[Nuranar]

One moment Lissi was calm, peaceful, and very much asleep. The next all her senses were wide awake and aware, controlled by sure maternal instinct. The gentle whisper of cloth on cloth, the subterranean creak of stiff joints, the deliberately muted movements, were nearly inaudible under the noise of the waking camp; and yet they had woken her up. Without moving a muscle, without conscious thought, Lissi catalogued every sound. She knew with the intuitive certainy of mother-wit that Faerim was getting up with every intention of stealth. Instinct having made its report and Intellect having deliberated briefly, Lissi lay still until the swish of tent flaps betrayed her son's departure.

Conscious mind now almost fully awake, Lissi rolled to her back and stretched slightly. She reflected distantly on the marvelous cognizance that came with motherhood. That night when Faerim was still so little: She, the ignorant girl-wife, had been roused out of the heaviest sleep she'd known in weeks, had found herself on her feet, halfway to the infant's cradle without any waking intention, and had rescued the little one from the bedclothes that nearly suffocated him. Carthor had been absent on duty that night, at that time a rare occasion. The baby one more asleep in her arms, she had paced the balcony in the warm, velvety night air. A lovely summer that had been... so warm, so clear...

Involuntarily Lissi's whole frame shivered. As the memory of that warmth faded, the cold penetrated her consciousness, and the hard ground beneath her penetrated the blanket as if it were pure ice. Sleep was irrevocably fled for the time being, and the outside noise was more insistent. Another day had begun.

With infinite care she slipped out from beneath the cloaks that covered her and Carthor. Her husband's head wound still needed care, although his burns had healed rapidly, and she had no intention of waking him sooner than need be. She slipped out of the tent more silently than Faerim, huddling on her shawl.

The calm air was crisp without bitterness, and it was mostly habit than a need for warmth that kept Lissi pacing while she smoothed and replaited her long black hair. Habit, and the desire to stretch her legs. Muscle memory was a wonderful thing, and she was a born horsewoman; but the forced neglect of years could not be remedied in a few days. The first week of bitter soreness was long past, however. Beneath the ever-present anxiety, and the even deeper despair, lay a simple but genuine delight to be riding once more. All that remained was a residual stiffness every morning, itself a joy to be walked off.

How glad she was they had brought Carthor's horse! His heartfelt joy at their reunion had moved her to tears. He was proud to ride beside her and Brander with the people - at the forefront of the people, nearest the advance guard, it was true. Brander, too, was making great strides. Lissi had known, even back in the city, that Morn would never be able to carry double for long. It had taken little time at the hold to find the extra horses. With their dead and wounded, there were quite a few horses to spare, and Lissi had chosen a steady, compactly-built gelding for her blind son to ride. After what he had managed in their flight through the city, she knew he was capable of riding on his own in ordinary times. Without the distraction of sight, he learned to ride by feel and motion. Now, Brander sat his horse with a straight back and the regal bearing and grace that only instinct can supply. Furthermore, although Lissi had led the gelding the first day out, Carthor had insisted on doing it from then on. For the first time, a closeness seemed to be growing between father and son.

Finished with her hair, she stuck her head back into the tent. Both were still sleeping. Carthor hadn't moved. Brander had, but his face was peaceful. Lissi's own frowned as an unpleasant caterwauling filtered through the canvas. She saw Carthor jerk in his sleep, and she swiftly turned around and darted through the tents. Stupid, noisey women! she thought savagely. Lissi did not suffer fools gladly, whether highborn or low. Petty jealousies and trivial but vicious spats had arisen in the last week as fear had faded. This was just one too many.

Amidst the screeches and yammering, she caught a few words as she neared their epicenter.
"...I told you..."
"...such nonsense..."
"... but the Elves..."
Rounding a large, flamboyant pavilion into the company street, Lissi saw the two culprits just down the way, a few gawkers already gathering. I'll put a stop to this one, at least! she thought, lips tightening.
"...all gone, the orcs have taken them!"
The fragment made her stumble. Orcs! A flood of dismayed surmise welled up within her.

The previous commotion was nothing to what the women could do when they really tried. A truly alarming exhibition of wails and lamentations assaulted her ears as she rushed up to the pair. "Ladies, come inside! This will never do," she said firmly, and bundled them into their tent with scant ceremony. Instantly she ducked back out. "Don't go anywhere," she ordered one of the erstwhile rubberneckers, whom she had noticed on her way in. Faerim froze, then nodded mechanically, aghast at the narrow-eyed imperative in her cold gaze.

Back in the dim chill of the tent, the wailing was still ear-splitting. "Please, you need to hush!" she cried over the racket. "We must be calm and quiet. Think what would happen if the whole camp panicked! You must be quiet." The shrewish face of the louder woman, red and distorted with crying, was mirrored in the wrinkled and stricken visage of her companion as both turned to her, but under the force of her authority the noise diminished to shuddering sobs and sniffs. Lissi sank to her knees and gently laid a hand on each of their shoulders. "Now, tell me what's happened." Their confused, convoluted story tumbled out in confused, convoluted words, but eventually Lissi grasped what they knew. Having comforted and, she hoped, impressed them with the importance of order to their safety, Lissi stepped back out of the tent.

Faerim was scuffing the ground absently and, she thought, a little nervously. He turned to her with a very shamefaced expression. Lissi forced him to meet her eyes for a full second, then took his arm and led him slowly down the row of tents. "Faerim, what do you know about this?" she said in a low but masterful voice that would brook no evasion.