Hunith had been expecting Gwen for a few days, ever since the small letter appeared in mid-air during dinner and fluttered down to her table. It had read:
Gwen is coming, please, help her. I'm doing well and I miss you.
Hunith had not been expecting the woman she found. Instead of the warm, strong girl she remembered, Gwen was wearing the tattered remains of a once-fine outfit and on her back and she carried a pack holding only the last scraps of food and sundry supplies she'd need for a trip from Camelot to Ealdor. What worried Hunith the most was the look of haunted desperation on her face.
Hunith had enough experience with exile to recognize it.
She hugged Gwen and brought her inside to warm up. They made small talk, carefully avoiding all questions of why Gwen was here. The next day both women attended to the tasks of daily living as if Gwen had always lived there.