Adventure of Raedwulf

The healer remains with the Lycanrian Minor in the warm room, while Raedwulf, Sava, Alyndra, and Anewyn step into Hearthhollow’s cold orchard. Doubled wardfires paint the snow blue and gold.

Raedwulf tells Anewyn about the manor fire, hidden roads, fugitives, treaty hearings, thieves, noble claims, and the long work of building Hearthhollow into a refuge.

Anewyn walks close at his side, wearing a playful, curious smile and interrupting with eager questions. Alyndra watches with relaxed warmth as Raedwulf’s stories turn old danger into shared family history.

Raedwulf smiles at Anewyn, then turns toward Sava. His relaxed manner tightens into focused intensity as they follow the black thorn trail between the orchard trees.

The scraping comes again from beyond the same orchard tree, aligned with the deeper trail where the pursuer’s prints vanish toward the eastern ward.

Alyndra’s relaxed warmth fades into alert stillness. She draws Anewyn nearer without taking her eyes from the dark branches.

Sava studies the overlapping tracks and the black thorn sealed in the healer’s vial. The scraping stops, leaving only wind and the low murmur of wardfires.

The nearest ward-stone brightens toward the trees, revealing fresh disturbances in the frost but no visible figure. Hearthhollow’s watchfires answer with a steady blue glow.

Alyndra guides Anewyn toward the healer’s warm room, glancing back once with steady trust. Sava waits until the door closes, then follows Raedwulf into the orchard.

Raedwulf and Sava trace the deeper prints through frost and blue wardlight. They pass the eastern stones and find the source beyond the breach: a concealed hollow with snapped brambles, discarded cord, and fresh boot impressions leading outward.

Raedwulf crouches beside the concealed hollow, examining the discarded cord without disturbing its knots. The fibers are coarse, weather-darkened, and still carry the scent of ashwood sap.

He studies the boot impressions next. One traveler wore a square-heeled boot with a split sole; the other prints are lighter, narrow, and repeatedly overlap the Lycanrian’s trail.

Sava kneels opposite him, keeping her hands clear of the marks. Beyond the ward, the tracks turn east toward a ravine where frost lies unbroken beneath the trees.

A faint scrape sounds behind an orchard tree within the ward. Sava rises silently, and the nearest blue stone brightens toward the noise as fresh frost slides from a hidden branch.

Raedwulf lowers himself into the frost and draws a slow breath. Ashwood sap, cold iron, damp wool, and a faint resinous scent reveal the watcher’s position.

He moves silently through the snow, placing each clawed foot in the shadow of older prints. The ward-stone’s glow passes over him without catching his outline.

The scent leads behind a split-trunk orchard tree, where a crouched figure waits within the branches, facing the healer’s house rather than the breach.

Raedwulf slips nearer through the blue-lit snow. The watcher, a lean young adult human man in an ash-dark cloak, his face hidden among the branches’s narrow boots and ash-dark cloak become visible, along with a cord looped around one wrist.

The watcher freezes, clearly aware that concealment has failed. Slowly, the figure rises from behind the tree with empty hands held where both defenders can see them.

The watcher lowers his hands another inch and turns enough for moonlight to catch his wary face. His claim is heard, but the words sharpen Sava’s suspicion rather than easing it.

Raedwulf examines the cord and boot impressions without disturbing them. The coarse loop matches restraint work, while the split-heeled boot marks place the watcher beside the pursuit trail.

He steps into the blue light and slowly removes a sealed leather folio, extending it between two fingers. Sava accepts it without opening, while the ward-stone records the surrender.