In the hills, the Raven readies to fly
"Hah! Jokes on them ain' it"
Tetak-Annon hoots as he reads the increasingly filthy scrap of parchment.
"Why in Sets rancid balls should we care about some pampered house pet that the Prince calls a slave. Not that she ain't a looker. Fine ass. Seen her reg'lar like ridin' them racers the Prince breeds. Shame she'll not be sittin' riding any more stallions, a man could dream seeing bouncin' like that."
Thut spits to the side of the fire, "Like as not the fop is tired of 'er. I was glad being sent to the mines. Ya die faster at the Black Castle. Figures it looks good that even his own private stock kin be staked." He laughs. "Me, I'll die with a sword in my gut before that."
He makes a grab for the parchment, the corner tearing.
"Gimme that. That boy archer give me a five tin when I got him the last bit o' parchment. Little prick can write. He wouldn't be put'in on airs if ole Hep could catch his lily white ass. Quick monkey."
He wipes a grimy hand across his nose, stands, and limps out of the warmth of the campfire toward the rocky edges of the pass.
~~~
The drone of a fly pulls her out of her stupor and she drags into a seated position with a muted grunt. Her leg was on fire, flies clustered around the oozing pus, the arrow hadn't come out cleanly. Another grunt. This job had gone from bad to worse. Her face twists in pain as she carefully cleans the wound, letting it bleed as much as she dared before bandaging it. She had to find a healer. Another grunt as she stands, testing the strength of the leg.
A pause, she wipes the sweat from her brow and slowly finishes tucking away the last of her materials. The last of her food is eaten, water skin drained, final arrows slide into her belt quiver. Everything else gets rolled and tied tightly, looped around her body. She slides down from her aerie the last time, almost passing out when her leg hits an outcropping, her attention on the ship pulling in to the makeshift dock far below.
"Caught an arrow didja?"
The rough voice jolts her and she grunts, instantly alert. Relief follows. Thut wasn't one of the bad ones. She nods then shrugs as if it were of little consequence.
"Got another scrap so yer can scribble more" The archer nods at him, digging a grubby hand in to her belt purse and counting out a few scant tin for the exchange. With a nod of satisfaction Thut turns and starts back to the main walls.
Raven waits until he passes around a corner, then smooths out the parchment, rubbing the face with sand to pull as much of the blood and sweat out of it as she can. Then she freezes, eyes finally taking in the partial message. Something about it wasn't quite right, but it didn't really matter. Her shoulders slump.
This changed everything.