Not a Farewell, Just a Goodbye

“Follow th’ path tae where no one’s e’er been. Dinna turn ’round until ye reach th’ end. Across th’ sea and beyon’ th’ distan’ lands, th’ world awaits so dinna make any plans. There ye go. There ye go.”
Ýri’s voice rang out across the rolling hills of Arathi as she and Halldís slowly made their way down the road. The goat was behaving for once and the ride was smooth enough that Ýri could sing without having to worry about her voice breaking. Though, you never knew with Halldís of course. She was a canny old creature and her moods were ever shifting. She could be sweet and docile as a lamb one moment, and beyond stubborn and attempt to throw off her rider the next. It was part of the excitement of sharing the road with her, Ýri mused. Every step along the road took them further away from Aerie Peak and also further away from home. Ýri had returned to the Aerie to spend time with her family and to seek their comfort and counsel. Unfortunately, the Wildfeathers being as fond of travel as they are, none of them were home. It was disappointing and it made Ýri sad to think about. Or, more sad than she already was. And feeling sad made her angry, and that never led to anything good. Chances were that if Halldís sensed any sign of distress, the goat would throw her rider and take off. Instead, Ýri made an attempt to push those feelings aside in favour of inviting in some cheer through song.
“When e’ery step takes ye a thousan’ miles away, ye’ll find th’ edge beyon’ th’ break o’ day. An’ leave behin’ everythin’ ye’ve e’er had; th’ ones ye love, th’ pillows in yer bed. There ye go. There ye go.”

After many days on the road, Ýri began the last leg of her journey. She was walking, as Halldís had escaped sometime during the night before and was not likely to return for a few days. How the goat managed to survive and return each time was a mystery, but Ýri was not in a mood to contemplate it at that moment. No, she would much rather have turned the goat into stew. At least then she would have been useful for something. Muttering curses and calling Halldís various unflattering names under her breath, Ýri trudged up the last hill and entered Kirthaven. Situated at the base of Thunderstrike Mountain, it was not as imposing and majestic as Aerie Peak, but what it didn’t have in grandeur it made up for in cosiness instead. Ýri suddenly felt the weight of too many days on the road and too little sleep settle on her shoulders. She loved adventure and her freedom, but sometimes life on the road got lonely and sometimes all she wished for was a nice bed, a tankard of good ale and a hearty meal. She knew she’d be able to find at least a few of those in the village, and so she headed towards the inn. 

“‘ello? Anybody home?” she called as she stepped into the building.
“Jus’ a minute!” Ýri heard some clattering and clanking from below and moments later the innkeep came stomping up the stairs. He squinted at Ýri and waved her further into the room.
“Ach, lass! Dinna be standin’ in th’ door like a t’ief. Come, come. Wha’ can I do fer ye?”
“I be needin’ a room fer a few days..-” she didn’t have time to finish before the innkeep interrupted her.
“Headin’ up ter Thunderstrike, hm?”
“How d’ya ken?”
The inkeep waved a hand dismissively and gave her a knowing look, his expression a bit sad.
“Ye have tha’ look abou’ ye. Heartsick, ye ken?” Ýri just nodded in response and the innkeep placed a large hand on her shoulder.
“Dinna fash yersel, lass. I have a room fer ye an’ ye look a wee bit peaky, if ye dinna mind me sayin’ so. I’ll bring ye a tankard of ale and a bowl of stew, it’ll do ye good. Go on now, down the stairs.” He gently turned her towards the stairs and gave her a little nudge. With a grateful smile and a nod she headed down into the space below. She settled herself in front of the fire with a heavy sigh and pulled off her gloves. She held out her hands towards the flames and considered the quest that still lay before her. Tomorrow she’d head up to the peak of Thunderstrike Mountain to spread Rainfeather’s ashes. Not a task she was looking forward to, but it was what she needed to do. It was a chance to say a last goodbye and give her friend a chance to fly free one last time. Unbidden tears rose to the surface and she wiped them away with an angry gesture. There would be time for tears on the morrow. Tonight she would rest and try not to think of what lay ahead. To distract herself, she did what always worked the best – she sang.
“Wha’ ye call home is a chest o’ memories, fore’er lost, but good enough tae keep. ’cause ye dinna ken wha’ tomorrow holds fer ye; another path, or just a glimpse o’ truth. There ye go. There ye go.”

The next day dawned grey and overcast. The innkeep warned her that the weather was likely to take a turn for the worse during the course of the day and suggested that she wait with heading up the mountain. But Ýri’s mind was made up and on a borrowed gryphon she flew up to the top of Thunderstrike. Upon landing, Ýri immediately began the trek up to the summit. As she walked the winds began to increase in strength and it was with some effort that she pushed forward. It almost felt as if she was being tested, that the mountain itself was challenging her to prove herself worthy to reach the top. Once she finally reached the summit, the winds were strong enough that they threatened to toss her off the mountain. It had also started to rain, and it was not the gentle autumn rains of Arathi Highlands. No, this was a proper storm and Ýri was right at the center of it. The Wildfeathers were always considered to be a stubborn bunch, and Ýri herself was certainly no exception to that rule. So she just bowed her head and stood her ground. She dug her heels into the earth and held on as the storm raged all around her. The gale winds tore at her, rocking her to and fro, and the ice cold rain lashed at her skin, but through it all Ýri held fast. She thought of Rainfeather, whose ashes she carried in her arms, and she thought of all the times they had ridden together through fierce storms, as well as gentle skies. She thought of the bond they had shared, how they had been each other’s constant companions from the word ‘go’ and how many adventures they had shared over the years. It was heartbreaking to think that they would never share those things ever again, and that both of them were alone on either side of the veil. 

The storm continued to rage and while the thoughts of Rainfeather kept Ýri’s heart true and strong, the constant barrage of winds and pelting rain slowly wore her body down and brought her to her knees. She knelt in the grass, cradling the little urn with Rainfeather’s ashes close to her chest. More than once the winds threatened to rip them out of her arms, but Ýri stubbornly held on. Eventually she found herself forced to curl up in a fetal position on the ground in order to protect the urn and its contents. There was no chance that she could safely open the urn and release Rainfeather’s ashes as long as the storm was in full swing. As she lay there, thunder and lightning streaked across the sky and she thought she heard voices on the wind, calling out to her. But try as she might, she couldn’t quite understand what they were saying.

After what felt like hours, the storm finally began to let up. The winds slowly died down and the skies began to clear. Once she was sure the storm would not return, Ýri got to her feet, her entire body shaking from the effort. She walked to the edge of the cliff and stared out at the view before her. The wide expanse of the sea was far below and as she stood there, the sun finally broke through the clouds and made the surface of the waters below glitter with gold. This was it. This was the moment she had come here for. With shaking hands, Ýri gently opened the urn, but she hesitated as she was about to scatter its contents. The ashes and the feathers Ýri wore in her hair were all that she had left of Rainfeather, her best friend and dearest companion through so many trials and adventures. Once again she felt tears well in her eyes, but this time she allowed them to fall. She allowed the grief to overwhelm her and as she finally tipped the urn and scattered Rainfeather’s ashes on the wind, she let her voice ring out, wobbly and broken, in song.
“There’s a place at th’ end o’ th’ road, where our lives turn tae light pure as gold. Where th’ past is just a sparkle o’ time and th’ world is all good by design.”
She watched as the winds caught the ashes and carried them far and wide in Rainfeather’s last flight. Still with tears streaming down her face she finished the song, her voice a little steadier now.
“This isnae a farewell, jus’ a goodbye.”