"I promise."
"Then please return home safely."
Sera turned her eyes down to peer into those of her wife's. The Avanthar sat mounted atop her horse as her wife stood nearby, a hand resting gently on her leg. Despite having clearly heard the words the other woman had spoken, she had heard similar words of another echo within her mind, which she promptly shook off.
Get home safely. Please.
"I will do my best."
They had forged a delicate truce of sorts- for the sake of their youngest child's naming day celebration that would occur when Sera returned from handling her errand. It had, surprisingly enough, Catalina's idea. After a rather tense conversation between, they agreed to set their anger and resentment aside and celebrate.
Sera lifted the hand Catalina had placed upon her leg and gently touched her lips to her knuckles, before promptly dropping the hand and grasping the reins of her horse.
"Promise?"
"On my honor."
She clicked her tongue and snapped the reins, the horse began to move out of the stable yard and down the path.
Catalina watched from where she stood beneath the shade of the stable's arch, her thumb rubbing gently over the spot her wife had kissed, almost as if it burned or stung. Her eyes turning to look away from her wife's retreating form and towards the city walls, a frown beginning to form upon her lips.
She rode hard and fast across the landscape, keeping to the trails until she could no longer, hoof beats announcing her approach to the woodland creatures. Her heartbeat was smooth within her chest and a constant reminder that she was still very much alive, much like the creature she rode. Alive and filled with a spirit of fire. Silvery and blue fire.
"Easy. Easy girl." She soothed as she slowed her mount as the duo approached a bubbling brook beside what appeared to be an abandoned cave. Slipping down from the horse's back, Sera guided the horse over to the water source, tying off the reins to a low hanging tree branch nearby.
"Drink. I will be a while." She murmured to the animal before retrieving her saddle bag and making her way into the cave.
The cave itself was drafty and ended rather abruptly against a large stone wall, with a circular opening at the top, something almost resembling a chimney opening. Just below this opening would be what once was a fire pit of sorts and that is where Sera settled her saddle bag.
Retrieving various sticks, leaves and a few more rocks, the woman began to build the fire pit backup and with a match she had taken from a set in her bag, she set the arrangement ablaze.
Kneeling before the fire pit, she watched the flames flicker and dance, beginning to eat away at the fuel she had provided. Leaning back upon her legs, she retrieved pieces of paper from her saddlebag and began to tear them into long strips, feeding the pieces of parchment directly into the fire. The flames consumed each piece that was fed to it, devouring and producing twisting smoke that slithered upwards into the opening above.
Sera watched as each piece burned and turned to ash; her silver gaze seeming to give off a glow from the flames themselves. Whatever words that had been dutifully written upon the pages had been consumed and were now ash.
Her eyes watched as the flames danced and twirled before her, adjusting a rock or two before rising and retrieving a waterskin from her saddlebag and dumping the contents over the flames, dousing them, though smoke continued to rise upwards.
The woman eyed the smoke before grabbing her bag and leaving the cave, moving to handle the final part of her errand. Her head shifted upwards as she eyed the sun over ahead, noon she reasoned, still plenty of time.
Strolling away from her resting horse and the cave, Sera stepped nearly silently through the trees before stopping before a large oak tree. Lowering herself to her knees, she dug into the ground with her hands, pulling up the grass and dirt as she went. Making a decent sized hole, she dusted her hands off and opened the saddle bag once more.
Shifting her own things about, she retrieved a small, square box. Opening the lid, she examined the contents, a silent frown upon her features before she closed it with a soft clap and placed it gingerly into the hole she had made.
Covering it back over, she rose to her feet and drew a dagger from her hip. Stepping towards the oak's trunk, the Avanthar ran her fingers over the wood before adjusting her grip upon the dagger and digging the point into the bark. Her movements were jerky as she dragged the blade in each direction of whatever it was she was carving. It took numerous minutes before she was finished. The end result appeared to be a singular eye, with a jagged line crossing from the top of it straight through the iris and down to the bottom.
A sniff escaped her as she looked down to the spot she had dug up and then recovered, her mind shifting to what was buried there. And with a shake of her head, she moved away from the spot, the carved eye gazing after her as she made her way back towards her horse. As she mounted her steed, her head jerked back, looking in the direction of the buried box, a frown beginning to crease over her scarred features. She felt the gaze of the carved eye still, gazing past the line that attempted to blind its gaze. It looked into her very being and knew what was hidden there.
