Stone Circle Wisdom comes with age,

In the wake of the incident, the name of the accused was forgotten, though the image of his face remained in her mind. They had crossed paths not long before the incident with the witch- and with a pang of regret she recalled the hesitation she’d felt the moment she’d met him.

Her chest continued to feel fight. Her broken ribs seemed to take an age to heal, though she travelled at a slow pace more often than not anyway. But laying down to sleep had become agonizing, though exhaustion would eventually knock her out. 

She dreamt of the witch, of the face of the silver-ticked man who had aided her, and in the waking moments wherein the pain was the worst, she found herself sinking into a deep paranoia. She kept to herself, believing fully that she had been cursed. And day by day, she’d begun to believe that the man she’d accused was her assistant.

She clung to some hope she might rid herself of the curse and cease the aching in her chest, and the fog that had settled into her memory. Light had become almost intolerable at times, giving her headaches and making her irritable. Whole outwardly, she looked almost completely unharmed, she bore the majority of her injuries on the inside.

Travel to Kvarsheim was slow, and she moved with the weight of having accused one of their allies of sheltering a man who was fraternizing with a murdered and witch. Her mind buzzed in the growing heat; she considered her options.

Once present amongst the group, she spared very little of her attention for anyone save from Gunnar. She’d noted the faces of those present, recognizing one key face in the small gathering, though she looked his way with such brevity that it should have appeared as though she hadn’t noticed him at all. 

She sat, quietly. Akavir touched his muzzle to her cheek but she flinched no more than she might under the feathery beat of a fly’s wing, as she .waited for the trial to begin