Blade Maidens: Strays – 7

“Three hours.

That’s how long I got to sleep in my first bed in two weeks.

I awoke to the click of my room’s lock, reacting just fast enough to keep my would-be captor out and rouse Ser. We leapt out the window and ran for hours until sunrise.

I was prepared for life on the road. Read a dozen accounts. Listened to father’s stories, asked the right questions. Sleeping under the stars and filling our bellies with whatever game we could scrounge up weren’t a surprise.

Being on the run…that is something else entirely. If it’s not getting handfuls of sleep because of an errant snapped branch it’s constantly looking over our shoulders whenever we venture into a village for supplies. I’m at a loss how to remedy the problem. Mother is stubborn and has undoubtedly taken my departure as a personal slight. Even if she’s taken the bounty down, the posters will have spread from Valfald to Kast and hunters will still try for it.

Ser has offered to keep their hair uncut for a time. She hopes it will keep anyone off our scent since she no longer matches the sketch. Can’t say I prefer it, they were rather handsome with it cropped short, but I can’t argue with the logic. Maybe I should do something similar?

Not cut it. Roots, no. Never. No matter how many times Ser asks.

But…I remember a passage about manipulating hair via vitalism. Speculation that the nature of hair’s physical make-up renders it immune to the normal limitations of self-vitalism. Hm. I’ll have to do some reading. When I’ve gotten more than a scarce few hours sleep, that is. Ser is on watch, but I won’t let them stay up another night on my behalf. Better get what sleep I can now.”

– Rowan’s Journal, entry dated 17 Snowsong, 877