[Airerûthiel]

Time slips by slowly, but it does not seem as though there is any change in the world outside the Green Dragon. Airerûthiel knows she cannot face the singing and jolity that awaits her on the other side of the door, but she also knows that if she stays out here much longer the demons of her past will slowly start to choke any positive thoughts she may ever have.

There is a pool of blood on the step near where she sits, and she stands up abruptly upon noticing it, aware that it will bring back the nightmares she has not been able to hide from for the last five years. She hears the sound of horses whinnying in the nearby stables, and she goes to see what the disturbance is.

There is nothing wrong; it is the typical 'conversation' that occurs between horses, strangers or from the same stable, at odd hours of the night. She whispers to them in the Ancient Tongue, "Roccor, sérë." Suddenly she hears footsteps echoing in the courtyard, and heavy breathing behind her, and she instinctively prepares her bow and arrow to shoot.

"Who goes there?" an unrecognisable voice shouts from the darkness.