His zigzagging routes were keeping him closer to Catti-brie, the halfling noted, constantly coming to vantage points that put him in sight of the woman. Truly, the drow's movements surprised Regis, for never before had he seen Drizzt so protective.
Was it protectiveness, the halfling had to wonder, or was it something else?
The change in Catti-brie was even more obvious. There was a coolness about her, particularly toward Drizzt. It wasn't anything overtly rude, it was just that she was speaking much less that day than normally, answering his directions with a simple nod or shrug. The incident with the orcs was weighing heavily on her mind, Regis supposed.
He glanced back at the dwarven caravan then looked all around, ensuring that they were secure for the time being—no sign of any orc or giant had shown that day—then he scrambled forward along the trail, catching up to Catti-brie.
"A chill in the wind this morning," he said to her.
She nodded and kept looking straight ahead. Her thoughts were inward and not on the trail before her.
"Seems that the cold has affected your shoulder," Regis dared to remark.
Catti-brie nodded again, but then she stopped and turned deliberately to regard him. Her stern expression did not hold against the cherubic half-ling face, one full of innocence, even though it was obvious that Regis had just made a remark at her expense.
"I'm sorry," the woman said. "A lot on me mind is all."
"When we were on the river, on our way to Cadderly, and the goblin spear found my shoulder, I felt the same way." Regis replied, "helpless, and as if the end of my road was upon me."
"And more than a few have noted the change that has come over Regis since that day."
It was Regis's turn to shrug.
"Often in those moments when we think all is lost," he said, "many things… priorities … become clear to us. Sometimes, it just takes a while after the incident to sort things out."
Catti-brie's smile told him that he had hit the mark.
"It's a strange thing, this life we've chosen," Regis mused. "We know that the odds tell us without doubt that we'll one day be killed in the wilds, but we keep telling ourselves that it won't be this day at least, and so we walk farther along that same road.
"Why does Regis, no friend of any road, take that walk, then?" Catti-brie asked.
"Because I've chosen to walk with my friends," the halfling explained. "Because we are as one, and I would rather die out here beside you than learn of your death while sitting in a comfortable chair—especially when such news would come with my feelings that perhaps if I had been with you, you would not have been killed."
"It is guilt, then?"
"That, and a desire not to miss the excitement," Regis answered with a laugh. "How much grander the tales are than the experiences. I know that from listening to Bruenor and his kin exaggerating every thrown punch into a battering ram of a fist that could level a castle's walls, yet even knowing it, hearing those tales about incidents that did not include me, fill me with wonder and regret."
"So ye've come to admit yer adventurous side?"
"Perhaps."
"And ye're not thinking that ye might be needing more?"
Regis looked at her with an expression that conveyed that he was not sure what «more» might mean.
"Ye're not thinking that ye might want a life with others of yer own ilk? That ye might want a wife and some. ."
"Children?" the halfling finished when Catti-brie paused, as if she could not force the word from her lips.
"Aye."
"It has been so many years since I've even lived among other half-lings," Regis said, "and.. well, it did not end amicably."
"It's a tale ye've not told."
"And too long a tale for this road," Regis replied. "I don't know how to answer you. Honestly. For now, I've got my friends, and that has just seemed to be enough."
"For now?"
Regis shrugged and asked, "Is that what's troubling you? Did you find more regrets than you expected when the orcs had encircled you and you thought your life to be at its end?"
Catti-brie looked away, giving the halfling all the answer he needed. The perceptive Regis saw much more than the direct answer to his question. He understood the source of many of those regrets. He had been watching Catti-brie's relationship with Drizzt grow over the last months, and while the sight of them surely did his romantic heart good, he knew that such a union, if it ever came to pass, would not be without its troubles. He knew what Catti-brie had been thinking when the orcs hovered over her. She had been wondering about children, her children, and it was obvious to Regis that children were nothing Drizzt Do'Urden could ever give to her. Could a drow and human even bear offspring?
Perhaps, since elves and humans could, and had, but what fate might such a child find? Was it one that Catti-brie could accept?
"What will you do?" the halfling asked her, drawing a curious look.
Regis nodded ahead on the trail, to the figure of Drizzt walking toward them. Catti-brie looked at him and took a deep breath.
"I will walk the trails as scout for our group," the woman answered coolly. "I will draw Taumaril often and fire true, and when battle is joined I'll leap in with Cutter's gleaming edge slashing down our foes."
"You know what I mean."
"No, I do not," Catti-brie answered.
Regis started to argue, but Drizzt was upon them then, and so he bit back his retort.
"The trails are clear of orc-sign," the drow remarked, speaking haltingly and looking from Regis to Catti-brie, as if suspicious of the conversation he was so obviously interrupting.
"Then we will make the ravine before nightfall, ' Catti-brie replied.
"Long before, and make our turn to the north."
The woman nodded, and Regis gave a frustrated, "Hrmmph!" and walked away.
"What troubles our little friend?" Drizzt asked.
"The road ahead," the woman answered.
"Ah, perhaps there is a bit of the old Regis within him yet," Drizzt said with a smile, missing the true meaning of her words.
Catti-brie just smiled and kept walking.
They made the ravine soon after and saw the gleaming white tower that marked the town of Shallows — the tower of Withegroo Seian'Doo, a wizard of minor repute. Hardly pausing, the group moved along its western edge until long after the sun had set. They heard the howls of wolves that night, but they were far off, and if they were connected in any way to any orcs, the companions could not tell.
They rounded the ravine the next day, turning to the east and back toward the south and took heart, for still there was no sign of the orcs. It seemed as if the group that had hit Clicking Heels might be an isolated one, and those who had not fallen to the vengeful dwarves had likely retreated to dark mountain holes.
Again they marched long after sunset, and when they camped, they did so with the watch fires of Shallows's wall in sight, knowing full well that their own fires could be seen clearly from the town.
Drizzt was not surprised to find a pair of scouts moving their way under the cover of darkness. The drow was out for a final survey of the area when he heard the footfalls, soon coming in sight of the creeping men. They were trying to be quiet, obviously, and having little fortune, almost constantly tripping over roots and stones.
The drow moved to a position to the side of the pair behind a tree and called out, "Halt and be counted!"
It was a customary demand in these wild parts. The two humans stumbled again and fell to low crouches, glancing about nervously.
"Who is it who approaches the camp of King Bruenor Battlehammer without proper announcement?" Drizzt called.
"King Bruenor!" the pair yelled together, and at each other.
"Aye, the lord of Mithral Hall, returned home upon news of the death of Gandalug, who was king."