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[Sylvan Sherwood]

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Umbra, Nujelm, home, family . . . all distant thoughts as she rode hard across the landscape. The minutes melted into hours as the hands of the clock marched ceaselessly onward. When an intrusive thought would try to come into her mind, Sylvan did her best to push it away. This was her time, time she wanted to feel as close to peace as she was capable of feeling; there was something very comforting about the thundering of Venture's hooves as his strides ate the miles. Despite the gnawing hunger that set her gut aflame, she pushed forward and stopped only to let the horse cool down and drink from time to time. Sweat and tears blended on her face, only to be dried by the wind when the thoughts refused to be kept at bay. Happiness. She kept hearing this word, and saw evidence of it in the expressions and postures of many people of the lands. Why was it so elusive, why did it seem beyond her grasp? Just as a quiet desperation was setting in, Sylvan saw the thin peninsula of land that jutted out into the crashing waves. She pulled her horse into a skidding stop, sat back as she pulled on the reins, and caused him to rear up on his hind legs.

She emitted a long, painful, primal scream that was filled with a lifetime of hate, fear, and agony. It was heard only by the sea and its birds. And in the quiet after, she realized she felt better.

[Sylvan Sherwood]

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The prolonged scream left Sylvan feeling empty and vaguely disoriented. She sat astride Venture, listening to the surf and the emptiness within herself. Ever the faithful companion, Venture snorted and tossed his head, as if telling her he understood and that he was there for her. Absentmindedly, she reached forward and patted his withers as her gaze scanned the horizon . . . all the while wondering what it was she was looking for there. Minutes ticked by, and her eyes remained locked on that distant line that was beginning to fade with the day's end. Without realizing she'd made the decision to make her way back with as little use of magical travel as possible, she finally broke the stare and looked up. Stars were beginning to dance into the darkening sky, but she quickly looked away. The constellations here were alien, frightening still, to her.

A soft clucking sound and a gentle tug upon the reins turned the horse away from the shoreline, and the pair began the trek back along the route which they had followed in getting to this remote place. Still she hungered, yet knew she would not slake the need. Oftentimes Sylvan found self-denial cleansing in a way she couldn't quite articulate when occasionally people questioned her about it, why she did it, or the need to do so. Thoughts of the sauna at home were inviting and comforting. After such a ride and being so drained emotionally, time there would be welcome. She could practically feel the cloth of her favorite robe clinging to her skin, so vivid was the idea of sitting alone and looking at the mosaic walls she'd installed herself as the heat and humidity further cleansed her body and mind.

But the home in the Malas valley was many hours away, even if she should hurry her sturdy horse. No, she thought, it would not be fair to him. Besides, it would be dangerous to ride back as hard as they had out in the light of the day now that the light was faltering and beginning to fail.

It was going to be a long journey, in so many ways.