Forest East of Amon Obel

The Brethil Forest continues here as its beauty and silence amaze you. The trees here are very large and they crowd each other for the light. You can hear some animals scurrying off in the distance as they make their way through the forest. You can see that paths lead off to the northwest, southwest, east, and southeast.

Pale morning light begins to inch its way through the thick cover of the forest, first spreading a bluish shadow that is followed gently by yellow sunlight while birds sing through the branches, calling to one another as the world awakes and the forest comes alive. Upon the path that leads back to the west of the Amon Obel, the wooded hill, walks Finnabair alone, clad in woodland hues that would have her blend with the forest were she not walking boldly upon the path with bow in hand. Her pace is unhurried, her eyes searching through the trees, flickering to the sounds of the forest about her and she pauses now and again to quietly mark a feature of the land or the passage of some creature.

The sound of an axe hitting wood comes clearly through the forest near this area. From the quality of it, someone is splitting pieces of wood none too far away, rather than attempting to take a tree down. In between blows, the sound of someone moving what might presumably be the pieces of log to be split is audible.

The echoes of the axe call Finnabair's steps to a halt upon the path and she turns an ear toward it, discerning the direction before moving toward it. The ground is soft and forgiving beneath her feet, making her passage a silent one as the repeated strokes of the axe sound closer and clearer to her through the trees ahead. The rising sun pulls the shape and form the forest and approaching without caution, Finnabair brushes aside the branches that block her path, disturbing a half dozen small birds that flap and chitter noisily before settling higher in the canopy overhead.

Corrin is standing in a small clearing, just behind his lodge, his axe raised over his shoulder as he chops wood. As the birds are disturbed by Finnabair's motion, he turns to look that way, hands still on the shaft of his axe as he attempts to make out what caused the disturbance. He speaks a few words in Haladin, obviously some form of inquiry as he peers in Finnabair's direction.

Scurrying down a dip in the land where a small trickle of water runs across the path, Finnabair jumps its narrow width and comes to stand still upon both feet, her bow resting lightly upon the ground as she listens again, now that the sound of the axe has ceased. Hearing a voice, a question though the words are meaningless to her, she carries on, hurrying up the steep slope where the land rises again and the trees thin to the edge of a clearing. Spying first the roof of the lodge and then, as the trees fall away and she steps clear of them, Finnabair finds a man standing there with an axe, and knowing him for Istadris' cousin, she lifts a hand in greeting, speaking his name, "Corrin." Slowing in her approach, she pauses a short distance from him, waiting, glancing at the lodge behind him.

Lowering his axe, Corrin nods to Finnabair, and greets her in her own speech, saying, "Finnabair, is it not? You have come down from Amon Obel?" Wiping his forehead with the leather wristband around his right wrist, he asks, "Were you seeking Istadris?"

Setting her greatbow to the ground before her, it rises just above the Beorian woman's own height and she nods her head, "It is Finnabair.", she answers Corrin, squinting as a ray of sun blinds her momentarily and then is blocked again by the movement of the trees on the wind. "I am not seeking Istadris, but is he here?", she inquires absently, "I knew he wished to see those of your family." Restlessly, she runs her hands over the wood of her bow, glancing often to the trees beyond the lodge.

"Not at the moment," admits Corrin, resting the head of his axe agains the cut off base of what was once a rather large tree that he uses as a cutting board. The Haladin straightens his shirt slightly as a wind blows through the clearing, ruffling his short brown hair. "The healer Aldawin is inside my home, however, tending to my wife. I was preparing more wood for the fire," he says simply, with a nod towards the nearby woodpile. Corrin's gaze seems to rest more on Finnabair's bow than on the ranger herself, as if evaluating it in a professional manner.

Finnabair nods again to the Haladin's answer, shifting and frowning uncomfortably as a moment's silence passes between them, the noise of the wind passing through the trees and the continuous song of birds filling in the space. Glancing back at Corrin, she asks of him, "Give Istadris my greetings if you see him before I have chance to. I will be back this way." Picking up the bow again, she raises her hand in farewell and makes her way toward the trees behind the lodge.

Corrin raises a hand in reply, then moves to place another block of wood on the chopping block. Soon, the sounds of wind in the trees is interrupted once more by the sound of axe-blows, and all is as it was before.