Feydium
"Brieanne?" Julian strode rapidly through the halls of the rambling cabin.
"Brieanne." Only silence answered him. He turned down the hall toward her room, casting another glance upward at the ceiling rafters. The cabin had evolved in the 6 years Abrielle lived in it. Adding windows and interior porches, split level rooms and a myriad of nooks and crannies for reading or private conversations. They were also perfect for small children to hide in. Flora, on a rare visit after Abrielle's death, had diplomatically commented that the house was... organic.
The Master of Arden leaned through the doorway into his daughter's room, actually a collection of several rooms made of lofts and balconies, looking to the perceptive like a tree turned inside out. Toys lay scattered about, as did every pair of shoes the child owned. Julian grunted and frowned.
He paused, anxiously straining for any sounds the little girl would make. A giggle. A creak of a board. Nothing. The slow knot of worry that had been eating away at his stomach grew.
"BRIEANNE!" His voice echoed off the cathedral ceilings, reaching even the most distant parts of the house. Caine and Gerard, standing in the main hall, frowned. Worry for the child eclipsed by worry for her father. Watching Julian recover from Abrielle's death had been bad. Watching him lose their daughter would be considerably worse. They had persuaded Julian to search the house in desperate hope that she'd come springing out at one of them with a screech and a giggle.
Melle, aging Ranger turned man-servant, had admitted he had no knowledge of where Brieanne was. The Stablemaster was equally ignorant. The corrals and barn had been torn apart, as had the kitchen gardens, the shipyard and the Castle itself.
Julian scanned the steel gray sky as he headed back to the stables. He sent a mental query out to the hawks, who had been dutifully searching since Julian returned home half an hour earlier. Julian turned back from them in disgust. A fleet of hawks who could see nothing. Two of the Hellhounds were also missing, but that at least was a good sign. They were supposed to be with her. Several of the Rangers met him at the stable, grim, silent and patiently awaiting their orders.
"M' Lord? " One of the grooms straightened up, a father of four, he was familiar with the worry of being the father of an errant daughter. At Julian's nod the man began grabbing bridles. The Rangers grabbed their saddles, each heading for his own mount.
The dying sun blazed an angry, defiant red as it peeked out between the dark, dense cloud cover and the horizon. A cold, icy wind lashed the branches of the tree. Julian felt every chill, intensely aware of the sky's promise for one last winter storm before Old Man Winter relinquished his grip.
The damp, chilly air seeped through the heavy leather boots, stuck to the inside of his cloak and turned the edges of his ears an uncomfortable red. He searched the bush and trees intently, pushing aside pine branches and constantly yelling his daughter's name. He ignored the bare branches that clawed at him, searching for a spot of cloth left behind by her passing. Somewhere under the lowering storm was his daughter. Barefoot, with no more protection than two Hounds could offer her.
The storm descended with all of winter's fury behind it.
"Julian!" Caine grabbed his brother's arm, screaming to be heard above the winds. "Julian we've got to go back!" Caine had forced himself to admit he was exhausted and the Rangers, valiant and determined though they where, looked wilted. "We're never going to find her in this!"
The hawks had long since retreated to the trees and the hounds, struggling though the icy rain and brush, were making no progress. Julian paused, squinting through the driving rain into the gray gloom beyond, too hoarse to yell, and reluctantly agreed. On the other side of Arden, Gerard was waging the same battle with Carl. It seemed father and son had one concern in common.
The men returned to Julian's cabin, stumbling on tired, numb legs. Flora, shipped in by Eric for the occasion, fussed and flinted about the room and gave unnecessary orders to Julian's few servants. Not quite sure what she should be doing, but trying to make the best of the situation. Carl and Julian merely looked at each other before collapsing into chairs. Caine sank gratefully into the couch while Gerard propped up the fireplace. When they all flatly refused to consider baths or beds, Flora insisted that soaked boots be removed and then set about getting blankets. Mugs of coffee where handed out and the long vigil to wait out the storm commenced.
Julian came to with a start. His legs kicking out straight, arms flailing out, suddenly realizing that he'd fallen asleep. A quick glance around the room showed him that he wasn't the only one, and the other's had moved no more then he had. Caine stretched out on the couch, one bare foot perched on the armrest, an arm thrown over his face. Carl sat slumped in a chair, his hands in his lap, head rolled over to one side. Gerard was sitting on the hearth, his legs stuck straight out ahead of him.
Nothing here had woken him up. He immediately turned his attention to his hawks and was answered instantly. One of them had seen something.
"Brieanne!" Julian launched to his feet, hopping toward the door and trying violently to shove his feet into his boots. The others woke instantly, gropping for their wits and their shoes at the same time.
"Brieanne!" Julain bolted through the door seconds ahead of Carl, Caine and Gerard. Long accustomed to running through wet leaves and slick grass, Carl managed a slight lead over his Uncles, but could not gain on his father. As the mad dash continued and they pressed deeper and deeper into the woods, Caine and Gerard shared several worried glances.
They were brought up short by Carl, who had stopped several paces from his father. Julian stood stock still, focused intently on the hawks, who where searching again. Then, distantly, he heard the faint, odd sound of pipes. Carl and his Uncles watched, startled, as Julian spun around and started running again, Caine and Gerard shared another worried look across Carl's back as all three started running again. They'd only gone a few yards when Julian stopped again. This time they all heard it.
The sound was small and distant, but it was the unmistakable sound of pipes blowing discordantly. A thin, hollow sound with just enough strength to break through the morning mist before it faded into silence. The four men started cautiously in one direction, but picking up speed as hawks began arrowing past them chirping excitedly. Hellhounds quickly added their voices and were suddenly dashing past the men. A steady stream of animals focused on the same destination.
They burst into a clearing beneath a massive oak tree sweating and out of breath, and then speachless at the sight before them.
An armada of hawks filled the arms of the mighty oak tree and it's neighbors. Hounds yelped and shoved at one another in a single giant knot. And in the center of it all stood a small, bare foot little girl with bouncy blonde hair, blowing merrily away on a pan-pipe. Lilies and daisies where bound together in a wreath atop her head by a vine of small, bright purple flowers. Her dirty, unscratched knees, showing clearly beneath the hem of her dress were rivaled only by the mud caked to the bottom of her feet. She stopped mid-note to smile at her father.
"Daddy!" Brieanne giggled and waved the set of pipes at her father. "See what I got?" She giggled and skipped deftly through the weave of hounds to reach her father, who was kicking, stepping over and on hounds as he tried to make his way toward her.
Julian swept his little girl up into his arms. She nearly vanished within his hug, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. Carl sighed heavily and dropped back against a tree, sinking to the ground and burying his face in his hands. Caine bowed over, gripping his knees in his hands and started to laugh while he gulped in great lungfulls of air.
Carl and Gerard looked at him in confusion. Caine gasped out an explanation between breaths.
"Here we are... tearing every place apart...the house... the castle... the boats... searching through... storm and fall of night... we're dead... on our feet... and she... shows up... bright as a button... playing pipes... and wearing... flowers in her hair...." Caine took in one more breath of air before all three men froze, staring at the colorfull wreath of flowers adorning Brianne's brow.