Niamh had gotten hopelessly lost coming out of La'marri.
The mountain passes had all looked the same, even with her map, and after weeks of travel and harsh weather, after running low on her rations and practically freezing to death out in the cold, by the time she made it to the relief of a windy valley...
Well, goddess, she hadn't realized it was bloody Connlaoth until she was right in he thick of it.
She knew Connlaoth's reputation. It was a heathen land that believed in a single false god, "Ansgar", and they believed in burning mages or some such nonsense. A dangerous place, she knew, but she had faith that the Goddess would keep her safe, as She had so many times before, as long as she could feel Her Light warming her. And so she kept on trekking; she would have to cut through the mountains yet again if she wanted to reach Serendipity, and she did her best along the way to keep a low profile as she slept in barns and overheard villagers gossiping about the mage epidemic--and the mage camps--all while singing praises to their blasphemous god.
It was enough to make her blood boil, but she managed to bite her tongue. She was a mage; she couldn't do anything stupid, especially as an unmarked one in a country that required a mark.
Bastards.
Just a few more weeks, she told herself, but all that travel had made her weary and exhausted, for she'd forced herself to just keep moving and stop only to sleep. There finally came a point, though, when her body rebelled, when the elements and the lack of rest and sleep caught up with her.
It was in some big city called Uthlyn, a place so close to her goal, and the day was rainy and windy and soaked right through her clothes to her skin, even though she wore a thick cloak over her breeches and tunic. A chill that had nothing to do with the cold had taken over her even before he rain fell down and she felt cold even though her body burned and aches seeped deep into her muscles. She knew she was sick; she'd felt it coming on a day ago with that tell-tale burn in the back of her throat, and the runny nose had sealed it. But she'd still told herself that she had to keep going--
But now she couldn't. Everything hurt and she felt cold and dizzy and hot and the rain just kept falling, and she knew she'd be in trouble if she pushed herself much more. She didn't want anything from these people. Didn't trust them, didn't want anything to do with them. But as her head spun, she finally had to swallow her pride like a bitter pill.
Stumbling to the front door of a building--she hadn't even paid attention to which, through the haze of the rain and the blur of her vision--she pounded on the door, then slumped forward against it, head rested against the wood with the effort it took to keep standing.