Thread: Flower in the Grove (Atroxa & Rivine)

Galan remained where he was, lounging beneath the apple tree where he had spent the night. He was stretched out upon the grass, his sealskin cloak spread out beneath his to keep the damp off of him that was the result of a light rain that had come on during the night. The light drizzle had been pleasant enough since he had a tree to shelter under, not to mention the cloak which was excellent as repelling rain. But the cloak was not on his mind at the moment, rather it was his next destination. He had been wandering aimlessly for the past week or so, having worn out his welcome at Honeyholt. Really, Lord Beesburry had been far, far to upset. After all, his daughter was married, it was not like she had been a maid. A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he thought back on how the woman had pursued him. Not only had she not been a maid, he highly doubted he had been her first lover outside of her marriage. But that was in the past. So was the warm bed and the three meals a day. Sighing he sat up a bit, his back resting against the tree behind him. He had a bit of food left in his pack, mostly consisting of bread and cheese. But he would need more then that. It was often a crime to hunt or trap game in many of the lands in the south, but he had still kept it up. To him it was ridiculous that a man could not be allowed to put food on his family's table. He knew well that the punishment might be loosing a hand, although he would claim he was willing to take the oath to the Night's Watch before it came to that. Of course he also went by a pseudonym, so it would not be hard for him to slip away and for him to just disappear. Of course that would all imply that he got caught first, which he did not plan on having happen. Grabbing his pack he quickly fished through it for a few things twine and a bit of bread. He rose then and checked himself over. His dagger and hand axe were still in place, as was his knife. With the twine and string in hand he wrapped his pack up in his cloak and stored it up in some of the lower limbs of the tree so that it was out of reach of most critters. He then set out into the grove, hoping to find a game trail or two. As he walked through the old grove he could not help but wonder at who might own this land. It was not overly close to any major castles, Horn Hill being the closest, which was well over fifty miles away if he reckoned it correctly. After searching for awhile he found that game trail and set up his traps and baited them, doing three in all about fifty feet apart, if not more. Having done all of that he moved off down to a stream that he knew was nearby. However he froze when he heard a sound he was not expecting, the sound of a horse breathing. Cautiously he moved out of the trees much further down from the horse. He approached slowly, but the animal heard or smelled him and stopped eating grass. The horse's head rose and he froze. But his eyes drifted from the animal as he noticed motion nearby, then blinked. The long, flowing blonde braid gave it away, as did the material her clothes were made of. Here was a highborn woman. He, on the other hand, in his poor linens and leathers, looked almost light a ruffian. He cleared his throat and called out, Apologies my lady. I did not expect to find anyone here...