When Eris found the strength to part from Marion, it was many hours later. The sun had come up, the camp had come alive. He dressed and pulled his unruly raven locks into a braid that he wounded into a bun, securing it in place by means of the bronze pin. As simple as it was, he was not willing to be without it. It was a gift from Marion and that made it priceless.

He drew the crimson robe around himself, straightening out the sleeves, before stepping out into the camp. By right, it ...