It had taken a year of waiting, of monotony, of stagnation, before the bardess at last realized that he wasn't coming back.

A handful of months ago (not quite a year, but close), Cassady had taken a position as a minstrel in a noble house. The hours were long, her presence often requested late into the night as she played for feasts and balls, at parties and small gatherings, but it kept a roof overhead, her stomach full, and her pockets heavy with coin, so she had little reason to complain. But she was not content.

She stagnated.

The minstrel itched for the road, for travel and exploration and excitement. Once, she had thought that perhaps she could be happy staying in one place with steady employ and a steady life. But she must have been kender-kin; wanderlust was in her blood, and she had no reason to stay in Rhy'Din city.

That wasn't to say that she would never return. Coin flowed freely, and Cassady's travels would likely lead her back from time to time. She would share her stories and songs, for a price.

But now? The road called.

Its siren song was sweet, and Cassady could not resist the lure. Most of her belongings were quickly sold for much less than their market value, leaving her with little but a spare change of clothes and her gittern. Beginning one's travels in winter was perhaps not the best idea, but she wasn't about to back down from the challenge.

And so it was that the wandering bard wandered once more, setting off alone for the great unknown.