One barely had to raise their head to see the destruction wrought down upon the Grey Tower and the city of Hama Valon. It was hardly fair to call Hama Valon a settlement at all now. What had not been consumed by flame had been looted by Seanchan or Shadowspawn, or just Hama Valoners attempting to salvage anything of worth. Throngs of townsfolk lived within the Tower grounds in makeshift tents, whilst they waited for their lives to start again. Sabine could sympathise. The Grey Tower was also holding her back, from living the life she wanted, not the life that had been thrust upon her.
Sabine stepped back away from A'vron, giving the mare a gentle kiss and a final pat before continuing on with her chore. "I will be back for you soon, Watcher." A'vron whinnied again, watching her owner with wide dark brown eyes. Sabine looked back forlornly, and returned under that sorrowful stare. She wanted nothing more than to jump on A'vrom's back and ride until the sun rose over the Caralain Grass, or the Plains of Maredo, or the Sea of Storms. Many here had forgotten, but Sabine ni Hayadan t'Masin was a Hunter of the Horn of Valere. She had learnt nothing of worth in her extended stay at the Tower, but she had also heard of no news that proclaimed it found. There was still time for her to make a life and name for herself, without any help from others.
She opened the saddlebags that lay on a hook just within A'vron's enclosure. She pulled something free, a discoloured map, well worn from use. She spread it open, balancing it carefully on top of the low fence. Sabine had stolen this from her husband's study before leaving Maradon: a near complete map of everything between the Spine of the World and the Aryth Ocean. It had to cost a fortune. The Tower had several, of course, but this was hers. She looked at the names of cities and tried to imagine them: Caemlyn, Cairhien, Ebou Dar, Tear.
It wasn't a sound that made Sabine turn around, but the casting of someone's shadow against the stables' walls. It was late at night, so only the dancing flames from the lanterns lit the figure's tall form. He was almost a foot taller than her, with a mop of unruly red hair and a way of moving that spoke of training. She first thought it was the Master of Training, but his man had a darker complexion and a foreign bearing. His expression was unreadable in the dark, but she had been caught standing doing nothing.
"Sorry Ji'alantin." She bobbed a quick courtesy to the Gaidin-in-Training. "I was just tending to my mare." She meant to come across as deferential, but her clipped Saldaean accent held a note of challenge. It probably did not help that she was also gripping hold of the map in one hand.



