Episode 2: Already So Far From Home

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The remaining night was quiet after the goblin attack; anything else which thought them to be easy prey had obviously taken the littered piles of stones spread throughout the field which had once been goblins to be a sign that this prey was armed.

Abigail tossed and turned before settling into sleep. Using her magic so openly felt strange after hiding it from her father and the rest of the House of Green. When she realized that no one else had even batted an eye, an odd feeling washed over her, and it felt comforting. The feeling was acceptance...

* * *

MacGregor, too, had difficulty sleeping. For him, however, it was the opposite feeling which invaded. It was the distinct feeling that all he had once new, all that which was familiar he could feel fading away.

What am I doing here? he wondered. It was not the fact that he was leaving those lands which he knew so well; he had travelled a bit, to the great city of Bran with Lord Underwood a few times, and while he knew the lands better than any man, he felt that the world outside was not so different. It was not the goblins, for he had seen them before, and even fought them (although not in such numbers, he admitted to himself).

No, it was not these things which bothered him. What bothered him was the image of his childhood friend drawing forth powers he had never even suspected. He looked in on the sleeping Abigail, and almost asked aloud: What else don't I know about you -- and when did I stop knowing?

MacGregor sighed and stared into the fire, deep in thought about the sudden changes in his life.

* * *

A fog had settled around them by the next morning, making it grey and close. Abigail awoke to the smells of breakfast cooking, and MacGregor stood by the fire half-successfully cooking breakfast. She regarded her childhood friend and wondered if she could trace back that first moment that the division had formed between them, when she had become a noble and he had descended to servant.

MacGregor noticed her and smiled. "Good morning, m'lady. Care for some breakfast?"

After adding some spices to the well-cooked (if tasteless) breakfast, Abigail dished it out to the now-awakening group before granting herself a small bowl and sitting down.

They ate in mostly silence as the morning fog slowly burned off. An aggressive sun blazed through, making the day warmer and lifting spirits as they travelled. MacGregor rode on ahead on Halifax, and Milton twitched to see the horse running freely. "Oh, all right," said Abigail haughtily, as she squeezed slightly with her ankles.

Milton needed no second encouragement. Both he and his rider were thrilled by the sudden burst of speed. On she rode, ranging on ahead, until she found her self laughing, as if the speed had somehow, if only for a moment, sped ahead of her troubles, leaving them languishing behind her in the dust.

They travelled on over the grasslands that day. They passed the occasional farmstead, with busy reapers bringing in the early harvest of grain, or root farmers tilling for their crops. They nodded as the strangers passed them, but quickly returned to their labours.

Ioan pointed out that they were now beyond the specific borders of the House of Green and in somewhat disputed territory. "It would be a good idea if someone scouted ahead, Lady Abigail, and I have a spell I've been wanting to try..."

"Um, alright," she answered, tentatively.

"I'll need to be by the river to do it." Ioan turned to leave. "Oh, and I'll catch up to you later," he added.

Ioan walked South toward the river. Minutes later, a loud crack of thunder rolled up from that direction, and something roared up from the direction of the river.

"Is that supposed to do that?" asked Isobel uncertainly.

Uther shrugged. "Who knows whats good for fish?" he answered.

"Water," Isobel pointed out impishly.

Uther grimaced and ignored her. "So if we aren't on your lands, who owns them now?" he asked.

"The Dougal family lies to the North," explained Abigail. "And the Morgan family to the South."

"The Dougals!" spat MacGregor. "They are nothing but braggarts and bullies!" He noticed Abigail's gaze on him and looked away sheepishly. "Forgive me! I --"

"No, Wish, you're right." Abigail waved away his protests. "I've heard Father use far stronger words than that for them, and I'm inclined to agree. I haven't met many of them, but they seem to be mostly bullies and braggarts to me."

"Dougals?" asked Uther. "I think I remember a Dougal, once, long ago..."

"You think you remember everyone, once, long ago!" Isobel chided.

"I think someone said that to me once, long ago..."

* * *