Perigryne’s First Hunt
Part 3
The skies were clear as she and Raven Caller sailed through them giving her visibility for several leagues in all directions. It was good to be out riding again, and for a time she and Raven simply savored the freedom of the autumn air and the crisp wind in their faces. As the mountains grew taller, however, the air grew colder, and white cloud banks began to furl themselves around the highest peaks. She took this as her cue to really begin her mission and after a brief meal in the saddle, she took out the biglasses and scanned the areas north of her along the Duchy’s borders.
There was little to see beyond the usual sighs of the Hinterlands, but this had been her first time actually scanning them from the air—or ever. Subtle touches on Raven’s neck sent them soaring downward from time to time so that she could get a better look at many of the ancient ruins that abutted the range’s edge. And while she didn’t see anything overtly suspicious, she took mental notes of the trolls and Horde encampments, as well as the caravans that traversed the roads—mostly dwarves, though she caught an Alliance patrol once far to the north.
Much like a spyglass, the glass lenses sometimes fogged up in the cold from being too close to her face and taking in the heat and moisture. She made a note to mention that to Sigrid, as well.
As she and Raven chased the sun on its decline to the west, they stopped to rest briefly along the banks of the river dividing the middle Reaches from the western ones. But it wasn’t long before twilight came calling, and they found themselves camping up in the mountains east of Ulf’s Blade, another hour or so out from the town. She’d hoped to make it there before stopping, but neither she nor Raven Caller were used to the long flights; and she didn’t want to push them any further that day than she already had.
They were used to camping, though, and while Peri set up camp and got a small fire going, Raven went off to hunt. The area she’d chosen had seemed relatively safe from above; so, she didn’t worry about setting up any tripwires for their camp. Rather, she spent the time while Raven was gone taking care of her business before settling down by the fire to make notes on the maps she’d been given along with jotting down a few observations from her day. She made quick work of one of the honied oatcakes the Sanctum considered rations, then found a good spot on the ground, raked over some pine needles and leaves, and made a nest for herself and Raven.
About an hour after nightfall, the hippogryph returned looking rather pleased with himself; he’d clearly had a good hunt.
“Not bad hunting around here, huh?” she asked him as he settled in to be brushed and looked over for the night.
He nuzzled her hair with his beak in reply, making a few companionable noises that to Peri sounded like a kind of agreement. Once her own check and brush was done, Raven had his own preening to do. He also had to make his own adjustments to their sleeping arrangements before he was satisfied and settled down for the night. Peri simply enjoyed the last few minutes by the fire and the clear skies and bright stars overhead.
When Raven was settled, she put out the fire for the night, filling in the hole she’d made for it with the dirt she’d extracted. Her father had taught her that trick, since the winds could often make fire building in the mountains difficult. Then she moved over to settle in next to Raven who would inevitably steal most of her blanket come morning (which made her all the more grateful for the fur-lined leathers she was wearing. Not a bad choice after all….)
As the sound of the mountain breezes caught in the detritus of its pine and shrub forests, Perigryne yawned, her eyes closing. She wasn’t certain what she was supposed to be looking for out here, but if the rest of her patrol was anything like today, she’d be back in Shade’s Rest before the week was out.
Part 4
It was an early morning for Peri and Raven, the clouded air a fog that hung thick about them and wreathed them in mist. The scent of pine permeated the warmth of their makeshift bed, and while Peri wanted to sleep longer, Raven’s prodding eventually pulled her awake.
As she’d expected, the hippogryph had stolen her blanket and then left it to fall to the ground nowhere near where she was sleeping when he’d gotten up. Rousing herself and collecting it, she then glanced at Raven who seemed anxious to be in the air. With a grimace, she saddled him, then shook the blanket a few times. The damp air would cause it to mildew If she put it away now; so, she decided to wrap it around herself while they were flying in the hopes that the wind might dry it before their first landing.
Grabbing another honeyed oatcake from her backpack, she ate it quickly, glancing up at the sky where the first fingers of dawn were beginning to paint the world in rose colors. While the fog around them hadn’t taken on those hues, yet, she knew it wouldn’t be long before they did. Still, she hoped the clouds would burn off quickly. Before mounting up, she took one last look at the maps she’d been given, reminding herself of their flight path for the day—along the north wall of the mountains, south along their edge to Thoradin’s Wall, then back east. If they were lucky, she could make it back to Ulf’s Blade that night where a warm bed and stable would hopefully be waiting, but it would be a long, hard ride—a good test of their combined endurance.
She rolled up the maps and stuffed them back in her backpack, licking the last of the honey from her fingers before she pulled herself onto Raven’s back. “We can stop for a meal before we turn south, I think, and you can hunt up something then,” she said softly into Raven’s neck, wrapping her arms about him for a moment in a gentle hug before rising up and gently pulling on the reins.
In another moment, they were clearing the treetops. Below them, the ground was blanketed in clouds, heralds of a new dawn. But they were headed further into the darkness, and Peri had to keep Raven closer to the ground in order to scout the outlying terrain.
As they passed the mountains north of Gaellus’ Rest, the sun had finally risen and was baking away the clouds, allowing her to climb higher and get a better vantage to the north. These first days of autumn were far calmer than those that were to come, and while the evenings drew in the chill, and the morning air still stung with Winter’s first breaths, the days were gloriously bright, warm, and filled with an abundance of summer’s frantic leavings.
All ready the trees were beginning to change their colors, and while the pines were ever green, she saw herds of goats and wild deer making their descent from their summer climes to bask in the last bits of warmth before Winter. Some of the higher peaks were still frosted over in snow, but the past year had been warmer than usual, and fewer of them were white than she’d have expected in the Western Reaches.
Much of the morning was spent in fruitless observation—nothing out of the ordinary marking itself through the biglasses. The western edge of the Hinterlands held more gryphon roosts and nests than the she’d seen previously, and a few herds of wild horses were seen heading for their watering holes, but apart from the occasional lone traveler and another Alliance aerial patrol—(they’d exchanged a brief wave,) nothing seemed to be out of place.
As they took in the last of the heights and began to wind their way into the hills of Hillsbarad, she turned Raven to the south, alighting near one of the mountain streams she caught glinting down below as the sun caught it from overhead.
Dismounting, she left the saddle on Raven, brushing a hand over his neck plumage, then pulling the blanket from around her. “Don’t take long,” she said to him, before moving to settle down on a rocky outcropping near the water. He shook his head, dissatisfied that the saddle was still on, but as Peri started folding the blanket, she shook her head at him in turn. “It’ll take too long to do it all again, Raven. We’ve both got to make sacrifices, but if we hurry, we can have a warm meal and a warm bed tonight in Ulf’s Blade.”
He pawed at the ground with one of his front talons, still seeming disgruntled, but after a moment, he took wing. Peri watched after him as she finished folding the now-dried wool, then exchanged it in her pack for the maps, some charcoal, and another one of the honied cakes along with a long drink from waterskin which she intended to refill while they were here—assuming the water wasn’t polluted.
She’d heard about beasts in the southern parts of the Western Reaches who had died from the Blight—a wasting agent that seemed to eat away at the skin, or decay the innards if it were ingested. Many in the Western Reach had taken to testing their water on plants first, since the Blight withered them, as well, and raids from the Forsaken weren’t uncommon. A few wells on the border towns had been Blighted this past spring, and the Duchy’s alchemists were still seeking ways to cleanse them. (Stories were told that dragon fire might do the trick, but it wasn’t as if the Duchy had a ready supply of them to test the theory out.)
Still, when she saw a few silver fish darting about in the stream’s currents, she figured the water was probably all right.
While Raven hunted, and after she’d eaten and found a place behind some trees to tend to nature, she washed up in the stream, then begin making markings on the maps about the few things she’d noted along the way. It wasn’t long before Raven returned and took some time for himself by the stream. By then, she’d finished her record-keeping and was gathering up their things. She refilled her waterskin, heading a little way up the stream, took a few last gulps of mountain water from her hands, then headed back and remounted Raven.
They set off once more, flying south along the hills, and though the Lord-Doctor had told her not to go past the Duchy’s territories, she headed a little further south along the wall before retreating once more to the north and east. The sun was decidedly declined by the time they turned toward Ulf’s Blade, but she’d managed to catch a few of the Forsaken patrols for her later map marking. The Syndicate, as well, still lingered in camps along the Duchy’s borders, and while the Armistice held for now, both the Alliance and Horde appeared to be bolstering their forces in the Highlands.
She and Raven stopped briefly along the Winterspear River, a moment’s respite, before taking wing once more. By then the sun was setting, and she knew they’d be riding out the last of the day’s light and an hour or so into night. She pulled on the tabard she’d been given while they stopped, knowing that once they reached town, she didn’t want to have to explain herself at the army barracks.
“Better a tabard than a talk, right?” she asked Raven before they headed back to the air.
Watching the sun set from the sky was something she never grew tired of doing. The vista that spread out cloudless below her, the red ball of fire that trailed tears across the heavens before disappearing behind the mountain peaks, and the balmy cloak of golds, reds, and violets that settled over everything once it was gone—this she took in with rapt attention, assured that the lands below her were well-patrolled without her needing to add her eyes to them.
And as the sky darkened overhead, the stars began to offer their distant light as guideposts to lead she and Raven to their destination. From above, Ulf’s Blade held a warm, golden glow about it—the windows of houses caught in fireplace or candle’s light. The wind was pulling the chimney smoke to the east and south—a sign that a northern chill might offer a morning frost.
Decidedly bigger than Shade’s Rest with two roads leading into it, the town was surrounded in substantial wooden palisades with watch towers at corners, gates, and midway between. She had hoped to simply land at the army garrison there, but she knew if she tried, she’d likely be fired upon. She wasn’t coming from the north, but as this was a training ground for new recruits to the Duke’s armies, she wouldn’t put it past some aspiring recruits to mistake one mounted hippogryph for an ingenious spying party from Horde or Hinterland trolls.
Arriving at the southern gate, she waited while the watch there ascertained and confirmed her identity. The gates had been shut for the night, and she could have flown over them, but there were smaller side entrances reserved for official business like hers. When the watch master came out to inspect her, she’d had to present her insignia to him after explaining she had come to town to resupply while on a scouting mission from Shade’s Rest by order of the Lord-Doctor Gregory Lionheart of Winterfall.
The recitation of those facts, along with the name of her commanding officer (Knight-Lieutenant Hilde of the Shade’s Rest Outpost,) eventually garnered her entrance into Ulf’s Blade, though it was well after meal time and nearly light’s out in the training barracks by the time they’d done their due diligence.
“There’s an inn not far from the barracks, Private. They should still be serving food; though, drink is strictly prohibited. Mind you remember that, as the inn keep will report it if you do,” the watch master informed her.
She’d nodded her thanks, then headed to the stables to get Raven settled before seeing to herself. The stablehands were young—new recruits as she was, though a few weren’t dressed in army trappings. When one of the grooms on duty caught her eyeing one of the ones out of uniform, he smiled and told her, “Some of the lads here in town come in at night to help tend to the horses. They’re eyeing your Raven, as it’s exceedingly rare for us to stable a hippogryph.”
She nodded her understanding, watching the onlookers for a moment more before half-grinning at them. She then returned her attention to the groom. “Not much different from a gryphon, though he’ll be happy for a good brushing. We’ve been in the air all day, and he likes wool blankets if you’ve any to spare.”
The young man nodded to her, listening with care. At least she wouldn’t have to worry too much about him here.
“He’ll want a large tub of water, too—both to drink and to wash. But food is what he’ll be craving now. He hasn’t hunted since midday, and I doubt he managed much with the time we had.” She paused, adding, “He’d prefer two tubs of water, but don’t baby him, please. He’s as new to this as you and I are, and I want him to get used to the usual army fare.”
The groom grinned at her and nodded once more. “I think we can manage, miss.” He was quiet for a few moments as he took the reins from her hand and began leading Raven to a stall. “You being reassigned here for training?”
She followed after them, shaking her head. “Just staying the one night. Here for a resupply before we head out again tomorrow.”
“They’ve already got you on a mission?” he asked, glancing back at her with a surprised look as he opened the stall door and led the hippogryph inside.
“Is that so surprising?” she asked, wondering if, without the helmet on, she looked younger than she was.
He shrugged, a sheepish grin catching his face before he turned back and began unsaddling Raven. “Never seen a private on a solo mission before. Guess I just wasn’t expecting it is all.”
Peri nodded at his words. “Ah…” she offered in thoughtful understanding. She stood there a few minutes more, watching the groom at his work before turning to head out.
“If he gives you any trouble, I’ll be back at the barracks in an hour or so. Headed over to the Split Cask for a bite to eat, since we missed dinner.” She paused, adding, “His name’s Raven, and while he doesn’t mind people, I’d steer the looky-loos away for tonight. Long days make for grumpy gryphs.”
She glanced back to see him nodding and watching after her. When he caught her eyes, he smiled, trying to reassure her as he offered, “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure he gets his space.” He added with a grin, “After a good brushing, a few rabbits, some water, and …wool blankets was it?”
She grinned back, her shoulders lowering a touch as she finally let go of the worry that had been building since they’d landed before the gates. “Yeah,” she nodded. “Wool blankets.”
After another nod to her in parting, and as she watched him pull down a grooming brush—different than the sort they used for horses she noted (softer bristles…) she turned and headed out.
The trek down from the garrison to the main town wasn’t too far, and after five or so minutes, she found herself swathed in the golden glow of the Split Cask Inn and Tavern.
The place was, to her mind, huge. She’d seen the inns in Fjalheim, of course, but she and her parents had never stayed. Home was never far, and her father preferred the wilderness to anywhere that wasn’t home. As she passed through the door and into the warm, cramped tavern, her ears that had only had the wind for a companion most of the day were suddenly assaulted by noise. Laughter, chatting, a not half-bad musician, and the commotion of people waiting on tables all assaulted her along with the smells of cooking meat and wood polish.
She eventually found her way to the bar where a bald-headed man was tending to customers. He was hawk-nosed and well-muscled, and what bits of hair that remained to him, were a frosted black on the sides of his head, which he looked to shave from time to time. He wore no beard or facial hair, either, and when he turned his grey eyes on her, there was something in them that indicated he was dangerous. But then he offered her a smile, and that look she’d seen was gone.
“Down from the garrison? Off-duty, or new recruit?”
“Passing through, actually,” she replied over the din. “And late to arrive. They sent me here for a meal.” She paused before adding, “But no drinks. Otherwise I’m told I’ll be reported.”
At this, the man laughed, and for a moment she found herself enveloped in the warmth of it. After his mirth abated, he moved closer and leaned in, speaking almost conspiratorially, “Jarvin’s the one who does the reporting, but I promise not to tell if you do.”
She arched a brow at him, then lowered it. “Which one’s Jarvin?”
She followed his pointed gaze toward a man standing in a door off to the side. It looked like the kitchen was behind him. He was tall, round, red-cheeked, and could cut through the noise with ease. Where her co-conspirator was muscled, Jarvin was soft, with a large belly and wide shoulders.
“Huh.” Peri looked back at him, giving him an amused half-smile. “While I promise not tell about your possible misdeeds with others, I think it best if I stick with something lighter tonight. Early day tomorrow.”
He shrugged at her and leaned away. “Early day, hey? Well, what’ll it be, then? Stew, pot pie? Tea?” He offered this last suggestion with a bit of sneering amusement.
“Pot pie…and maybe some warmed milk?”
He seemed disappointed that she hadn’t bitten on the tea, but he nodded in turn. “Warmed milk with honey, I think—if I don’t miss my guess?”
She offered him a wry smile. “Just because you know how I like my milk doesn’t mean you know me.”
There was another bit of laughter from him, but he offered her a genial nod, before calling over one of the waitresses for her food and drink order. That attended to, he returned to his other customers at the bar, leaving her to her own devices.
Her attention shifted away from him and the patrons at the bar to take in the rest of the tavern and the people in it. It was a fair mix between enlisted and civilian people, and while the musician seated near the fireplace with his lute was largely ignored, he didn’t seem to mind—rather like he was playing more for the practice than the attention. As her eyes roved around the room, she spotted a darkly hooded figure in the corner farthest from the fireplace. They, too, appeared to be eyeing the rest of the people in the room.
The bartender’s voice came from behind her. “Ah…noticed him, too, hey?” She glanced back around, her mouth quirked upward between amusement and frustration.
“Do you always manage to involve yourself in everyone else’s business?”
He grinned, his spirits clearly undiminished. “Of course. That’s my job. Talk to the customers, get their orders, listen to their problems, and keep their glasses full.”
She gave him a skeptical look before returning her attention to the hooded figure. “Odd that they’d keep their cloak on inside,” she offered, deciding it was better to engage than let him goad her further.
“Mmm,” he offered by way of agreement. “Been there half the evening, and even Maerla says he’s hardly touched the whiskey he ordered.”
Perigryne glanced back at him. “I take it that’s not usual either?”
He touched his left finger to the tip of his nose, the grin having dimmed to a smile. “He’s definitely a newcomer, but not everyone wants to be seen, even in a crowded tavern.” He offered the last with a dismissive half shrug of his shoulders before the waitress who’d taken her order from him returned with a tall, steaming mug.
She leaned in as she left the mug. “Don’t let Stephen get under yer skin, miss. He’s harder to put off than ever’a dog with a bone.”
She offered the young waitress a wry grin as the woman turned and headed back into the crowd.
“Everys tell you to steer clear of me?” he asked a moment later, once more at her side of the bar.
Rather than answering, she took up her mug, her gaze returning to the hooded figure as she took a long drink.
It was better than she remembered from home, somehow, and for a moment, as her eyes closed, she just savored the warm, thick, sweetness as it coated her mouth and throat on the way down. Only to be interrupted by Stephen.
“If you think -that’s- good,–”
She opened her eyes abruptly, turning to look at him as she interposed, “Don’t. Just don’t.” She added as she saw his faux hurt (hiding his abiding amusement,) “And yes. She told me you were worse than a dog with a bone.”
His expression changed back to a cheeky grin. “Depends on the bone.”
His eyes held his laughter as she rolled her own at him before pointedly looking away once more (though she could feel his gaze still on her.) “If you’re going to just stand there all night, you could at least …” She looked back to find him already gone to another customer. “…pretend like you’re working.” Her final words were uttered softly, and she found herself watching him as she continued to drink from the mug while waiting for her pie.
He seemed to know just when he was needed, moving from person to person at the bar, addressing those who came to the counter and taking their orders, greeting those he knew with a comment that made them smile. It was clear to her after only a few minutes that he was man who made the tavern feel like home for the rest of the people that came here. His easy, and often teasing, manner was just disarming enough that even she had let her guard down.
Everys returned with a plate on which was a pie tin filled with a top layer of golden, flakey crust, and something steaming and divine smelling below. “Chicken, today,” she offered with a smile as she noted Perigryne’s devouring look, then glanced over toward Stephen. Perigryne’s gaze followed hers. “Jarvin knows he sneaks drinks to the recruits, but even he won’t tell him to stop.”
Their gazes met as Everys returned her gaze to her. “Need anything else?” she asked.
Perigryne just shook her head, offering a smile in kind to the waitress. “No. Thanks, though.” As Everys was turning away, Peri realized she hadn’t asked about payment. “Err…wait…uh….how much?”
Everys looked back, her features caught in surprise. “Enlisted get meals on the house.” She added with a bit of a grin. “Granted, they have to pay for their drinks, but the garrison sends down supplies from time to time for Jarvin’s kitchens; so, it all works out in the end.”
Perigryne’s mouth was still open at this pronouncement, and after a moment, she merely nodded her head and offered, “Right. Thanks, then…”
Everys returned to waiting on other tables, and she turned her attention to her pot pie.
And it was heaven.
Warm, flakey crust; meaty bits of chicken, hearty sauce, perfectly cooked peas and carrots, and just the right amount of onions for flavor. If customers came to the Cask for Stephen’s hospitality, they definitely stayed for Jarvin’s food. Which made her wonder about the state of his bar and cellars, if everything was this good.
She was granted a reprieve from Stephen’s teasing while she ate, and she took the opportunity to merely enjoy everything in blissful, devouring silence. When she’d pushed the plate back and had been drowsing for several minutes afterward in a comfortable food-coma-haze, an elbow was leaned on the other side of the bar counter, and Stephen’s knowing eyes found her own. “Just the worst food ever, isn’t it?”
She stared at him for a moment before offering a tired smile. “If I weren’t already full, I’d order another.”
“I’d call that high praise, but you’re drinking honeyed milk; so, ….”
And that finally got her to laugh.
This seemed to be what he’d been aiming for as he pushed back and took away her now-empty plate, glancing in her mug to find a few dregs still there. “Want anything else before you head off?”
She shook her head, glancing back over toward the darkened corner. The hooded figure was gone.
“Probably ought to get going then. Otherwise, you’re liable to fall asleep at the bar. And Everys -knows- what might become of you then.” He’d said Everys’ name like others might have said Odyn’s, and this, too, made her smile.
She turned as she fished around in her pack for her coin pouch and dug out a silver and a few coppers. It wasn’t much, but it was nearly half of what she’d had before she left home, minus the gold piece her mother had hidden away among her things.
“What? A soldier actually paying for something?” Stephen said this as though it were a miracle of sorts, though the smile on his lips and the teasing light in his eyes marked the gesture gratefully.
She left them on the counter as she stood from the bar stool she’d managed to snag from a departing patron earlier. “Consider it a request from a pitiable soul who wishes to be more than a bone to pick,” she offered with a warm, though tired, half smile.
“Your request has been heard,” he offered with mock solemnity, making the coins disappear behind the counter in turn.
“Hey, share that with Everys, too!” she protested.
This time, there was nothing mocking in his words as he offered, “Always, miss.” At this he nodded to her. “Now get going. If you’ve an early morning, I don’t want you to regret your time at the Cask. Be a shame if your ugly mug never showed up here again.” In spite of herself, she met his once more teasing smile with a grin as she turned to go.
“Request denied, I see,” she offered with a quiet laugh as she made her way through the thinning crowd of patrons to the door.
When she paused at the door to glance back into the room, he caught her eyes with his own and offered a wave. She returned it with a nod and a half-raised hand before heading out into the dark street.
The walk back to the garrison seemed lonelier than when she’d first made it, and while she found herself wrapped in the warm glow of a full stomach and welcome camaraderie (a sensation not unlike that of being at home with her family,) the evening at the tavern couldn’t quite dispel the fact that, as the groomsman had said, she was on a scouting mission—alone.
Well, …not entirely alone. She still had Raven, she supposed.
As she entered the garrison and offered a tired salute to those on guard duty, she let go of a sigh. It had been a long day, and tomorrow would be longer.
“Wait!” called one of the guards, just before she walked into the shadow of the barracks. “Are you Private Perrigryne?”
Stifling a groan, she turned around, doing her best to muster a semblance of a smile. What on earth did Raven do now?
He ran up to her, holding out a bit of parchment and a sealed letter. “I was asked to give this to you by the Watch Captain.”
Perigryne glanced down at the proffered items before taking them and looking back up at him. She nodded. “Thank you, Private.”
“Jorgenson,” he offered, with a relieved smile. “I thought they were playing a prank on me. But I guess not.”
“Seems that way,” she agreed, uncertain in her fuzzily tired state of mind what more was expected of her.
“Well, good night, then,” he said with a nod before turning and heading back toward his post.
“…night,” she managed as her eyes trailed down to the bit of parchment in her hands along with the sealed letter. Looking closer at the seal, she noted it bore the Lionheart crest.
Her brain froze at that bit of information, refusing to instigate any form of speculation; clearly, she was far too tired for this. But since the message and the letter had been delivered, she supposed she had no other choice than to see what it was all about.
Moving over toward one of the nearby lit torches, she unfolded the note and began to read:
In light of your current mission, and because we have been tasked with ensuring this missive reaches its destination, you are hereby ordered to deliver this into the hands of Sir Ivar of the Hunt. Although retired from service, he makes his home in Ragnar’s Rest.
Esarus thar no’Darador!
Knight-Captain Lief of the Silver Hand
As she read, her shoulders slumped, and upon re-reading it the second time, her eyes closed as frustration began to build within her.
Ragnar’s Rest isn’t even anywhere -near- where I’m going! she silently fumed to herself. Gritting her teeth, she opened her eyes, a resigned, frustrated sigh shivering the flames of the torch. She could protest the assignment, of course, but by the time she’d managed to explain everything to this Knight-Captain Lief, she’d likely have had the time to deliver the letter and be back again. Not to mention that she was fairly certain she’d just be told to do it anyway.
And while she wanted to crumple up the note and send it flying as far as she could muster, she instead merely curled her left hand into a fist as she turned to head toward the barracks and a waiting bunk, note and missive carefully held in her right.
The room was fairly dark, though a few candles were still lit beside the door. Straining her eyes against the shadows, she eventually found a bunk that appeared to be unoccupied, no footlocker waiting at the end of it for some poor sap stuck on the night watch.
So much for scouting the border, she thought, as she stuffed the papers away in her backpack and made her way over to her new bed. As she flopped down on the disappointly hard mattress, she tucked her backpack under her head. Belatedly, she thought about digging out her blanket from the bag, but all the troubles of the world could wait for the morrow as her eyes closed, and she was soon lost to dreams.