Nataelya didn’t miss the way he first looked at her as if something occurred to him before he got to his feet a moment later, prompting her to wait. Her gaze followed him to where he started rummaging in some supplies a short distance away, and then flickered to the knife he had left where he had sat.
Out of over-confidence, a show of trust, or stupidity was up for debate, but what her gut feeling told her that the show of trust seemed most likely. She had trusted them to accompany them into their camp after all. And the temptation was there, doubtlessly, the impulse to take the knife, but rationality made her stay where she was, going back to calmly watching him.
She still had a knife. And a second wasn’t going to help her more than that, should anyone here have intentions less than honorable. Not to mention that he’d notice, of course, if his knife was suddenly gone.
When Dondarrion returned, it was with a sling as well as some answers she had sought, and at least a few pieces of the puzzle were starting to slide into place. Of course they only brought up new ones, but before asking them, Nataelya gave him a nod, her eyes silently grateful as she looked back at him.
“Sounds like it would be an improvement on both ends.” She sat up a little straighter and allowed him to step close and slip the sling over her head and around her arm, doing so with surprisingly deft fingers.
“What did Catelyn Stark do, to warrant an attack like this?”
beric paused at the question, his gaze sweeping nataelya’s face. had she not heard of the lady stark’s recent actions, an act of vengeance on behalf of her crippled son? weeks of hard travel was enough to isolate a person from news of the world, he reminded himself -- it was only due to their scouts and the gossip of smallfolk that the brotherhood managed to keep one ear to the ground at all.
“it seems lady stark has taken tyrion lannister as her prisoner,” beric explained, fixing the sling in place with practised hands before sitting back. “nothing he doesn’t deserve, if the rumours of his involvement in her son’s accident are proven true, yet her behaviour prompted tywin lannister into adverse action. the mountain slaughtered an entire village for their loyalty to house tully.”
the mention of the mountain’s name was enough to pass a shadow over beric’s face, the memory of clegane’s lance piercing his chest one he hadn’t yet lost to the abyss. he could still see it, the triumph in the brute’s eyes, hear his roar as he had kicked beric fiercely in the chest to dislodge the weapon from his body. another swing to take his head would have been a mercy, yet clegane had left him to die there in the dirt. he had heard of the brutality inflicted upon the villagers days before their mission began, innocent men, women and children cut down in cold blood. catelyn stark would bear the guilt more freely than tywin lannister ever would.
a brother approached them with wooden flagons of ale, beric accepting his own with a short nod of thanks. the attack at mummer’s ford had killed a third of his assigned men, though food was still rationed accordingly. the smallfolk were happy to trade crops and ales for manual work, and thus far, there had been little problems with sharing.
question for question, beric continued to prepare their meal as he asked, “where will you go, once you’ve fully healed?”
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