“I’m sure it won’t be all that bad?” Guðríðr offered, “Igubela and Blær didn’t go either.”
Inyoni stopped suddenly and plopped down on her haunches. She was scowling (though not at anything in particular), “Igubela could have gone if he’d wanted to. And Blær likes to stay home.”
Guðríðr carefully, gracefully, sat down beside her mistress. She touched her shoulder to Inyoni’s, “It doesn’t have to be forever. Your father’s only asking you to give the life of a freeborn a chance.”
“I’ve been giving it a chance all my life,” Inyoni muttered, “I’m not impressed.” The leopard frowned slightly, awkwardly twitching her tail. Inyoni winced. “I mean—”
Guðríðr smiled (it was only a little forced). “You have higher aspirations,” she looked down at her paws, “I don’t blame you.”
Inyoni looked at Guðríðr as if she was seeing her for the first time.
After a moment, Guðríðr mimicked and exaggerated Inyoni’s expression of serious consideration. The lioness tried to stifle a snort and was wholly unsuccessful, which led to the pair bursting out in laughter.
“Anyone else would cuff you for that!” Inyoni said, shoving Guðríðr softly. The leopardess rolled with the blow, grinning.
“Indeed. It’s a good thing I have you wrapped around my paw.”
* * *
The sound of soft footsteps and the scraping drag of a body caused the lion to turn around. The thrall bringing in the guards’ meal was immediately recognizable; by the gold jewelry she wore, if nothing else. “Hello, Guðríðr. Waiting for Ru’s band?”
She gave a small nod and a timid greeting, and looked out toward the horizon.
The guard did not consider himself a sentimental man, but he had to admit that the thrall’s anxious vigil was touching… In a flower-blooded, lesser-felines-will-be-lesser-felines sort of way. He didn’t particularly enjoy having to be the one to give her the bad news. “No sign of them.” Guðríðr didn’t even show disappointment, anymore. He supposed she’d gotten rather used to the same answer, having received it every few days for (how long had it been?) nearly a year now. “Ru’s the only one honor-bound to complete the quest. Some are sure to come trickling back sooner or later. Your mistress will likely be one of them.”
Guðríðr didn’t dare contradict a reaver, but she knew better. Whatever the pride’s new (or… old and reestablished) views on female reavers, Inyoni wasn’t the sort to just give up. The leopard wasn’t sure whether or not the lioness wouldn’t ever return unsuccessful in a task, but she had a hard time believing it would be before many, many years had passed. Inyoni was kind of stupid that way.
* * *
“Wait! You’re going where with who?”
Inyoni’s response was somewhat muffled, given that she’d stuck her head into a pile of her things. “Out- I can’t really be more specific than that, seeing as it’s a quest. If we knew where we were going, it wouldn’t be much of a quest, would it? And Captain Ruzanski’s leading. It’s his quest really; the rest of us are just helping.”
Guðríðr’s stomach dropped. She’d heard rumors… “You can’t go with him! He’s been disgraced!”
Rolling her eyes, Inyoni turned to look at her friend. “He’s not disgraced; he’s just lost favor with the Warlord,” she placed a circlet on her head, “If he succeeds in these tasks, he’ll get it back. Problem solved. What do you think of this?” Inyoni threw a zebra pelt across her shoulders.
Guðríðr’s look of horror was misread. Inyoni frowned, “Too much? I suppose the stripes are a bit gaudy…”
“Forget about the stripes!”
“I can’t just forget about- ”
“Inyoni," Guðríðr padded over to the lioness’s side, “These tasks are impossible. This is exile in all but name.”
Inyoni seemed to consider this for a moment, then shook her head. “Nah. If the Warlord wanted to banish Ru, he’d have just done it flat out. The tasks are just meant to be really hard so Ru can prove himself. Just like in the songs.”
“Yes,” Guðríðr said, “Like in the songs of times long past. Maybe back then someone could get a piece of the moon-”
“Sky.”
“Whatever! The point is, no one can do these things today. The world just isn’t the same.”
For a moment, there was silence. “Do you really believe that?” Inyoni asked softly.
“Yes, I do.”
Guðríðr saw the same look in her friend’s face as she had on the day of Inyoni’s brothers’ first sending-off. “Well, I don’t. And I’m going to prove you wrong.”
As Inyoni turned to walk away, Guðríðr could feel herself losing her mistress. “Inyoni, please…”
The freeborn softly head butted her, and for one cruel moment, Guðríðr thought that maybe she’d made Inyoni reconsider. But Inyoni’s next words did away with any such illusions.
“Don’t worry about me. Tell the other’s where I’ve gone, okay? I’ll be back before you know it. Promise.”
* * *
Guðríðr had thought very seriously about running away. Deep down, though, she supposed she’d known it was only fancy. Even if she could get past the guards (and that was a pretty big if), she’d have no idea where to go after that. She didn’t even know which way Inyoni’s band (yes, Ru was leading the band, but Inyoni was in the band and Inyoni was the only one Guðríðr cared very much about, so in her mind it was Inyoni’s band. So there.) had gone. All the same, it was madding to simply wait. It seemed, at times, that the whole world had stopped.
It hadn’t, of course. Breytast Vindar came and went, as did the seasons. And Guðríðr had waited all that time… Coming to the gate time after time.
More for herself than the reaver next to her, Guðríðr said, “Maybe tomorrow.”
