The flash of lightning illuminates the surprise on his face when he hears his name spoken back to him. And by the time the thunder fades, he understands who he's speaking to.
"...This night grows stranger and stranger," he says as he follows her in, still favoring his bruised leg.
Her 'sup, wine, and hearth' aren't much, but they look luxurious compared to his last few hours. He sheds his sopping cloak and finds a corner to drape it (he's hardly any drier underneath), and pauses to look her over, with a smile half-relieved and half-bemused and somehow also weary.
"I was on the road to Lethevale, to answer your question," he says. "My horse spooked at a shadow and left me afoot." That, a little rueful-- she knew him as a cavalryman, after all. "But I should ask the same of you, Estill. You're a long way from the Eastern front." Which was where they parted ways, however many years ago. (The past six months feel as long as the previous four years to him, sometimes.)
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"...This night grows stranger and stranger," he says as he follows her in, still favoring his bruised leg.
Her 'sup, wine, and hearth' aren't much, but they look luxurious compared to his last few hours. He sheds his sopping cloak and finds a corner to drape it (he's hardly any drier underneath), and pauses to look her over, with a smile half-relieved and half-bemused and somehow also weary.
"I was on the road to Lethevale, to answer your question," he says. "My horse spooked at a shadow and left me afoot." That, a little rueful-- she knew him as a cavalryman, after all. "But I should ask the same of you, Estill. You're a long way from the Eastern front." Which was where they parted ways, however many years ago. (The past six months feel as long as the previous four years to him, sometimes.)