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Eostre sighed, staying at a steady pace behind the others until Sythric fell in behind her. Meghan seemed in an abnormal hurry; simply fear for their other companions, she wondered to herself? She glanced back at the village for a moment, the burning ashes of bodies far behind them, yet the smell still seemed to taint the air.
And who's young Meghan falling in love with? she wondered softly. Fion or Osmod? She seems to have quite an attachment to the latter...
But Eostre quickly corrected her thoughts before they ran off on a possessive tangent. She had no reason to be falling in love, not in the midst of a frantic mission, not with the possibility of orcs hiding around the nearest corner... though of course orcs hadn't burnt the villagers. That was folly in its purest form. No orc would have that much heart; at the most they might borrow a few of the bodies for their next meal and burn the bones.
And, at any rate, Sythric's too old for you, Fion's scared of you, and Osmod seems to appreciate Meghan far too much for her own well-being.
She sighed, listening in to the conversation between the two older men almost mindlessly. Not as if it mattered. It was simply another conversation, another curiosity, another... just another. Glancing ahead, Meghan led the procession. The girl's growing up.
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