We have waited an agonizing winter, knowing that each day that passes may bring the knife closer to Fionn's throat. My Róisín is barely living, consumed by grief, and I am still recovering from my injuries. Neither the Brand nor the Crownsguard will do a thing, as the war rages on and resources are spent. A mixture of Righteous Brand and mercenaries tried to retake Ashguard, but they failed dramatically. We do not know if our Fionn is still alive or dead, or worse. My failure is the only child we now bear.
There are two wolves fighting within me: the wolf of hope and the wolf of despair. One hopes that my child will be found, that he is still living, and that the bastards that took him will be brought to justice. The other fears that he will be forgotten, or that he is already dead. It is all I can do now to wait for Spring and the news that this conflict might bear fruit.