her that missed her companions told her that Aran would have been a valuable asset, but she ignored it. Just like she ignored it when the gang had split up, and when she had left her family for a second time. She was good at that. But no, instead she was here, pinned to a wall, trying to figure out if the hallway in front of her would have blades or arrows. Her gut said blades, but only because she knew Leonidas liked them. For all she knew, they liked neither and acid would spew out at her when she tried to walk. Bryn shuddered at the thought and tried to find the trigger. Keyword: tried. Before she had a chance to actually do anything, some halfwit looking for treasure tried to walk down the path. She blocked him, giving him a sturdy glare. "There's a trap. So unless you want to be mince meat, you'll stay put for a second, sparky." The traveler (a human) just laughed at her and tried to continue on. Her eyes flashed once in irritation before she reigned it in. In the blink of an eye, her dagger was out and pinning his shirt to the limestone walls.
"Who do you think you are? I would like to go down here, and no matter how cute you are, pint-sized, you won't stop me." Again her eyes flashed. This guy was trying her nerves, and she had half a mind to let him just trigger the trap for her. It would certainly make life easier. But instead she held up a finger and threw one of her coins onto the trigger stone. Just as she had hoped, it was heavy enough, and arrows started shooting through holes in the walls. The human just watched, wide eyed as puffs of air disturbed his bangs. As the arrows died down, Bryn pried her dagger loose with a smirk.
"That's why I was stopping you. But if you'd like to continue, than please do. By all means, I'm no longer stopping you. But at least let me finish my work, alright?" She ignored his comments, her mind slipping into diagrams and tools. She knew the stone was the trigger, but she couldn't figure out quite how it would reload. There had to be at least another trigger, because the stone she had thrown her coin onto was still tripped. Finally her guest's words reached her.
"The off colored stones. But that doesn't stop the actual arrows." Her eyebrows shot up at his comment, and she could have smacked herself for not realizing it earlier. The off-color stones were the safe stones, something for someone who needed to get by but didn't want to fully disarm the trap. With careful precision and practiced ease, Bryn hopped from stone to stone until she reached the other end of the trap. Or at least, what she hoped was the other end of the trap. It had something for her to do, and that was enough.

The nice things about ruins was that they tended to be falling apart. This one was no exception. Large portions of the walls had holes, and she was staring into one now. Only, instead of more chambers like most of the holes had, this one was full of firing mechanisms for the arrows. "Why, hello there. Let's just have a look see," she murmured, and her hands went to work. A few minutes (and annoying shouts from her guest) later, the trap was done. She had managed to disarm it without setting it off. Well, without setting it off on accident (she wouldn't count the coin thing.) "It's safe. Keep the coin, maybe it'll bring you luck. You're gonna need it if you keep blundering forward like that." He looked less than impressed.
"I would have been fine, I'm sure. Besides, you look like you need it more. Not many halflings decide to wander through ruins on their lonesome. You sure you don't want a little company?" Bryn gave the human a once over, although she already knew her answer.
"Are you kidding? You were about to stumble into a trap, you're wearing leather, so you don't expect anything to go wrong. Either that, or you really can't get much else, because it's always better to be prepared. And you have no clue where you're going, because the treasure rooms aren't this way, but left at the last fork. I know, I looted them. So it seems like you need my help, not the other way around." A sneer managed to find its way onto her face as she spoke, and Bryn couldn't help but let it stay. She didn't let her eyes go haywire, but she was almost certain her body language spoke volumes about her feelings right now. "Now one of two things can happen: I can let you go now and we forget you ever stumbled across me, or you keep running that mouth of yours and I find a trap that hasn't been triggered or disarmed to shove you into. Because you're testing what little patience I have left. I have been in these damn ruins for the last two days for training, I have had next to no sleep, I want real food not rations, and I'm sick of all this damn sand," she ended, her words coming out more like snarls. She just wanted peace and quiet to do her thing, to look around and maybe find some cool stuff that she could actually use. He was having none of it though, opting instead to be offended by her words.
"Excuse me? I must have you know, even leather is extremely hot in this weather, and full armor would be worse. You're in leather and you seem to be just fine. And who says I'm looking for treasure. How can I even know you actually did what you said. Two days? For 'training'? I think you're full of Minotaur shit and just won't accept it. Who do you think you are, pretending to play the lone adventurer?" His words piled up on Bryn, and she could feel herself snap. It had been four days (two in the ruins and two for travel), she had been plagued with nightmares (which was currently normal) and thus had no sleep, the rations sucked and she wanted real food, sand was getting in her boots, and worst of all she had to deal with this asshole. Her eyes didn't glow with their normal vigor, instead casting an almost eerie, blood red light just in front of her face, illuminating what little bit was in shadow. Ire and some irrational rage seared through her, and before she quite had time to process it, her dagger was back out and pointed.
"Who do I think I am? You really want to ask that? I think I'm the one who's faced down countless creatures you've only seen in your nightmares. I think I'm the only one of us here who's looked death in the eye and lived to tell the tale. I think I'm the one who's been in this desert for a god's damned week prepping in the heat before I even touched these god's forsaken ruins. And I think that, of the two people here, I'm the one who has the map. You know, the one from the archives in the city? No, you wouldn't. Because no one goes to the damn archives. How do I know? Because if they had, they would have known I have the only copy of said map." She left out the part about stealing it, because the nice people in the building hadn't wanted to let her make a copy. That was better left unsaid. "So I think you'd best turn around and walk home, green stalk. Because I think you're out of your league." Before Bryn could do much else, her feet were walking away, through the hallway, past the (now disarmed) arrow trap, and to the next area.

It was a good hour before she calmed down even a little bit. Thankfully there weren't any living things she could take it out on. Well, unless reanimated skeletons could be counted as living, but she didn't count them. Finally she found what she had come there for (besides the traps, that is). In one of the far corners of the ruins there had been an archive, or a library of some sort. And even though she hadn't seen him since before her adventures, somehow Bryn knew that if she could get one of these books for Aran, he'd be grateful. Not that she cared. No, she just wanted to do something for an old friend. He had been on her mind a lot recently, and had their last encounter not ended... well, she just was hesitant to go back. Maybe she'd leave it on his doorstep with a note. And maybe the gods would take pity on her and the earth would swallow her whole before that actually happened. Either way, she found a room that seemed to be mostly intact, and they appeared to be the right area according to the map. Quickly taking whatever was still intact after all these years, Bryn set up the instant camp and called it a night.

For the first time in two years, Bryn didn't see the faces of her family in her dreams, wasn't haunted by the derisive laughter of fate, couldn't feel the pitying stares of her former friends and companions. Instead she slept more soundly than she had in a very long time.

He's got inside my head, got hold of my hand

"Is everything alright?" Bryn blinked and the forest was gone, replaced by dwarves drinking their ale and a worried dragonborn to her left. Well, she knew he looked worried at least. She had long gotten used to his eyebrow ridge things.
"Yeah. Sorry, I lost myself for a moment there." She almost decided to drop it, to not continue the story any further. Aran was looking at her like she would break, and it was starting to annoy her. Not that she would let him know that. "Look, it was nothing, alright. I met up with my family, hung with them for a bit, and left because I wanted to go see more. Nothing big." The look persisted, although it wasn't as strong. That was good at least. She put on a lax smile and tried to convince him. "Really. I'm just being silly and remembering all the good times I had during those five years. It's nothing to worry about, alright?" That seemed to put him at ease.
"If you say so, Bryn. But if there's anything you need," he started, trailing off with another pointed look. The second half was unspoken between them, as it had been when he found her in the woods all those years ago. As it had been when she had managed to find him again.
"I know. Anyway, where was I?"
"Travelling around, something about a desert."
"Oh right! So there I was..."

Please don't forget me. I'm going away.

She left soon after. Killian was waiting for her a little way into the forest. They stared at each other for a minute, neither one wanting to break the silence. Finally, he offered a small smile and a shake of his head.
"Vee will be mad." A nod. "The camp will be disappointed." Another slight nod. "I want you to take this." Bryn was going to nod, but the words sunk in and she just gave her brother a look. "Don't give me that look, Bryn. I want you to have this. And these actually." Her eyes went wide as Killian started taking off his gloves, and had she been in the speaking mood, she would have refused. He just chuckled as he handed them to her. "I know, my favorite set. Take good care of them. I swear, if you lose them, I'm forcing you to make new ones. And here." She almost didn't catch the bright red sticks, although she would have sworn it was because she was still shocked over the gloves. "It doesn't run out, but there are a couple sticks just in case. Don't tell the others, but I've been using them to mark paths through here. It's how I've been able to get us back to camp." Both of them smiled, although with utterly different emotions. One smile was soft, understanding. The other sorrow tinged and slightly apologetic. "There's more in this. Handy items for camp sites and such." He handed over a bundle, and Bryn couldn't help but wonder if he had known she would leave this early all along. "I figured your time here was coming to an end. You never were good at staying in one place, little bird." She scowled as he ruffled her hair one last time, and whispered a quick word of thanks before bolting past him.

Taking the ring of Avandra tied around her neck and bringing it to her lips, Bryn whispered a prayer asking for guidance. There had to be someplace for her to go, even if the way wasn't clear to her now. With that in mind, she started walking.

I used to hear it all so loud, the sound of my heart breaking

The decision to leave Stonehaven was easy. There wasn't anything there for her anymore. She wouldn't go back to stealing from innocent people, and although nobles were usually far from innocent in her eyes, Rockwell wouldn't have been pleased. Besides, dwarves were no fun to steal from. They all had the same traps. Maybe if she could find some elves... But that was beside the point. There was also the fact that the local guard knew her well enough by now that it wasn't really a good idea to stay. And, for all the flack her former companions had given her, she wasn't stupid. Far from it. Sure, she was reckless, and tended to set off more traps than she disarmed, but that was fine by her. Both ways got the job done: no one else got harmed. So it wasn't all that stupid really.

The darkness funneling into the tunnels from outside made it clear what time it was, and Bryn could have laughed. Something about this whole thing reminded her of when she had first left her family. That ring, the one with Avandra's symbol etched onto it, was now around her neck, a piece of leather keeping it in place. The feather was also still on her, wrapped into the handle of her bow. A lot of the trinkets that she had taken managed to stay with her, now that she thought about it. As much as she liked to leave the past there, she also was more sentimental than she really gave herself credit for. With a quick whispered prayer to both Avandra and Sehanine, Bryn started walking into to the night.

She found River's End first. A couple months there got her a pretty penny and more than a few pretty ladies to help her out. Once again Bryn found herself settled in the shit poor part of town. Something about the atmosphere there drew her in. It wasn't that she had no money, quite the opposite. But to see people drinking heavily, laughing and gambling what little they had made... it was intoxicating. People being happy and dirt poor were more fun to be around than stuffy nobles with all their money and angst anyway. Not that common folk and beggars were free from it, but somehow they seemed to let loose more often. At least they did here. For the first time since leaving Stonehaven, Bryn found herself settling into her casual smirks and carefree laughter once again. It seemed like she hadn't freely laughed in far too long, since at least the incident with the drow.

From there it hadn't been too hard to find her old clan. They moved around a lot, but spring time was ideal for selling things in port cities, so they usually drifted there. It was almost surreal to Bryn, how easily she shifted back into nomad mode after so many years in survival mode.The two were connected, sure, but she hadn't really been a nomad in years. Not that it mattered much now. She held her head up high as she entered the temporary camp.

It was different. Normally they had places to stay for the shifting seasons. Spring was normally spent closer to Evermeet, since it was large and tended to have better trade offers than River's End ever did. Plus, they had a permanent fort of sorts there, a place that provided better shelter than the tents that the clan (her clan, she mentally corrected) were currently living in could ever offer. This wasn't normal, and that set Bryn on edge. Still not quite in control, her eyes glowed a faint grey in the low light of the morning. The situation wasn't lost on her in the slightest. How odd, that she had left in the shadow of the night, and now, all these years later, she returned with the first rays of light the sun had to offer. Life certainly had it's ways, and she murmured thanks to Pelor and a quick prayer that her companions (Stalar) were well. No alarms were ringing, and the dead silence was ringing in her ears. She was almost hyper sensitive to noise now, listening for anything at all that would placate her fears. Because even if she hadn't been back to visit, they were still her brothers and sisters, her friends. People she had grown up with. People who threw you out. The thought ran through her head, echoed where there was silence. The sound of arrows being drawn, of leather on leather, brought a sigh of relief to her. Even though she knew that arrows were being aimed at her from almost every direction, this was the clan she knew and had left behind. "It's alright! It's just me guys. Or do you hold grudges that long?" She tried to keep the shake in her voice from showing. It wouldn't due to have them know she was worried. She'd never hear the end of it.

A voice from directly behind her almost caused Bryn to turn on her heels and launch into a hug.
"It's her alright. I'm surprised we didn't smell her a mile off." Instead Bryn just laughed, a quiet but throaty chuckle.
"I love you too Vee." And with that, she did turn around and wrap the older halfling in a hug. Vivian was slightly taller than Bryn was (even if she would never admit it), and as they pulled away from each other, she rested an elbow on the top of Bryn's head, putting a scowl on her face. It was all in good fun though. Her sister turned and made some motions, ones that looked familiar but she couldn't place their meaning.
"So, what a pleasant turn of events! What brings you back to us, Bryn?" Vivian's face held a smile, but Bryn couldn't help but feel like it was off somehow. She hadn't been around her family in a while though, so she just shrugged it off. Not seeing someone for over ten years meant she couldn't judge, could no longer read her sister's face with the startling accuracy that she used to.
"Just in the neighbor hood, and I remembered you guys used to camp around here. Why aren't you using the forts?" A dark shadow passed over Vivian's face, and it surprised the young halfling. Her sister had always been so vocal about not being sad, about how happiness could be found in everything. Sure, Bryn always tried to be cheerful and vivacious, but only because her sister had been first. Just like she learned all her physical skills from her older brother. Sensing that a change of topic was in order, she went to that instead. "Where is Killian? He should have been easy to spot, given how tall he is!" That did the trick. The light returned to her sister's eyes and she giggled.
"He's out hunting today. He's gotten even taller, can you believe it?" A look of false shock was all it took to set both the sisters off in a new round of giggles. Killian was always tall, surprisngly so for a halfling. He was easily four inches taller than their father had been, and that was already quite tall for someone like them. But despite rumors that he wasn't really a halfling, they loved him all the same. He was their older brother, and nothing would change that. Besides, he still had all the skills of a halfling. If it growls like a bear, leaves prints like a bear, and has a coat like a bear, just call it a damn bear. Bryn said as much to her sister, and was pleased to hear a snort in response. "Always the same. Ten years couldn't mellow you out. Let's hope Avandra decided ten years was long enough. Don't want them running you out before the fun starts tonight." At this, Bryn just looked confused. There weren't any holidays coming up, and none of the harvest celebrations were planned. So that only left one thing, something that scared her quite a bit. Her wide eyes seemed to send the wrong message, though. "Yup, we're gonna have a feast to celebrate your return!"

After a long discussion about why that was a bad idea, Bryn resigned. Her sister could be just as stubborn as she was, and Bryn was quite sure that it ran in all of her family. Long-arrow. The name she never got to take. Her sister wondered what name she had picked as a replacement, and found it funny that she took Swift-runner. "You were always first when we held races. I bet that helped you more than once, what with the trouble you've been in?" Bryn just nodded, her eyes just as wide as they had been for the announcement. "Look, how about this. Try it out. See how tonight goes and if it goes well, travel with us again. It'd be nice to have you back, honestly. We miss having the trio. Three's a lucky number for us, and with two, half our schemes didn't work." Bryn thought it over, and just shook her head.
"You're schemes didn't work because you couldn't pull them off without me? Lies. It was because mom and dad were the leaders and let you get away with stuff." Now it was Vivian's turn to feign surprise.
"No such thing! But please? Consider it?" A nod was all it took to set her sister into another round of hugs.

The feast went well, and Bryn would never admit it, but she missed the feeling of family. Of people like her laughing and joking around about the past. Sure, she had felt left out for a few minutes as they told stories that she couldn't relate to. That she would never be able to relate to. But then they had listened to her stories, her grand exaggerations of what had happened with the Beholder, of meeting minotaurs. Of taking on the whole Vorn estate and burning it to the ground. (Obviously she left out any deaths and stretched a few details, but who would notice?) And they had all been more than happy when she announced she'd return for a bit, but that she knew she would have to leave eventually. One of the elders, whose name escaped her now, but she had known it once years ago, said she had a habit of that and habits don't die easy. It rang in her ears and sunk into her head. It wrote itself out behind her closed eyes that night as she tried to sleep, and she could feel it in the sun's dying rays and the moon's normally comforting shine. It hadn't been said in ire or spite. It had been stated like a fact, and had sounded like a word of caution.

Four years passed, and oh how they flew. Bryn felt like a new person. Laughter came easily, and although she never did learn everything that had happened in her time away, she figured it would come in due time. Apparently things had changed more than she had thought. Things like the fact that they no longer traveled as far north, opting to stay to the other directions. Or that they no longer used the forts, but tent cities that would shift a little each day. And the night watches were certainly new, only used before when they were traveling through hostile territory. But every time she tried to casually mention it, something would happen and Bryn would lose focus. Or let it drop. Vivian never reacted well to questions about those things, and it honestly scared her a little how different her sister was like that. So she went to Killian instead. Because after four years, she was going to get some answers. They couldn't keep her out of whatever loop was there for much longer.

"Killian, can we talk?" The two of them were out hunting, although they already had more than enough food for the whole camp between them and the others. He nodded was waved off the others, sending them back to camp.
"What did ya want to say?" He was studying her face, she could tell. Where as their sister was the playful one of the bunch (or so she had thought), Killian had always been studious and serious. That wasn't to say that he had no sense of humor, because that much ran in the family. But he always knew when to just sit down and say things. Bryn couldn't help but wonder if her bluntness came from him, because no one else in their family was quite like that. They liked their barbed jokes, their mean-spirited jabs, but rarely came out and said what was on their mind.
"Why all the changes? Why the night patrols and tents? And where are mother and father?" She saw the slight shake of his head. "Killian, what happened to them? I know Vivian said they left at one point, but -"
"They didn't leave, little bird," he said, cutting her off. A large hand rested on her head, and she pouted a little at the gesture and old nickname. It had been a sign of affection then, but now it only brought back thoughts of leaving, of 'flying away' so to speak. She was so caught up in that, though, his words didn't sink in until he continued. "They were killed. Vivian just can't accept that. You know how she is. They're immortal to her. Always have been, always will be." A sad smile made its way onto his face, and Bryn felt for a seat. This was news to her. After years of thinking up apologies, of wanting to see them, of needing to say a few last words... The air was thick with silence, and Bryn lost track of how long they sat like that. Finally she regained the courage to speak.
"When? How?"
"Five ago. Maybe a little longer." She felt her heart shatter at his words. While she had been going on grand adventures, killing beasts and playing the "honorable thief" in Stonehaven, her parents were killed and the clan was left without a leader. And as she listened to her brother's story of how they had been up in the north, how her parents had been in a hunting party and had come across a group of people, elves mostly. They had traded, but something had gone wrong, and only three of the original six man party made it back to the forts. Packing up had caused them precious time, and they lost a lot of the elders that she remembered from her childhood. Some made it out, but they all watched their backs now, and a lot of them wasted away without their friends and family there. Bryn couldn't imagine why someone would kill others on sight, but images of Burningwood and the drow flashed through her mind at the thought. She doubted it was them, but if there were others like them... it didn't bode well. But that was far in the back of her mind, so far away from her current thoughts that it was more like something from a dream she had once had.

Somewhere in the middle of Killian's story, night's dark hues fell upon them. And dark it was. She didn't, couldn't see any of Sehanine's radiance (goodness, she was sounding like Stalar now), and a quick glance to the sky confirmed that the moon wasn't there. She heard her brother say something, but it didn't register. A shake of her head, and he was on his way back to camp. And so Bryn sat, a stump for her throne as she processed everything that had been told to her. She looked to the sky once again, considering cursing, but she didn't. It wouldn't have been right, because there was nothing that could have been done. She knew this, she knew that the gods couldn't interfere even if they wanted to. But something about the empty slot in the sky where there was normally some sort of light made her feel hollow inside. Maybe it was the fact that it seemed darker than it had been ever before, or maybe it was the senseless deaths of her friends, her clan-mates, her parents. And for the first time she could ever remember, Bryn cried.