You're just about to make another jibe at Gwendell when the curly-haired wanderer wrests her shoe off and hurls it at you. "You've shown me your true measure today, Bandochel," she hisses, "and I won't soon forget it." [-Gwendell]
"Come off it, Gwendell," you call out as she turns away. You rub your shoulder where the scuffed sabot struck you. "Just a bit of fun! At least take your shoe back!"
You send Brute trotting after the indignant artiste and are relieved to see that, offended as she is, she accepts the footwear.
Catsby puts her hand on your arm. "You don't mean to tell me that was the same Gwendell, once called Princess of the Bardbrood?"
There's a bit of stir in your group among the handful who seem to have heard of her. "What on Earth happened?"
You shrug, patting Brute on the head as it comes trotting back, and Gwendell around a bend in the distance. "I don't suppose she'll ever tell me now," you say.
You take a moment that night afore bedding down to wish Gwendell fairer fortunes to come. You've been blessed with many opportunities, and it's only equable to wish the same on others. Whether they can rise to the occasion to the extent you have is up to them, you add as a smug aside before closing your eyes.
Onward