There must be something wrong, she thought. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have… She stopped, raising her head a bit to rest her chin on the pillow. Or something right. She shook her head quickly. He doesn’t do that, though. He just doesn’t involve himself with others in such a way… What did I do to set this off? She rolled onto her back, jumping with surprise. A storm crow was perched on one of the poles of her bed. She peered at it closely. It didn’t sense as a druid would, but what would it be doing here?
She held her arm out to the crow, offering a perch. The crow tilted its head toward her arm, a second later hopping from the pole to her arm. She smiled. “Ah, my only comfort.”
The crow preened an out of place feather on its chest, obviously paying little attention to Sintas. She sighed. “…Maybe I should. He’s not perfect. But he’s someone, and he isn’t that terrible. And maybe I would have more influence over his decisions. That could lead to a better future…” She bit her lip. “But that shouldn’t be the whole reason, now, should it?” She smiled, watching the crow inspect its surroundings. “No, I shouldn’t allow someone so close to me just for a bit of influence. That’s terrible.” Sintas tilted her head, watching the crow a bit longer. She then flung it off her arm. “Nice try, Broll.”
The crow flapped recklessly, trying to soften its landing. A split second decision, however, returned the crow to the form of Broll Bearmantle, landing on his back side. He was much less heavily geared, causing his antlers to be all the more noticeable. He frowned at Sintas. “How did you figure it out?”
Sintas grinned. “Storm crows generally aren’t that social. I didn’t sense you very well, but something had to be amiss.” She folded her arms, leaning back on her bed’s headboard. “So. Why are you spying, then?”
Broll raised a brow. “I was concerned for you. Is that not reason enough?”
She shook her head. “No. Not for you to be bothering to use your talents for this type of silly, childish espionage, it’s not. Besides, since when did you concern yourself with me?”
He frowned. “Since Fandral picked you as his representative for the council meeting. It seemed slightly amiss, to say the least. And a while ago, a messenger was running for his life from the Enclave. That was suspicious as well.” He smirked. “What did Fandral do? Just look at him or did he give him an actual glare?”
Sintas frowned. “The messenger did get a glare, I think. But I’m not attending the meeting for any reason other than Fandral trusts my judgement. I’ve been meeting with him for—“
“Sintas,” Broll said, stroking his beard. “You realize there’s already a flurry of rumors about, yes? The messenger didn’t just run, he told us of quite an incident.”
She sighed, pulling her legs to her chest to rest her arms on her knees. Quietly, she said “…Everyone has heard, then.”
Broll nodded. “Sintas, this incident is going to tarnish the meeting… It won’t be seen as a level field anymore. If you still attend, then… Elune forbid you agree with Fandral on any matter. It already looks like favortism.”
She rested her chin on her arms. “It certainly isn’t…” She looked to Broll hopefully. “That was the only time it’s happened… That anything has happened like that…” Her head shifted, resting her forehead on her arms. “…And I’m not proud of it.” She sighed, whispering “What will I do…”
Broll frowned, looking to the floor. He ventured a glance at her still, huddled form. “So it wasn’t your idea, was it.”
She looked up, cheeks dark. She quickly shook her head.
He sighed, resting his hand on the pole of her bed he had perched upon. “Sintas… I can convince people that you put the Archdruid into an unsavory situation. But convincing people of the opposite would simply place me as discrediting him. It’s not something I can do.”
Sintas looked to the side. “Broll…”
“Yes?”
She sighed. “I need you to meet with Fandral tomorrow. Tell him… I’m ill, or I’m busy, something, and that I can’t make it to the meeting. Go in my stead if you can.”
Broll nodded, lips tight together. He glanced around. “Do you have any notes I could bring with me for the meeting? I may be respected, but… You’ve been reporting directly to Fandral for years…”
Sintas slipped off the bed, lifting the lid of a tall, reed basket by her nightstand. She dug around a moment, lifting aside a few small, burlap bags before finding a wood-bound journal. She opened it up, paging through, dog-earing pages as she scanned them for important information. Finally, she closed the journal, holding it out to Broll. “This is the past year.”
Broll accepted the journal, slipping it under his arm. He frowned with disappointment. “You should be at the meeting, though. Not I.”
She nodded, sitting back on her bed. “Maybe the next one. And maybe not. I’ll see eventually.”
He stepped over to the railing encircling the house, stepping onto the wide, flat banister. He set the journal on the banister, shifted to his storm crow form, and picked the journal up in his talons, gliding off into the night. Sintas watched his thunder cloud grey form disappear, laying down on her bed.
She was so tired.
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