[ The journey from the land of Iorveth's fellows, somewhat abandoned in the wake of his two allies having left, seems near pointless. They each know why she stands at his side and it is not for his company nor his friendship; the ever present pull of his shard against her body is enough to make her want to move closer, to sink her fingers into his chest and drag out the shimmering power so that she can use it, claim it for her own.
It's not so easy, however, even as she settles and considers what the future may hold for them.
They travel back towards Treun, now, towards the population, and her nerves are alight with it. She knows how people react to her, to the colour of her hands and the scars around her ears, the darkness that seems to follow her like an unruly shadow. She moves back, hesitant as she walks behind Iorveth but unwilling to let him see her weakness; it's been weeks, now, that they have travelled together, but that does not mean there is any trust for them to share. They work together because it benefits them both, not because they see one another as friend.
She wants to Turn, but she is on edge, tired, and dares not. Wolves are hunted as much as witches. ]
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march. (treun).