#calderain

A centaur with a solemn expression makes her slow way to the river's edge, periodically stopping to gather some of the herbs growing near the bank. These she adds to the pouch she carries. There is nothing hurried about her actions; she moves with deliberate care.

Wintermoor continues following the river, it looks like he has come quite a ways. His expression is neither happy nor sad, but more of a brooding serious look. He does not see the female centaur

A centaur with a solemn expression concentrates on her task, her own face never lightening. Though the morning is warm, she does not act as if the heat affects her.

Wintermoor continues along the riverbed, looking up briefly to make sure that he does not stumble. As he draws closer, he does see the female centaur intent on her task.

He say, "Madam" He says, as one would say "Good Morn, Madam, or good day.""

A centaur with a solemn expression glances up, pausing long enough to tuck some strands of hair behind her ears and out of the way. "It was foretold that we would see one another this morning. Good day to you as well", she intones.

He asks, "Has your gathering been fruitful?"

A centaur with a solemn expression nods soberly to this. "My master will be pleased with my progress, I hope. He wished me to broaden my knowledge along the way from Beruna, and to that purpose I have applied myself diligently."

Wintermoor nods solemnly, "I had heard their was a faire there, and that their majesties were there."

Wintermoor muses. "It has been long and long, since I have seen their Majesties. Young they were, just foals then.

A centaur with a solemn expression calmly adds a bunch of yet another herb to her pouch. "That is so, though I kept busy without taking much time to enjoy the festivities there. There was much to be done and even more to learn." She gives the other centaur a long glance. "Your face is not unknown to the Council Ring, I think, though you are right to say that it has been some years since last you were there."

Wintermoor nods gravely.

A centaur with a solemn expression nods as well as this is confirmed, her features reflecting not even a hint of surprise. "Am I known to you, then?", she inquires gravely.

You say, "Nay, Madam. I have seen many faces in many years, but I do not believe your face is known to me."

A centaur with a solemn expression brushes off her hand before extending it. "Calderain", she states simply.

Wintermoor takes the centauress’s hand and kisses it in knightly fashion, "Aslan’s blessings on you, Calderain."

A centaur with a solemn expression does not shy away or look offended at the courtly gesture. "To you as well. We are well met, it seems, though you have yet to give me your name, Sir."

Wintermoor gives a bow as best as a centaur can, the man part of his body bending forward a bit. His arm crossed crossed his chest, his fist on his shoulder in salute.  "My Pardon, Madam. I am Wintermoor. I was captain before the winter.

A centaur with a solemn expression takes in this name soberly. "Wintermoor", she repeats. "The stories about you precede you."

You ask, "Stories, Madam?

A centaur with a solemn expression replies, her tone grave, "It is our privilege to remember what has been, after all."

He nods, "You are bound to the Council Ring?"

A centaur with a solemn expression nods at this. "I am. I must make haste, for my master will be expecting me, and there is much still to learn from him."

You ask, "Might I escort you, Madam? As befits a knight too do?"

A centaur with a solemn expression nods at this. "Though I am not in need of protection, I will not decline companionship along the road."