farther north than your maps reach, she answered. there was little pride in it—only fact. the north was a place most southerners named with a shudder or a curse, and she had grown accustomed to both. too cold for their thin coats, too harsh to survive. a place called stormrift.

she shifted her gaze to him at last, slow and appraising. you said you were sent here on mission, a brow knits. what was the goal? perhaps he would not even tell her—she had not done anything to earn it—but it was not like he could return now.

you cannot know how far my maps reach, retorted the roman, with an edge not of anger but of dry challenge. i do not know this name. yet i know the mountains and frozen pitfalls of more blasted northern encampments than i care to count. those honed there are near invincible in battle.
was she?
now she asked boldly after a mission which seutonius did not care about and had half-forgotten. i cannot tell you, he said in the same tone. but its words are vague and there is no glory in it. find the camp of barbarian traders. look for the criminal at their helm.
it may not even be fulfilled. he gestured disconsolately to his arm.

her tongue kisses her teeth, eyes lifting to meet his with something like a siren's pull. her mouth curves into a almost-smile, head tilting in amusement. if you had to ask, then i'm forced to assume the latter. a breath, but what you've seen isn't far from the truth—though I may just be bias.

she looked him over once more as he gestures to a bound arm. a soldier, through and through; she could see the discipline in how he held himself even now, wounded and waning. but she had learned that purpose could rot as easily as flesh, that devotion without meaning left nothing but ruin behind.

gjalla’s gaze softened slightly. some commands aren’t meant to be obeyed, gjalla said at last, returning her gaze to the stars. some wounds are blessings, if they stop you from walking the wrong road twice.

it is not bias if it is the truth. suetonius was looking at her again, at the warriorwoman limned in that starlight. beyond what charms might be searched for by a lesser man, he was able to sense a prowess and a spirit bequeathed to long nights in senseless march.
strange to find kindred only when laid low.
we will see what the gods decide. i am not in the habit of disobeying orders. not when they had defined his life entire, not when the final command might wrench open the final gate to peace.
suetonius smiled blankly. i am a guest in dawnbreak and have pledged my hunting to them after i have healed through their efforts. do me the honor of joining a chase when that time comes, if you have not continued on. the eyes touched with pain and knowing did not smile, only rested upon her own features.