Bramblepoint Prologue

"This should serve as our camp," said one keeper, whose voice prompted the others to splinter apart.
"I will take first watch." Another declared as they stalked off to sweep the perimeter, or whatever it is they do. His voice carried boldly through the wood, "I should like a break from the crying."

And I should like to sneak away as soon as possible, the young Master thought. He shifted restlessly beyond where the delegation had begun to scrape the earth and make their beds.
He could hear two of their kept women crying, or maybe it was the younger to the older, they were practically burrowed in to one-another. The elder of the pair had been a serving wench in his own father's employ. Balor had kept his eyes off of her for the duration of their travel. He had no desire to think of home.

The women were tended by a septon of his father's faith, who looked at once too old for their journey and in need of it, given how thick around the middle he was. Balor did not enjoy seeing the way those old, beady eyes focused upon both the girls in their misery. No, he had to get away from here.
I scented boar on the way in, I will find it. He called out to no one in particular. He was leaving as he said it. The sooner he could put distance between himself and this farce of a mission the better.

They had come north following the winding river. Instead of keeping to the woods, they had chosen to follow the lake and circumnavigate it over the course of several days. A body of water so wide and clean as that was a blessing back home, and so their travel time had been dragging.
The sooner Balor could slip the guard and make his own journey, the better. He stalked now in earnest after the boar he claimed to have found trace of, knowing full well that the guardsmen were occupied and the septon had his own more private hungers to attend to.

And there, a cry in the wood! A girl's shriek which would doubtless draw the guard's attention. They had tried to keep everyone safe and accounted for, as was their duty. Balor knew he was going to hell for leaving those poor girls with that man. It was his own bid for escape from the drudgery of this diplomatic mission.
He needed the head start.