Tiferet lowers her gaze just in time to see Inire's sudden start, which manages to make her expression even sadder. She's having a crash course in how harsh the world can be. And it pains me to be among her teachers.
And yet, there are probably many more of his friends they'll have to fight before the day ends. Hesitation can still prove lethal. "Meillä ei ole varaa olla tunteellinen, sillä luota minuun, he eivät vastavuoroisesti ystävällisyys" she says putting a hand on the kneeling half-elf's shoulder. "Hän sinetöi kohtalonsa, kun hän heitti paljon tällä Rohkar kaveri, ja teurastetaan kaikki nämä ihmiset." But if her words and gesture are really meant to comfort Inire or herself, she could not say.
She probably wants to be left alone for the time being. Writing is a method of coping, after all she reasons slowly lifting her hand, allowing the little Mouse to concentrate on her journal.
"There's still one of them who might be alive. He may even have information we can use" she utters in a flat tone, devoid of any conviction or enthusiasm, as she starts striding towards Nathara.
Eirikr exhales slowly as the battle ends, the rage from Tiferet's song flowing out of his body and the gnawing hunger that had built up inside him mostly subsiding. He watches silently as Tiferet dispatches the dying bandit, a look of approval on his face. He glances over at the surviving bandit who is still fast asleep and strides towards him, Ashen following behind him. He closes his eyes and mutters something to himself before he reaches the bandits, and when he speaks, his words seem sharper than they did before.
"Wake up" he hisses, giving the bandit a quick kick in the side of the chest as Ashen jumps on top of the man and begins to growl, his fangs just a few short inches away from the bandit's throat. "Time to talk. Or not. But if it's not, Ashen's hungry, and I am too. So is it time to talk, or time to eat?"
The man groans as he feels Eirikr's foot slam into his side. His eyes open and he yelps as he sees the wolf standing over him with bared teeth. "Calistra's c*nt! Don't have it eat me! I'll talk!"
"First: how many of you are at the lodge, and how heavily armed?" says Eirikr, stepping forward, his foot landing "accidentally" on one of the bandit's hands. Ashen continues to growl at the man, some spittle falling out of his mouth and on to the bandit's face. "Best be quick. He only drools like that when he's very hungry."
The man yelps as Eirikr's foot slams down on his foot, though his hand mostly just sinks deeper into the snow. "There's... twelve more at the lodge, includin' the boss. But he's got his undead... things with him. I don't know how many Rohkar's managed to raise. He was talkin' 'bout working on something new with the bodies he took from that caravan we hit yesterday morning."
"New with the bodies? Gods's names does that mean," growls Eirikr, as he drives his heel deeper into the man's hand. "Do they have any idea that we're coming?"
"What? No! We don't know nothin'! We were here to keep an eye out for the authorities, just in case."
Evelyn watched quietly as Eirikr questioned the bandit, She'd never known torture to work but he seemed to be getting answers so she didn't speak up.
"Pretty good answers. Got another question though," says Eirikr, leaning closer to the man so his face is right next to Ashen's. "What should we do with you now? I'm worried that you're going to just run away and tell your friends. I'd tie you up but I'm no good with ropes. You have a better suggestion?"
Tiferet's quick to reach the last surviving bandit – but, unencumbered by armour, the tall sandy-haired boy is quicker. Out of the city and into the woods, he seems to be once again in his own environment, if the feral nature of his interrogation is any indication.
Still, she can't help frowning as he steps on the man's hand – and yet, it's not like she has some sort of moral high ground on the matter, after what she's just done. Moreover, one can't argue with results, I guess she reasons, so for the time being she's just content with standing there, arms folded.
She's curious about what their prisoner's reaction to Eirikr's question will be, though; but she doesn't let her hopes get too high. Put a dagger to a ruffian's throat, and it's usually a toss-up between incoherent sobbing and promises to go looking for the nearest Iomedean temple and joining the Mendevian Crusades.
Nathara looked a bit desperate around. Twelve of them. Including a powerful necromancer. And they had to decide what to do with a bandit and murderer they held prisoner.
"Ole hyvä ... voisimme pitää hänet vankina nyt; En usko, että voimme ottaa, että monet menemättä tuore taisteluun. Huomenna haavan jalkansa - sen ei tarvitse olla vakava haava - sitoa hänet, ottaa hänen laitteiden ja jättää hänet jonnekin. Vaikka hän onnistuu vapauttaa itsensä taistelu on ohi ennen kuin hän voi tavoittaa meidät. Kun olemme tehneet - olettaen olemme voittajana - tuomme vankeja takaisin Heldren."
Judging by the overall morale, one would be hard-pressed to tell we've just won Tiferet muses as she watches Nathara's expression turning more and more dejected.
"Tiedän, että Sarenrae opettaa myötätuntoa ja lunastus" she says softly, nodding vehemently at her suggestion to stop and rest before the assault. "Ja minä kunnioitan sinua sitäkin rukoili sen hänen puolestaan, Veri-sisko. Mutta luottaa minuun, olen viettänyt tarpeeksi aikaa Oppara tietää, että luovuttamalla hänet Taldane viranomaisten on kaukana armollinen. Jos hän ei valinnut aatelisnainen hänen tavoite, ehkä ... Mutta olemme tarttui häneen, hän on meidän vastuullamme nyt. Ja sellaisenaan, otan mitään riskiä hän pystyy nappaamaan yhden elämän" she concludes in an ominously ineluctable tone.
Crouching down to look their prisoner in the eyes, she tries her best to smile at him. "You don't have to respond to that" she says. "For I believe I already know the answer. Perhaps we've started with the wrong foot. Now answer me truthfully, and I'll see that the big bad wolf won't have you for lunch. Agreed?"
"See? I'm your friend. Unlike those ungrateful bastards back at the lodge who sent you here to freeze your ass off while they enjoy Lady Argentea's luxuries. But you wouldn't want your friend to get hurt, right? Like, in a trap, or shot by an arrow?"
"You've been very helpful until now... But are you sure you've told us everything? How do you access the lodge? Are the entries trapped? How heavily are they guarded? Are there any secret passages? Finally – you said your boss, this necromancer, has his undead creations with him... I don't suppose he spends too much time with his underlings then. I've come to understand sharing a living space with rotting corpses has a tendency to make people feel... uneasy in the long run."
Nathara whispered under her breath: "I trust you, sister." And she did. She was glad that Calwen had shown mercy to Zaira, Nathara's mother, when she did.
She wanted to kneel down and pray. Or clean her blade. Or dance on a lonely frozen plain. Or sprout wings, fly to Celindril and start a fight with him - the kind of fight that got him in the right mood to take her hard...
But she had to watch. This was her choice and she had to suffer the consequences.
Necromancer. The thought echoed in her mind and the red glow in her eyes was quite alive as she stood there with blood dripping sword and watched.
The bandit looks like he wants to turn and run as the Ulfen woman approaches him, but he's too afraid to flee. He looks like he's about to say something as she speaks her spell, but his eyes glaze over before he can respond. A slightly goofy smile crosses his face for a moment, then he shakes himself. The wolf man and the actual wolf are still terrifying, but this nice woman is on his side. Surely she won't let him get eaten by the beast.
He frowns slightly. Yes, he wouldn't want to let her get hurt. Not when she's keeping him alive. "There's a trap on the trail head near the lodge. Trip wires rigged to crossbows. And there are a few men on watch at all times with bows and arrows. We rotate shifts so people have time to sleep, but a couple of the boys have been sick recently so we've been pulling extra watches some times. That's all though."
"What about the woman, is she injured?"
"Shouldn't be. We were told to take her unharmed. Rohkar was talkin' about ransom, but we weren't supposed to do anythin' until we got word from the lady that hired us. Don't know what he's plannin' after that."
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With a snap of her fingers, Tiferet nonchalantly dismisses the charm which has led the man to perceive a friendly face where, in truth, there has been but an instrument of vengeance. "Though cooperation forced through threat or spell could hardly be called such, your information was precious, and for this you have our thanks" she coldly says.
"Earlier I told you I was your friend and that I wouldn't let you become Ashen-s meal. I still stand by my word. That doesn't change the basic fact of what you are, of your intrinsic nature, though" she states matter-of-factly. There is more she wishes to tell him, but with Vosi nearby, she has to be very cautious about the words she uses.
She pauses briefly, drawing her breath. "I offer you this deal. You can either die kneeling, by my hand, an axe through your neck. I promise you it will be quick and painless" she says. A far better treatment than many of Lady Argentea's retinue were given she bitterly reflects, the image of the Captain's frozen form still vivid in her mind. "Or you can die standing, sword in hand, as you face me in a duel. You win, you get your freedom. You try to escape, Ashen will get to feast sumptuously today."
She lets her word sink in before concluding her speech. "So. What say you?" she finally asks.
The bandit's eyes go glassy again for a moment as Tiferet releases her spell and he shakes himself, looking very confused for a few seconds. Why had he been so eager to tell her about the traps at the lodge again? His eyes widen slightly at her punishment and his jaw drops. He seems unable to say anything for a few moments before he slowly nods. "I'll fight." He seems a little surprised by his own words, but doesn't change his mind once he's spoken.
Nathara pulls her own sword, not the one she fought with, out of its sheath with her left and puts in the ground with the hilt pointing towards him. She quickly takes a step back before he can use it to stab her with it.
"Your own weapons are right over there, if you prefer those." she says with a hollow voice and circles around him.
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"Good" is all Tiferet has to say, a faint, cryptic smile on her lips.
She takes a few steps away from the man, stopping once she's put approximately 30 feet between them. Standing there, legs slightly apart, she waits for him to get up and attack her.
"Pick your weapon, then" the Ulfen warrioress instructs him, describing a wide arc in the air as she draws her weapon. "And come at me."
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The man stand up and shakily takes his sword back, not bothering to try and attack anyone as he takes a somewhat rough fighting stance and prepares for combat.
Swallowing hard, he launches himself forward in a surprising burst of speed and brings his blade down in a swift arc. However, either from nervousness or simple lack of skill, he misses by a fair bit.
Tiferet calmly follows his strike with a brutal counter-attack, slamming her greataxe down on his unguarded shoulder and sinking deep into his torso. He screams in pain as the cold steel draws a spurt of blood from his body, but he manages to remain standing.
"You're good," he mutters through the pain. "Pleasure to die in a proper fight." He makes another attempt to strike at her, though his wound makes it difficult to move and he once again fails to hit his mark.
Tiferet follows up with one more blow, the steel tearing through his body in another bloody chop. Without another word, the bandit crumples to the ground and stops breathing.
"I would've just let you kill me, Ashen," says Eirikr, rubbing the top of the wolf's head. "He said there'd be a lot of them at the lodge, but they don't know we're coming. We'd better set up camp. Rest. Figure out a plan."
Another life undone... though considerably better... or was it? Inire sighed as she heard the clanging, and watched everything happening from a hundred feet away. She drew a short line in her book and closed it, putting it back into her bag, and slipping that back on.
She moved closer to the group, not looking Tiferet in the eye. "We'll need to be better prepared... and that means rest. But it means other things, too. Do you think you could show me how to forage a little, Eirikr?" she suggested as she approached the group... also keeping her gaze away from the man on the ground.
"May the Valkyries guide you home, warrior." She sighs but forces herself to smile at Tiferet. "You fought well and honour the tribe Tolc chose." She presses the taller woman's shoulder with her unarmoured left.
With a look around she said. "And I am proud to fight alongside each of you." That particularly included Vosi as well. "Let's find some place to rest."
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"Likewise" she says to her foe, wondering if he can still hear her as she evades his last, desperate lunge and goes for the decisive blow. And for once, she means it: taking her opening swing without faltering was no small feat, finding the strength to counter-attack was an even greater one. He could have been a good soldier, had he made the right decisions. She briefly lets her mind wander, wondering what those decisions could have been, and if they were even decisions at all or rather the result of occurrences beyond his control. It is a sterile endeavour, and she promptly cuts it short. She'll never know. And with him dead, perhaps no-one will; a forever unsung story, a life evaporating without leaving any trace. A meaningless extra in meaningless tale of death and violence.
"Mors solvit omnia" she whispers, an excerpt from an old Azlanti prayer she remembers being taught when she was little. Kneeling, she grabs his sword and uses it to cut a thin red line on her right calf. Another scar, another memory. A reminder of the day she held the lives of two men in her hands.
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Eirikr eyes the woman up and down quietly for a moment before shrugging his shoulders. "Sure. It's pretty easy. If you know what you're doing. Once you know what you're doing. Set up a snare. Should be quick. Animals here wouldn't be ready for winter. Or snow at all. Easier to track, too.They'll be slow. Confused. Fruits will still be blooming, they'll stand out, red on white.
Eirikr leads Inire a little way from the camp, and just as he predicted finding food is rather easy.
Once again, Eirikr is able to track down a campsite, though this one is a little less convenient than their first. It's little more than a thick grove of trees with enough room in the middle and little enough snow on the ground to make it moderately comfortable to sleep on. With camp established, Eirikr and Inire go hunting, quickly tracking down a mixture of wild fruits and capturing a pair of plump rabbits who seemed rather confused in the snow.
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Red on white was right. As Inire followed after, the imagery of blood on snow stayed with her, and it made the berries significantly less appealing... to her head, if not her stomach. When they found the two rabbits, it was significantly worse. She'd never in her life thought about actually killing something she was going to eat. Suddenly, red-on-white reared its ugly head still further... and the berries became significantly more appealing.
For what it was worth, Inire was quiet and stayed out of the way, but does manage to find a few sprigs of wild green onions that the others can use to add to their rabbit. Inire opting to stick to the berries, even if her stomach does protest. "Thank you, Eirikr... I'll try to remember some of what I saw." she gives him a small smile, though it remains clear that the girl is troubled, her face showing far too much of what she is thinking... like an open book.
Eirikr had never been much for reading, but even he couldn't help it when an open book was staring him in the face.
"Something wrong? Don't like rabbit? We could go back again, but I don't know if we'd find anything else," he says to Inire.
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She shrugs a little, starting to pass it off... but relents; she wasn't good at dodging, only outright avoiding. "This... just isn't my world. I feel so out of place out here. I... never expected to be even partially responsible for something's death. I knew I'd have to defend myself someday... but I somehow never thought it would be people." she says, shaking her head. "People, with faces, and names, and families somewhere. I understand that they started this. They chose for all of this to happen, and they'd have killed us if they'd been given the option but..." she shakes her head with a sigh. "I was warned the world would be colder than home. I used to love irony." she said, sighing out a breath of fog.
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Eirikr thinks about what Inire said; for a moment, he is quiet, and each time he starts to speak he stops himself. Finally, he places his hand on Inire's shoulder and says, "Death is hard. Even when it's someone you don't know. They could be anyone. But sometimes--sometimes it can't be avoided. In Ustalav, lots of folk worship Pharasma. They say that she is the ender of pain and grief. My mother would say that to. But I don't know if it's true either."
Tiferet rises slowly, greeted by the comforting touch of Nathara's clawed hand on her shoulder. "Thank you" she manages to whisper in response.
Soon, the group departs, looking for a suitable place where to rest and make the final preparations before the assault. It's not over yet. Heavens, it has barely begun she wearily thinks.
Suddenly feeling like spending some time alone with her thoughts, as soon as the camp is set she backtracks alone to the ambush site, headed toward the self-imposed task of concealing the signs of battle.
The bodies she manages to arrange as well as she can, but as much as she tries, the blood stains refuse to go away, but merely spread like drops in a white sea.
Dejected, she turns back, feeling the snowflakes' softly melting on her hair and skin. If it keeps falling, perhaps it will end up covering the blood she reasons.
Perhaps the Heavens will wipe off what the men cannot.
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The spelldancer is surprised as she notices how shaken the radiant skald is. She has thought that nothing can possibly unsettle Tiferet, but there is nothing she could say to make things right. Thus Nathara just tried to make the other woman feel her affection.
Once in the camp Nathara is quite silent for a while. She helps gathering wood for the fire, picks the driest pieces and stacks them up neetly, as though it was a ritual rather than a daily process. Finally she stacks up stones around it and arranges spare wood so that it would dry. Her hands reach briefly into the fire every now and then, but they don't seem to get burned.
"I need a moment for myself. I won' be long and within hearing range." The elf with a demon's touch undoes her armour and puts her tunic back over her blouse. After she has taken a few steps she turns around to Vosi: "You may join me if you like, spirit of the first world. I may have a gift for you." She does not say anything to Tiferet, but her look indicates to follow her, making clear that she is welcome to join as well.
She picks a place where she won't be seen from afar but has some ground to move. "This is a dance which belongs to the legend of Thalminon and Elcairier. It is from a time back before the first of men stepped onto the shores of Avistan. The dragon Fugolxir had abducted the beautiful maiden Elcairier and her husband Thalminon is on a dangerous quest with many tasks to rescue her. Elcairier believed her husband dead and realized that Dragon intended to use the child beneath her heart as his puppet and bind it to his soul, so that it would one day be the master of all elves. So she confronts Fugolxir in her prison and tries to provoke him to slay her and thus her unborn child. Fugolxir does not consider her threat, but is compelled with Elcairier's passion and devotion and falls in love with her... Elcairier in turn gets a glimpse into the dragon's heart, an old heart, sad beyond the capacity of that emotion for an elf and develops compassion for him, even though she does not return his love." She angles her head and smiles. "It's not the kind of story that has a happy ending, but even if we cannot always choose the ending, we may choose our own path. I would feel honoured should you choose to be my dragon."
With that she starts to dance with the sword in her hands. A few slow steps at first, careful and frightened, then faster ones, then more and more aggressive and hardly rythmic, with theatrical blows and defensive gestures, but eventually there is a steady pattern to the rhythm. As her body is covered with sweat she dances with incredible speed, but there is a beatiful harmony in her motions. eventually the dance gets slower and a strong impression of futility and sadness in repeating motions that seem harmonic, but not entirely complete, like being trapped by time rather than a physical prison. As the dance ends she kneels down and folds her hands.
When she raises her head she smiles at Vosi. "Thank you for watching me... I just needed that." When she gets back to the camp she seems a lot more lighthearted than before and takes her place next to Tiferet. "Would you like to tell us about how you found the tatzwyrm?" she asked Vosi.
Vosi seems very quiet as he watches Nathara dance, his eyes following the flash of her sword and the whirling rhythm of her feet on the soft ground. "The human, the she-elf, tells strange stories. But... dances very beautifully." The little sprite falls silent again, seemingly deep in thought. "Not a long story. When we came through the portal to this place, we fey herded beasts through the gate to help us. Fey are good with animals. Vosi and Shor and Pym found the wyrm when we were scouting the forest and decided to use it to help us hunt."
Nathara watches him carefully. She started softly as the snowflakes falling onto her: "Would you like to talk about Shor and Pym? Or anything else on your mind?"
Vosi shakes his head. "We hunted together a long time. But we made the mistake of attacking mistress's servants. Will be fine once this mission is done."
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Tiferet is back at camp just as Nathara is finishing setting up the fire. She sits silently for a while, but when the ash-skinned elven maiden takes her leave and beckons her to follow, she manages to shake some of her indolence off.
Intriguing she thinks as Nathara explains the meaning of her performance. The story of two different creatures, irreconcilably alien in outlook and sensibilities, who manage to develop a mutual understanding of each other in spite of everything. She wonders if Vosi is able – or willing – to take the hint. In a way, she hopes so; for otherwise that kind of stories have the tendency to end with the dragon dying.
She quickly banishes the thought, however, and tries her best to relax. For once, she's just there as a spectator. As soon as she unravels the intrinsic rhythmic structure of her performance, she starts banging it on her drums, following Nathara's movements as they get more and more frenetic before humming a cavernous, syncopated tune to accompany the truncated nature of her dance.
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"Thanks." Inire said, looking way, "I know it's... normal. Just like eating raw meat is normal, and killing rabbits is normal, and sleeping in the snow, going hungry.." she trails off, "But... that doesn't mean I have to like any of it." her face twists into a slight grimace. "Sorry." she says as she realizes she's probably insulted his lifestyle in more than one way. "It's just... everything would be easier if this normal was not the normal. None of the books I read really dealt with how to deal with the death of your enemy. It was all so... black and white. The hero killed the giant monster to save the village. But... we've killed five who killed more than five, so that we can save one. And then tomorrow, we're going to head off and kill more. And then what happens to Vosi after all that?" she asks, quietly, and well out of ear shot of the fey.
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"Not normal. Not really. I know that. Normal is, you work on a farm, or a trade. And one day you grow old, and then you die in your bed. But sometimes, sometimes that doesn't happen. Sometimes your farm burns down. Or monsters attack. But sometimes it isn't monsters, sometimes it's bandits. Or it's nobles, looking for sport. And then you have to decide, do I fight back, or do I run away? And you don't know what the right answer is, because either way could make it worse. And even when it is a monster--well, you don't always know, do you? Maybe the monster had a reason. Maybe they all do. Or maybe they just didn't know better," says Eirikr, and then he half heartedly shrugs his shoulders. "Guess I really don't know either. As for Vosi...I keep hoping he'll just wander off. Forget what he was doing. Maybe we could tell him that Evelyn is the Queen of the Pixies, and she could send him on a quest. I think he'd believe that. Maybe."
"Maybe she is." Mouse says, as he ekes a smile out of her. "We should get back to camp." she says, face slipping back towards neutral "Everyone will be ready for food, I'm sure."
As she starts to slip back towards camp, without turning around, she offers "Thanks." and... it's sincere.
Evelyn sure about the duel but she had no qualms about killing scum so didn't protest trusting Tiferet to take care of him. She didn't tell the group but if she lost Evelyn had no intention of keeping her allies word.
After the man had been dealt with Evelyn helped to set up camp while Inire and Eirikr went to hunt for food.
Morgraine watched the duel impassively. It seemed rather one-sided to her admittedly unprofessional eyes. She was glad of it, actually. It seemed foolhardy to allow the man a blade and a chance to kill, but by the time she had caught up and realized what was happening, it had already begun. At least her ally had managed to win without receiving harm to herself.
Morgraine watched the reaction of the others to the man's demise, but did not herself feel as affected as some among them appeared to be. Perhaps, despite her relative inexperience in the world, her upbringing had left her hard. Or perhaps her heart just ran more coldly. Regardless, the death was necessary, and earned besides. They could not have allowed him to go free, and leaving him tied in the cold was like as not going to result in a slow death anyway.
She helped Evelyn set up their impromptu camp then cleared the snow from a fallen tree nearby and sat to keep watch until the hunters returned.
The hunters return with their well gotten meal, enough for everyone. Firewood is easy to get from the woods, even with the snow, and it is easy to get the rabbits cooking over the fire. Vosi keeps a safe distance from the flames, eyeing the blaze carefully and nabbing a pair of the juiciest berries for his meal.
Despite the rigid temperature, Tiferet's body is drenched with sweat as she completes the last set of her callisthenics routine. Many people tend to lose themselves into mechanical tasks, or some sort of mental leisure, when they want to empty their minds – for her, it has always been strenuous physical activities. Still steaming due to the evaporating sweat, she takes a few steps toward where the snow is deeper and falls down to her knees, using magically-melted ice to clean her body from the filth of the past days' battles. And as the white washes away the red, she feels her soul cleansing, too.
There, having finally achieved that peace of mind that has eluded her in the past few hours, she meditates. To her, magic has always come intuitively, like a tune played by ear. She has never quite tried to push the boundaries of what she could do – but with the upcoming battle looming close, quite possibly the greatest of her comparatively short life, she knows she needs all the strength she can muster.
Fate, magic, music – she has always looked at those three things as an immensely intertwined weave, whose entirety is forever precluded to mortal understanding. The enlightened, the artist, the seer, however, could catch a partial glimpse of it, from time to time, as inspiration strikes them. So it is time for Tiferet to open her eyes, too.
She picks up where yesterday's vision ended, but this time she steers it in a different direction. She remembers the content of the scroll the guardian fey handed her. It was a sort of magic she wasn't very accustomed to, yet suddenly an epiphany strikes her. She feels she can replicate it, albeit in a lesser form. It is a matter of moving a thread here, adding another one there, and just like a musical motif can be concealed beneath the layers of a symphonic arrangement, so could light be used to cloak, rather than to illuminate. Simple, clear, intuitive.
Galvanized, she tries another minor experiment. She knows how to create illusory sounds. She now transfers that pattern to another section of the weave, where those same sounds can be summoned in a focused, meaningful way. "Nathara, Inire, can you hear me?" she whispers, waiting for a reply.
Inire looks up from roasting berries on a rock near the fire, not knowing precisely where the sound came from, but knowing how it worked; cantrips were very common where she was from. "Yes." she said, as she looked to Evelyn, who was very likely doing the cooking, now that they had some to do. If she hadn't, Mouse would have volunteered her.
As she had decided, once they all began to tuck in to the meal, Mouse went purely for the berries. She could still see the little rabbits' faces, ears and eyes twitching. She had made a mistake with going with Eirikr, on that front, perhaps. She may never be able to eat rabbit again. Or so she told herself. City Mouse was being Princess Mouse for this meal.
When she hears Tiferet's whisper in her ear Nathara smirks. The elf covers her mouth with her hand and whispers back: "Loud and clear. I am going to prepare that one, too."
Nathara looks a bit hungry at the fresh bunny, but knowing the reaction she incited when she asked for raw meat the last time she rather suppresses the urge for now and instead gnaws on her ration and a small share of the food Eirikr found with a thank to the hunters.
The she rolls out her bedroll and slips into it. Before she closes her eyes she turns to Inire. "I noticed you have no actual sheets and mat with you. If you like three us can share two during the guard rotation next time..." Not that it mattered this time, the others did not seem to need to sleep, but Nathara needed a fresh mind to prepare her spells anew.
So she closes her eyes and tries to rest.
Evelyn raised an eyebrow at Mouse when she speaks to nothing."Ok?" She shrugs and continues her cooking so they'd have something to eat while on the road if it wasn't all finished before they left.
"Tiferet cast a spell. I was whispering back to her." Mouse says with a shrug. "We should head out, soon, though... they'll start to wonder what happened to their people if they don't get any word."
She nods to Nathara, "Thank you... but I think I'll be fine. As long as we have a fire, the chill isn't all that bad. The furs are extremely comfortable, regardless."
"Excellent. No more losing touch when you're ahead then" she whispers back.
Her meditation done, she's suddenly aware of the succulent smell coming from the camp site. Courtesy of Eirikr and Inire's foraging and Eve's cooking, it looks like they're going to have their first hot meal in two days. Suddenly, the Silver Stoat and its hearth seems a very distant memory, as if they have been treading through snow and ice for far longer than a mere one and a half days. That's about the time I've known them she thinks looking around, voraciously eating her share. Curious. I'd swear I've been adventuring with them since forever. Thanking hunters and cook alike, she spends some time whetting her axe and ensuring all her equipment is working properly before taking a quick nap.
Sleep doesn't come easily, however, and when it does, it finds her in a melancholic mood. Whatever the outcome, come tomorrow it will be all over, everyone going their separate ways. Two days ago, she might have called them nothing but strangers, but now, she already knows she's going to miss her new-found comrade-in-arms.