The Grey Tower

Fiona leaned against a fence post in the practice yards, her fingers absently combing through her curls. She had worked hard since before dawn, and -in her mind- deserved the break. The Andoran had known before she signed the books that she would have to push herself to stay in stride with her peers; she had not realized until several days after exactly how much such a process would hurt. Or how bloody annoying it was to have her every movement dictated to her by a freckle-faced redhead only a handful of years older than she. She thought he was trying to be kind, sometimes, and could almost forgive him. At others, she found herself saying and doing things purely to see what would happen, because that stone face of his infuriated her.

She looked up when she saw a flash of white, and found herself facing a woman about her own age, with lively green eyes, brown hair, and the look of Cairhien about her person. She’s tiny! Fiona thought, surprised. “Good morning,” she said warmly. “I am Fiona, can I help you?”

“I’m Avyra. I'm looking for Ravak Gaidin,” the other woman said, “do you know where he is?”

Fiona blinked in surprise. Earlier that morning, an impossibly tall Accepted had asked her a similar question, barely pausing to hear the response before hurrying on. “Everyone wants to know where Ravak bloody Gaidin is,” she commented grumpily, “and I can’t imagine why. I think someone put lemon juice in his morning porridge.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she covered her mouth with her hands in horrified shock.