"I don't get it," Sameth complained, pulling a piece of rope out of a nearby crate and bending over the unconscious man. "Why don't we just kill him?"

"Why?" Matner asked, looking around for something clean he could tie over his own wound. "There's no real victory in killing a now defenseless, unconscious man."

"He'd kill us, sure as sky," Sameth grumbled, tying the rope around the man's stump and pulling it sharply tight.

"Maybe," Matner agreed. "But that just makes us the better men, now doesn't it."

"Better people," Larissa corrected, coming up to them. "Frank said you were wounded. Evara's busy, so I said I'd come take a look."

"It's not too bad," Matner said, gesturing at it. "It hurts quite a bit though."

"That's bleeding quite a bit," Larissa said, frowning at it. "Maybe you should sit down."

"Yeah, that might be a good idea," he nodded, realizing he was feeling a little light-headed. He did his best not to show it, however, as he took a seat on a nearby barrel. She moved a crate for him to put his foot up onto so she could get a better look, and he tried not to wince too much when he lifted it. Without wasting any time, Larissa pulled a water flask out of a bag she had slung over one shoulder and doused the wound with water from it. She then tore the fabric further apart before rinsing it again. Then she peered at it for a moment before pulling some items out of her bag.

"That's going to need stitches," she said, beginning to thread a needle.

It actually needed quite a few stitches, and each one hurt. He was glad he was sitting down, holding the barrel with a white-knuckled death grip. He gritted his teeth and was glad he managed to get through it without crying out once. He watched her face after deciding that watching what she was doing was not making it easier.

Frank came over as she was finishing. "How bad?" he asked.

"Oh, I’m thinking it'll be fine," Larissa answered, "but he'll need to be a little easy on it for a couple of days probably, while it closes up some."

"Well, for now we have two extra horses," Frank said grimly. "Matner, take Linden's horse. Sameth, you're alright?"

"Yep, never hit. I'm fine. How bad was it?"

"Linden's dead. Raleth might live, but right now it's not looking good for him. We're going to stay here a day and wait and see how he does. He'll be riding a wagon for a while if he comes out of it. A couple others hurt a little, about as bad as Matner here. Fortunately we got as much warning as we did. Good job on the alarm, Matner. You get paid extra for today."

As Frank walked off Matner felt a little proud for a moment. Looking at Frank's slouched shoulders Matner wished that a little extra pay had come with a lower price.

It took some time before things settled down again in camp, but eventually Matner found himself sent to bed after Evara came and checked on Larissa's stitching and bandaging. Sameth, however, did not return to the tent. Since he was unwounded, Sameth was one of the ones elected to keep watch for what was left of the night. Matner changed out of his torn, bloody pants and climbed into his bedroll feeling half guilty and half grateful that he was getting to go back to sleep.

His dreams were uneasy, and he found himself waking several times during the few remaining hours of sleep. In some dreams it was the campfire attacking the camp, rising up and engulfing Linden and others in flames. In others he saw Linden's body on the ground by the fire, in the puddle of blood, but he was staring at Matner and calling to him for help. In one dream he was fighting for his life and turned around to slash at an opponent behind him, only to find it was really Sameth, coming up to help only to have his stomach cut open by Matner's blade. In the last dream he had, a man he'd killed stood next to him, looking down at the dead body and asking "so that's the kind of man you are..." and shaking his head. Matner woke in a cold sweat and couldn't sleep again after that. His leg and head both seemed to be throbbing in a rhythm with each other.

He pulled some pants on carefully and limped his way out of the tent, looking for Evara. He was directed to the tent that Raleth and Linden had shared. He tapped on the tent pole and heard Evara from inside, saying he could come in. Matner ducked into the dim light of the tent, where Evara sat next the Raleth, with a lantern lit so she could see.

Raleth was covered with heavy blankets so that only his head showed above them. Evara was sitting on the ground next to him, gently dabbing at his face with what looked like a damp cloth while he turned and mumbled unhappily in his sleep. He looked terrible in the flickering light of the lantern, and Evara looked exhausted. He realized that she must have been awake all night, probably sitting where she was now. He suddenly felt guilty and didn't want to ask her to check on his leg for him.

"Sit down, how's the leg feeling?" she asked quietly, before he could say anything.

"Um... not too bad," he lied.

"Let me just check it anyway," she said, gesturing for him to sit next to her.

"I don't want to trouble you..." he began.

"It'll be more trouble later if it isn't alright," she pointed out, patting at the ground next to her again. "Just sit, Matner. I don't have the energy to argue about it. Sometimes you men are so stubborn."

He knew he looked guilty as he took a seat next to her, and mumbled an apology as he did. She moved the lantern closer to him so she could see better.

"You're going to have to take those off so I can get to the bandages," she pointed out, waving a finger at his pants.

"Are you going to just stand there looking stupid, or are you going to let me check those bandages?" she asked when he did not immediately start moving.

"Sorry," he mumbled. It was a little awkward taking his pants off in the low headroom of the tent. He had trouble using the hurt leg for balance, and ended up sitting down doing it. That made it much easier.

She unwrapped the bandages with much the same expression he remembered seeing on his mother's face while changing Isavelle's swaddling clothes. He supposed it was much the same unwrapping a wound. Either way it was probably something unpleasant.

She made a noncommittal grunt at the wound, checking it over skeptically. "It looks alright," she said eventually. "We really don't want it festering if it isn't clean enough. You don't want to lose the leg, do you?"

"No, definitely not," he answered.

"Good, then remember to be easy on it and let it heal."

He wondered what had gotten into her and lent her such an ill mood. Then he looked down at Raleth's too-pale face, and he supposed he understood.

"Do you want to be alone with him, or would you like company for a while?" he asked.

"I... I don't... you can stay if you like," she shrugged, looking flustered.

"Are you alright?" he asked, as he pulled his pants back on.

"I'm just tired," she said with a sigh. "I'm sorry Matner."

"I take it you've been up all night with him?"

She nodded and in the lamplight, he saw a tear roll down her cheek. She wiped it away with the back of her hand and sighed.

"I'm not sure he's going to survive this," she admitted. "Raleth's always been determined, which is why I think he's still alive right now. But they caught him with his guard down. Literally. It seems he was relieving himself when they came up on him. He took two knife wounds. One in the abdomen, one in the chest. He was lucky that the one in the chest didn't get far. Mostly glanced off his ribs. But the abdomenal wound... I had to cut him open more just to see what all was damaged and do what I could for him. He's lost so much blood..."

She shook her head before putting it in her hands. Matner put a hand on her shoulder to try and comfort her and he could feel that she was trembling.

"You should try and get a little sleep yourself. I could watch over him for a while," he offered.

"Have you had any experience patching up wounds?" she asked, somewhat pointedly.

"Some basic instruction on bandaging and stitching," he said. "Not much beyond that though."

She shook her head again, looking over at Raleth.

"I need to be here if anything changes," she said. "This is a little more complicated than simple stitches."

"Maybe you could just sleep here," he suggested. "I could wake you if anything seems different with him."

"No," she said. "If something changed, and you didn't notice because you didn't know what to look for, it could be something little. I know enough to know that if he died because I was sleeping I'd never forgive myself."

"But thank you, though," she added.

"Well, then how about I stay with you and at least keep you company," he offered. "You're probably not much good to him if you can't stay awake."

"That's sweet of you," she said. "I could use some company for a while."

He thought back to the couple of late night watch shifts during training exercises at the Academy. There had always been pairs, and he had found it easier to stay awake with someone to talk to. He tried to keep her involved in conversation to keep her mind going, even if her body was tiring out.

When he asked, she told about how she met Old Fredrickson, who she suggested has been called that forever, and she joked that Old was just a Dwarven surname that translated to something totally different.

She had been raised to be a seamstress by her mother, who had been raised the same way. They had a dress shop in one of the western small cities. It was a nice shop, with a constant supply of dresses, each one different from the next. The city was a crossroads stopping point, perfectly suited for travelers and passing caravans, so there was a constant stream of new and interesting materials and ideas to work with.

Several of their customers had been passing nobles and wealthy merchants. They wanted big city quality, but many of them wanted to show up at their destination with a style of dress that the local denizens would not immediately recognize.

And so their family had done well. Much of their business involved custom tailoring and alterations, and Evara was enlisted early. She started with measuring, then with some of the basic hems and seams. Eventually she was helping to do it all.

And then had come one horrible summer night. There had been a drought that year, and everything was dry and hot. Nobody ever knew how the fire started. By morning there was nothing still standing.

Evara cried describing the panic that swept the street faster even than the blaze. She described people being trampled and people being trapped in flaming buildings. Evara herself had been at a merchant's caravan, taking measurements for an alteration. She was never even able to make it to the house until morning. By then it was nothing more than a lonely black chimney rising up from a pile of smoking rubble. She saw a white skull, contrasting sharply to the black and gray surrounding it, and she bolted.

More than half the population of the city perished that night. She found herself meeting the caravan again later that day. The customer wanting the alterations had been a passenger traveling with Old Fredrickson. She had traveled with him ever since.

"Did you ever go back?" he asked her when she'd finished.

"Yes, we've passed through there. It was a long time before we first did though. I think Old Fredrickson was waiting to make sure I was ready before he went back. I did find a friend of my father's, a hatmaker that had owned a shop near ours. Otherwise, nearly everyone I had known growing up had died that night. Most of the city had been rebuilt, and new people had come and filled in the streets again. Everything looked different than I had remembered it though, it was as if it wasn't even the same place I had grown up in. The hatmaker had been able to rebuild. He'd assumed I'd died with my family."

She seemed to be looking off in the distance, as if remembering as she spoke. Then she inhaled sharply and seemed to shake herself out of the moment of thought.

"It's a good life, traveling with Old Fredrickson," she smiled. "This is my family now. And I don't like losing any of them."

She turned to look at Raleth as she spoke the last bit, and said it a little louder, as if hoping he'd hear her. As if to punctuate her words, Raleth began to cough in his sleep. Looking worried, Evara put her hands and then her ear to his chest, listening as the coughing died down. Then she sat back up again and put her hand to his brow.

"Could you get Larissa and Ennick for me? I need the two of them to cook up some herbs for me."

"Of course," Matner nodded, getting up.

On his way he passed the twins. They were carrying shovels. He gave them a curious look and they pointed out that the bodies of the dead had to be buried so they would not attract animals. They had been the last ones out of their tents, so it was up to them to do.

That reminded him of the man he had killed, and the one he had stabbed. It occurred to him that probably no one was hovering over him to make sure he lived through the night. But the fact remained that Matner had killed someone. He had avoided thinking about it until now.

But now, walking through the moonlit camp, passing the popping and cracking remnants of the fire, he wondered if he should pray for them. He supposed it was the right thing to do. On one hand, they had brought it on themselves by attacking. At the same time that did not really change anything.

He got to Larissa's tent and woke her up. He followed her to get Ennick, and for the moment he put the dead out of his mind, just like he put the throbbing in his leg out of his mind. There were still living people that needed his worry and his thoughts and prayers.

Ennick grumbled at being woken up, but crawled out and followed them back to Evara. "You know," he complained, "in just about an hour I'll need to start breakfast if people want to eat." Neither Larissa nor Matner responded to him.

He waited outside the tent while the other two went inside and got instructions from Evara. He could hear her telling Larissa which herbs needed to be used, and how much, followed by letting Ennick know how they needed to be cooked. There seemed to be four herbs involved, but one of them needed to be cooked in some water and boiled down to a mushy paste before being added slowly to the others. Meanwhile, the remaining three would be added to boiling water and then steeped like tea. Once the two were combined, it would be allowed to cool enough that she and Larissa would carefully spoon some of it into Raleth's mouth tiny bits at a time to get him to swallow it.

She also asked Ennick to start the coffee early and make it extra strong. Despite the man's complaints about getting up early, he seemed to forget his displeasure upon entering the tent, and afterwards he headed directly to the fire to add logs and stoke it into a blaze again. Larissa hurried over to one of the wagons and began opening baskets and boxes to find the herbs they needed. Matner popped his head back into the tent to check on Evara, but she waved him away.

"I'll manage, Matner, thank you," she said with a tired smile. "Once Ennick gets the coffee I'll be right as rain."

"Alright," he nodded. "But I'm not good for much else while trying to stay off this leg, so let me know if you need company or anything."

He headed to the latrine next, the throbbing in his leg overshadowed by the realization that he needed to relieve himself. He stopped short of the pit, however, seeing the blood on the ground. Someone had scattered loose dirt and grasses over most of, but here and there the ground was darker than it ought to be, and broken, dried bits of corn husks were stained red. For a moment, he was caught in the thought of what it must have been like for Raleth, standing there in the dark and suddenly attacked. He shivered, suddenly cold despite the warm summer morning, and it took a moment to shake it off before he could step forward to do what he'd come there for.

As he walked back to the camp afterwards, he wondered about the men who'd attacked them. It occurred to him that he didn't know what was happening to the ones who'd survived the fight. He decided to check with Frank and see what was going on.

He circled around the camp looking for him. It was not hard; he heard Frank's voice from a distance yelling at someone. He saw him at the far edge of camp, far from the firelight at the center.

It was mostly shadows there, although it was easy to pick out Frank's form from the two figures laid out on the ground. Frank kicked at one of them, and the man writhed but was unable to get away--obviously bound.

"Who sent you?" he heard Frank demand.

Matner paused, realizing what was going on. He knew he did not want to watch, yet at the same time he could not turn away.

Frank grabbed up the other one, by the tunic front from the looks of it. He could not hear what question Frank asked, but Frank must not have liked the answer. Frank threw the man to the ground as a frustrated porter might heave a sack of potatoes into a cart. The man hit the ground much the way a sack of potatoes might. Frank picked him up again, no less gentle.

This continued for longer than Matner thought he could stomach, and still he moved no closer and still he was unable to walk away. One man got kicked, the other picked up and thrown back down. Frank alternated back and forth a few times, until the man being kicked stopped moving.

Matner felt a little ill. He knew he should be going over there. He should be making Frank stop. Those men could not have deserved that. But he could not make himself move. Eventually Frank threw the second man for the last time and then stomped away.

He found himself moving forward, towards the two bound men. He didn't want to know what condition they were really in, but he couldn't help but look to see. One of them was unconscious, and Matner could see that most of his face was bruised. The other was no less beaten, but glared at Matner with a look so full of hatred that he found himself inadvertantly taking a step back.

Both men had been stripped of their armor and were wearing basic tunics and pants. Their hands were bound tightly behind their backs and their feet roped at the ankles. In case that wasn't enough, the ends of the ropes had been staked to the ground as well.

He found himself wondering if these were the only two left from the fight. It had seemed to him that there ought to be more who'd survived. He turned to follow Frank, and found Trevon taking a seat on a crate nearby. He decided it might be better to talk to Trevon first, based on the mood Frank had been in.

"Where are the others?" he asked, approaching Trevon.

"Dead," Trevon replied with a shrug. "The twins are burying them."

"How many were there?" Matner said, surprised.

"Nine, as far as we can tell."

"And only two are still alive?" Matner was astonished.

"Well there were more," Trevon admitted. "But the others that weren't dead by the end of the fight bled out too quick or died overnight. What with Evara watching over Raleth, she wasn't exactly available to do much for those what attacked us." He shrugged again. "They were too organized and well-equipped to be common brigands. They weren't after our food or anything, they came on straight to killing us. We need to find out why and what they were after."

"I don't know if beating it out of them is really the best way to find out though," Matner said. "It just doesn't seem right."

"No offense, Matner, but you've not been out on the road long. Sometimes politely asking just isn't going to get you what you want. Besides, as far as Frank's concerned, he lost a man last night and might still lose another. Frank thinks of us like we were his family. He doesn't like to lose members of his family, you know what I mean? Better he take his anger out on the ones who killed Linden than let it fester."

"Besides," Trevon continued, "if there are more of them that might come after us next, we'd really like to know why, right?"

"Yes," Matner agreed. "That would be good."

"And knowing why they're coming after us helps a lot," Trevon added.

Larissa came over with two cups of coffee. She handed one to each of them.

"Here," she said, "you'll need this. Raleth can't be moved yet, and Frank is not happy with staying here. He wants everyone as alert and ready as possible. Matner, you should probably stay off that leg as much as you can. Doesn't it hurt?"

"Yes," he admitted. "I've been trying to ignore it."

She pulled over another crate for him. "Well, at least sit down."

"Thank you," he said, and she held his coffee while he lowered himself to sitting.

"I wonder if Frank found out anything from them," Trevon said. "I haven't been able to tell based on his mood whether he did or not. He's kindof unreadable right now."

"I don't know that I've been around him long enough to read him," Matner admitted, taking his coffee back.

"In my experience he'll shake it off after a couple of days. It depends on how long we keep them around for," Trevon nodded off at the two bound men.

"What will we do with them?" Matner asked.

"That depends, most likely we'll kill them."

"What?!" Larissa exclaimed. "You can't do that!"

"Shouldn't we turn them in to someone or something?" Matner agreed.

"I said it depends," Trevon replied, raising an eyebrow. "Mostly on why they attacked us. I don't think they were common thieves. If they were here about our passenger situation, then we can't exactly let them go on their merry way."

"But we can't just kill them," Larissa protested. "That just isn't right!"

"They seemed more than happy to kill us last night," Trevon shrugged.

"He has a point," Matner admitted. "You've been through this before I take it?"

"I was a just as surprised as you when it first happened, to be honest," Trevon replied. "When I was a soldier I'd been posted on the border lands. There was always somewhere to take prisoners to for them to be put on trial at least. Sometimes we'd trade our prisoners for our own men who'd been caught scouting into the neighboring lands. But there were stories I heard from the old-timers. Once you're far enough out and have an army to feed you don't keep prisoners much. They slow you down, provide logistics issues. In this case, however, they could let someone in on what we're up to. We've got people to protect right now, more than just ourselves. Besides, they're guilty of trying to kill us, at the very least. Murder is punishable by death in most places I know of. Linden is dead. Maybe not by one of them specifically, we can't really know for sure since no one saw it actually happen. But they fought us with intent to kill. That's enough for me."

Author's Note

"Besides," Trevon added, looking directly at Larissa, "even if they did take any of us prisoner, I rather doubt you'd've been treated like a guest in their camp."

"You don't know they'd--"

"They attacked us in the night," Trevon interrupted. "They made no attempt at all at giving us a chance to surrender. No, they crept in and quietly butchered the first one they could. Ten'll get ya twenty they would have just killed us in our sleep if they'd had the chance."

"But--"

"It's not like they approached us in daylight with demands. They could have done that."

"I bet Old Fredrickson and his crossbow would have had something to say about that," Matner added.

"Yeah, there is that," Trevon agreed. "Also we would have outnumbered them at that point, so from their perspective they needed surprise on their side."

"I can't believe the two of you!" Larissa exploded. "Just look at them! They've already been defeated. They're bound and helpless, unable to hurt us, and yet you two are sitting there justifying how it would be alright to just slaughter them because it might be inconvenient to take them along and turn them over to the authorities! They are still people no matter what their crimes might be."

"Aye, lass," Old Fredrickson said, hobbling up to the three of them. "People who'd cut ar throats in ar sleep iffen ye gave 'em the chance. An' Frank says it be a good likelihood that they were here ta dish retribution an' take back yer elven friends. I don't suppose ye'd like ta let 'em have a go at confirmin' that the elves're with us an' which direction we be headin' then would ye?"

"But we can't just kill them..." Larissa's shoulders sagged. "We just can't. It's not right."

"No, it ain't," the dwarf agreed. "But in most places I've been the penalty fer killin' a folk is death, girl. They be guilty o' that. Killin' an' tryin' ta kill. I ain't feedin' someone who'd just as likely cut off me head, much less gettin' slowed down draggin' their sorry arse about neither. Lest they get willin' ta talk an' real cooperative-like I don't see as there be any choice about it. But even then there ain't so little trust in the world as I could muster for 'em. And I ain't gonna risk them undoin' all the hard work we already put to gittin' Sharnellynn an' her boy out. We're too far in ta let fools like them interfere."

"I..." Larissa looked defeated, and angry at the same time. She just finished by shaking her head and abruptly striding away from them. Matner rose to follow her, but Fredrickson put a hand on his arm.

"Let her go, lad." he said. "She knows it's what we gotta do, even though she don't like it. She needs time to chew it down is all. An' ye should be stayin' off that leg as it is. How's it feelin'?"

"It hurts," he said truthfully. "But that's to be expected. It would probably be feeling better if I'd remember better to go easy on it, but it's hard..."

"I know the feelin' lad. I've ne'er been good about sittin' back an' watchin'."

"Yes," Trevon said, grinning at Matner, "and when he says to stay off a leg he can mean it."

"So," Matner asked, "is it alright to ask what happened to it, or is that rude?"

"My folk an' your folk don' always see eye ta eye on what is or isn' rude, lad."

"Bitten off by a bear is my favorite story," Trevon said. "Although there are a number of stories."

"It's not really any of my business..." Matner said apologetically. He realized that maybe no one but Old Fredrickson himself knew the real story. "How many stories are there?"

"Oh, a good dozen or so, I'd say."

"Most o' 'em pretty far fetched, and not a one o' em right."

"So, are you going to tell them the truth this time?" Frank said, arriving with a bowl of small apples. He handed the bowl around, making sure everyone got one. "There's an orchard not far."

"You want the truth, Matner?" Frank asked. "The truth is he doesn't like to talk about it, mostly because of the fuss others make about it. The more wild and fanciful the stories have gotten over the years, the more he gets all humble about it. Oh, and bitten off by a giant during the Flesh Wars is my own personal favorite."

"Nah," Old Fredrickson said. "Nothin' that glam'rous."

"Another amusing story," Frank added, "was that one night he got drunk and got a gal's name tattooed on his ankle. They got into a fight, and he got so angry at her he grabbed a dinner knife and hacked it off."

"I think my favorite story," Trevon piped in, "I heard from one of the other merchants in Basket Keep. He'd heard that the leg was part of a deal made with a dragon. Old Fredrickson here had gone with a group of adventurers, as backup and in charge of the supplies the group needed. They went into an area that had warning signs posted all over, but they were arrogant, figuring that the warnings were meant for the average townsfolk, and not seasoned warriors such as themselves. Turned out they were in a dragon's claimed territory, and the beast took notice of them. Killed all but three of them quick as can be, but Old Fredrickson here stepped forward and offered to make a deal for the rest of their lives. The dragon says "what can you give me that would be of any value?" So Old Fredrickson jokes that he'd give his leg if it'd make any difference. The dragon thinks for a moment, and then says "done" and next thing you know he knocks our friend over and bites off the leg. But Fredrickson doesn't make a sound, you see. So the dragon was impressed and spat a ball of something firey back down to cauterize the wound. Then it lets them leave. The rumor goes that the dragon was so impressed by Old Fredrickson he didn't eat the leg, but sealed it in glass and has it stashed away in it's hoard."

Both Old Fredrickson and Frank burst out laughting, the dwarf nearly falling off the crate he'd been leaning against while he listened to the story. It took a minute or two before he'd caught his breath enough to respond.

"That be one o' the most far-fetched ones I've 'eard yet, Trevon!" he said, pulling his pipe from a pocket and popping the end of it in his mouth. "That be the first time that I heard o' dragons bein' involved." He shook his head in amusement as he packed a pinch of tobacco into the bowl. Frank had stepped over and lit the end of a stick in the fire and handed it over just as the dwarf was ready to light it.

"Thank ye, Frank," he lit the pipe and handed the stick back, puffing at the pipe as if he was contemplating the story he'd just heard.

"So, are you ever going to tell us what really happened?" Trevon asked.

"If I do that, ye'll stop makin' up these wond'rous stories," the Old Dwarf exclaimed. He chuckled before bringing the pipe back up to his mouth for a long pull.

"I keep tryin' to tell ye, 'tis not that int'restin' a story."

"There is a standing bet, Matner," Frank explained. "A hundred golds to whoever guesses right. But don't get your hopes up on it."

"Would you tell us if we guess right?" Matner asked the little caravan leader.

"In th' unlikely event, aye, lad, I would."

He saw Evara walking slowly towards them. She was looking down at the ground, her shoulders slumped. Her feet shuffled along beneath her. As she got closer, he could tell she had been crying.

"Frank," she said when she got there. "He's gone."

At first it looked as if Frank was going to explode. Matner noticed his hands clenching over and over again in tight fists. But instead, Frank stood up and moved to Evara and hugged her instead.

"You did everything you could," Matner heard Frank tell her.

"I'll be goin' ta pay me respects, if ye will all excuse me," Old Fredrickson said frowing. He hobbled off towards the tent Evara had just left, shaking his head and taking hard puffs on the gnarled, wooden pipe.

"Do we know what he asked?" Matner found himself wondering aloud. He couldn't help but think back on the trip Raleth had taken them on to see the strange prophet.

"What's that?" Frank asked.

"Of that man in the woods we went to see outside of Tikor. Do we know what his one question was?"

"No," Trevon replied sadly. "I don't think he told anyone Matner."

Somehow Matner found himself hung up on the realization that they had gone on the quest because Raleth had wanted them to, and nobody even knew what the man had asked of the prophet.

"Doesn't seem likely he got the answer he wanted though," Trevon added. "I don't think many of us really did. Maybe that's what we get for trying to tempt fate by knowing what's coming."

There was a quiet moment after that, before Frank gently took Evara over to her tent and waited until she'd gone inside. Then suddenly Matner realized Frank was striding angrily over towards the two prisoners with his sword drawn. He stood up, wanting to intervene, but realized Trevon had grabbed him by the arm.

"Don't. Leave it be."

Matner sat back down, feeling a little weak and sick as he once again couldn't take his eyes off of Frank. The man had stabbed his sword into the ground, through a prisoner's leg, and was down on one knee shaking the man and asking him questions. When the man didn't answer right away, Frank twisted the sword as he pulled it up and stabbed it down again through another part of the man's leg. It seemed to hit bone that time, as Frank seemed to have a difficult time getting it through the leg and into the ground. The man was screaming, obviously in terrible pain. The second prisoner had gone sheet white, watching what was happening to his comrade.

After that Frank pulled the sword back out with a sudden yank. At first the leg came with it, the sword stuck in bone, but the sword did come free. Frank took it next and pushed it very slowly into the man's abdomen. It moved slowly at first, and then faster once it eventually pierced the skin. The man screamed quite a bit more through the whole experience. After a second similar stab the man stopped moving.

Matner stared, worried about the rage in Frank. It still did not seem right.

"Close your mouth," Trevon advised.

Frank pulled the sword out and turned to the other man, who immediately started saying something. He could not tell what the man was saying, but he supposed the man was probably begging for his life, for mercy. Whatever it was, it seemed to be working for the moment. Frank did not immediately stab the man.

Matner's eyes were drawn back to the still man. There was no way to be sure from here, but he did not think the man was still breathing.

"They deserve to die," Trevon said.

"Like that?" Matner asked. Trevon did not reply. Frank beheaded the second man. Then wiped his sword on the man's shirt before turning and striding purposefully off toward the tent that Old Fredrickson was still in.

"Guess I don't need to keep an eye on 'em any more," Trevon said, standing up. "Why don't we move over by the fire. Bit cheerier there." He offered a hand to help Matner.

"Right," Matner replied, still frowning at the dead prisoners. Despite the burning in his leg that seemed to get a lot worse when he put a little weight on it, he only handed his mug over to Trevon instead of taking any help standing or walking. Trevon matched his pace as he limped his way over to the fire. The twins were there, along with Brint, Dir Ketten, Fat Ren, and Ennick. They were all talking as Ennick heated a pan on the fire and sliced bread off a loaf.

"Looks like you've got two more to bury," Trevon said to the twins as they arrived. Matner took a seat on one of the crates that had been placed around the fire, and was relieved to take the weight off the leg again.

"Already? Aww..." Nelser said.

"Told ya. Pay up," Kelver smirked, turning and smacking his brother in the arm.

"Damnit," Nelser said, digging in his pocket and tossing his brother a couple of coins. "I thought fer sure he'd wait till after lunch. C'mon Kel, let's git it done."

"Won't be long now," Ennick said, pulling out a brick of cheese and starting to slice that next.

"Got it," Nelser said as he and his brother headed off towards the bodies.

Matner found himself sitting quietly, listening to the conversation around him, and wondering about the men who'd attacked them, especially the two he'd just watched die. He realized he felt worse about them than he did the ones he'd killed himself, but mostly because they had been attacking him at the time. He hoped that Frank had found out something useful or conclusive, but thought that maybe the second prisoner would have told him anything he wanted to hear just to save his own life. There was a hard knot in Matner's stomach, and he wasn't sure what to do about it. He thought again about praying for those who'd died, although praying for Linden and Raleth seemed more of a priority to him than prayers for those who'd attacked them.

Finally Frank and Old Fredrickson came out of the tent. The dwarf hobbled straight off to one of the wagons. Frank came over to them. His face was determined-looking and all serious.

"Pack up fast, we're leaving," he announced.

"Kelver and Nelser just went to bury those two," Trevon pointed out.

"Leave them. They don't matter now. We can't spare the time. More will be coming. We move, and we move now. If it takes too long to load it gets left behind."

"I'll go tell them," Trevon said, standing up. Others rose as well, each knowing what to do. Matner hesitated, not so sure.

"Matner," Frank said, "come with me." Frank turned and strode toward the tent the elves were sharing. Matner lurched up and hobbled as fast as he could trying to catch up. He got to the tent just behind Frank.

Inside, the two elves were sitting around a tiny lamp. Sharnellynn was reading to the boy. The words were elven, and they had a beautiful elegant sound. She stopped at what sounded like the end of a sentence, and both elves looked up.

"Ahriender," Frank said, "we're packing everything up. Would you like to go help Shannah get the horses ready?"

"Alright," the boy said. Matner had not been the only one to notice early on the boy's love for horses.

"We have to move," Frank said. "There's two bounties out. Your...owner wants you back, calling you stolen property, and he's put out one along with the local magistrate. The Thieve's Guild has also put out one, a bigger one, against us for stealing you in their turf."

Frank turned to Matner next. "Matner, I want you to stay with these two morning, day, and night from now on. You've got good ears and a good heart, and not a bad head. Stay on horseback in a fight to go easy on your leg. It'll give you an advantage against unmounted men besides. Keep them on horseback," he said, indicating Sharnellynn, "and if it gets too bad, take them and run. We've sworn to get them safely away."

Frank turned back to the elf. "Matner will stay close with you from here on out. He'll need to live in the tent with you, is that alright?"

"It is not customary," she said, "and back home would be considered improper, but we have had to grow accustomed to far worse. It is acceptable."

"Good," Frank said. "I have to help get us going. Get your things packed and we'll take care of the tent for you." Frank left then, leaving Matner to briefly consider that he had been deemed acceptable.

"So, um... can I help you?" he gestured toward the bag she was putting the book back into.

"Thank you, but that is not necessary," she said. He stood there, feeling useless as she put a few more things into the bag before she rolled up the two sets of sleeping blankets and then rolled them into a small, thick carpet that she and the boy had been sitting on. She fastened two belts around the bundle, to keep it together and then held it under her arm as she slung the bag over her shoulder.

"I am ready," she said, giving him a small smile.

"Right..." he looked around at the empty tent for a moment, wondering what he was expected to do next.

"Perhaps we should gather your belongings as well?" Sharnellynn suggested, pointing a slender finger towards the tent flaps.

"Yes, I should," he nodded. He turned quickly, forgetting his leg for a moment before the abruptness of movement caused pain to rake through it. He exhaled sharply, trying not to lose his balance. He felt sure that he'd just torn at least one of the stitches. He did his best to ignore it, however, and continued out of the tent, moving a little more cautiously whenever he put weight onto it.

"It hurts," she said as they walked. He wasn't sure if it was meant as a question or a statement.

"Some," he admitted. "It was deep, but it will heal."

"It will heal faster the more you rest it."

"Yes," he replied, "I've been told that before. But I can't exactly just sit down and not do anything, can I?"

"We all do what we must," she said as they reached his tent. He lowered himself down to the ground and crawled inside. She waited outside while he packed his belongings. It took longer thad it had her, and it did not seem like he had all that much. Sameth had already packed his.

By the time he pushed his pack out of the tent and crawled out Sameth was there waiting to pull stakes out. He was barely out of the tent before it started coming down behind him.

"Rest while you can," Sameth said when Matner tried to help roll up the tent. Sameth rushed around finishing it up and hauling it off to a wagon.

"There you are," Ahriender said, finding them. The boy took Matner's pack before Matner had a chance to protest. He watched as Ahriender lugged it off towards the horses, leaning under the weight he was barely able to handle.

"He's good at helping," Matner pointed out.

"It is part of our way," Sharnellynn explained. "Come, let us get the horses ready. I will help you up into the saddle, since a hurt leg will only make it harder."

He thought about that as he made his way towards the horses. Shannah waved to him as they approached, and he could see she had both Linden and Raleth's horses saddled up. Ahriender had handed Matner's bag over to Shannah, who was securing it behind the saddle of the horse that had been Raleth's.

"Raleth's horse has always been more reliable in a fight, so Frank and I agreed you should be riding that one instead of Linden's now," she told him, gesturing towards the dark grey horse that Raleth had ridden. "Also, we've moved the luggage onto the wagons, Sharnellynn. Speed will help us more than appearances for now. You should take this horse and Ahriender can ride the one you've been riding. It will keep you both mobile with Matner if we should see trouble."

"Can I really?" Ahriender asked, looking excited. "Mother?"

"Of course," Sharnellynn replied, looking uncertain. "If it's alright with Shannah.

"I think he's read more about horses than most of the rest of them know from riding them," Shannah laughed, gesturing at the others mounting up. "And they seem to like him. We'll have to take it slow enough with the wagons at first that he'll pick up the rest before long."

Sharnellynn nodded, still looking a bit nervous about the idea, but giving Ahriender an approving smile anyway. The boy grinned, the expression seeming to light up his face in the shadows of his hood.

"I'll get him settled into the saddle," Shannah said, giving the Elven woman a warm smile. "Come with me Ahriender?" The boy nodded and the two moved off to get the third horse.

Ahriender all but jumped up into the saddle. The stirrup was a little high for the boy, but once his foot was in he was up and sitting tall and proud. Matner knew he could not do it as gracefully even not wounded.

He caught himself before trying to use his hurt leg to hoist himself up. It was habitual, it was just the leg he naturally led with. He switched feet instead, and still nearly fell, catching his balance on the saddle. That only made the pain in his leg worse.

"Let me help you," Sharnellynn insisted. He wanted to tell her that he did not need help. He wanted to not need help. How was he supposed to protect her if he could hardly take care of himself? He started to wonder if Frank had given him that job just to keep him out of the way. Grudgingly, he let her help him up.

Fortunately, the wound faced away from the horse, so sitting a saddle did not immediately make it hurt more. He watched as she nimbly hopped up, not even using the stirrup, as if she were born to a life of horses. That only made him feel worse.

It was only a few minutes more before the rest of the caravan was ready to move. He had to admit to himself he was impressed at how quickly the camp had gone from comfortable campsite to caravan-on-the-move.

"Stay close to the middle," Frank told them on his final inspection pass around. "Remember," Frank told him, drawing him aside, "keep them out of trouble, which means keeping the three of you away from any fighting. I know you'll want to be involved in defense. The danger is that you get caught up in fighting and lose track of where they are. Don't try to defend us, Matner. Let me worry about that. But remember that anyone coming after us is really coming after them. They're the ones you need to protect and defend. Understand?"

"Yes, sir," he replied automatically, feeling like he had just been given orders by one of the academy masters. He wondered how a life of banditry had taught Frank to have such an air of authority when the time arose. He supposed leading men was leading men, whether for ill or for good.

"This way," he gestured to Sharnellynn and her son, leading the way to a space between two of the wagons. He felt a little more capable, moving about on horseback, although he did notice his leg throbbing in time to the horse's gait.

"Stay between Matner and I, Ahriender," he heard the elf say. "If there's trouble, you keep behind him. Do you understand?"

"Yes, mother," the boy replied. "Are they coming for us, mother? They didn't want you to leave, did they?"

"No, they didn't," she told him with a sigh. "But, hush now. If we are always looking behind us, we will never get where we are going."

"Yes, mother."

Ahriender was silent after that, but Matner noticed that his eyes seemed to take in everything around him. While he watched the world with excitement and wonder, Sharnellynn watched it to. But there was something different in the way she looked at the passing trees. He couldn't tell if it was anxiety, determination, or a longing, but she too took everything in. For a moment her crisp, blue eyes focused on him and he sensed the expression to be more one of distrust than anything else. Her gaze didn't linger long, but it was enough to make him turn his own eyes away.

Author's Note

Have a safe and happy holiday!

He felt awful after that, and for a while he just watched the land go slowly by. She did not trust him. He could not think of a good reason why. He supposed for a moment that she simply distrusted all humans. Humans had come to her people's rescue at a high price, and then had held her probably longer than was warranted. He thought that maybe she would not be completely unfair to not trust them. Had humans been all that good to her in the past? But it was mostly humans that were helping and protecting her now, right? One dwarf and a bunch of humans. Two had already died protecting her.

He even asked himself if he had done anything to warrant any particular mistrust. He could not think of anything. Perhaps she simply did not like having someone assigned to protect her. He imagined he would feel similarly having someone babysitting him.

He determined to earn her trust and respect. He thought about all the things that had been mentioned back at the academy about knights and the noblemen's ideals. He decided he would have to embody those in every action, every word. Then she could see him as a protector, and not just someone watching over her.

Those were the things he was thinking by the time they stopped for a very short lunch. It was just cold food, and they only stopped for a few minutes. Mostly they ate while riding, but they stopped for those few minutes to give the horses a small rest. Shannah quickly changed which horses were pulling which wagons. Making sure that they got rotated around in case one wagon was heavier than the rest.

It was only a short time after Matner had finished eating his lunch that the riders came. He was aware of a commotion amongst the others before he caught a glimpse of them himself. It seemed as if a cloud of dust was rising on the road behind them, and then the riders became clear as the dust came closer. Frank rode closer to Matner as he saw Dir Ketten holding up six fingers to indicate how many he saw in the enemy group. To his surprise, Matner saw Old Fredrickson hop onto one of the horses pulling the wagons and start undoing the buckles, a shortsword belted at his waist and his heavy-looking crossbow hanging from a strap over his shoulder.

"Matner, move further down the road with Sharnellynn and Ahriender," Frank ordered. "No heroics kid, just keep them out of harm's way."

"Yes sir," Matner replied, trying not to let his frustration show at being sent away from the fight. He could see the others lining up at the other side of the wagons. Shannah was taking charge of moving the other wagons forward, nearer to the one Old Fredrickson had been driving, while the dwarf moved the horse he was on to a spot a few paces back from the guards, where he readied a bolt on the crossbow. Frank took off on his horse towards the men, his sword still in it's scabbard.

"What's he doing?" Matner called to the others, confused.

"Iffen they aren't 'ere fer us, we gotta know afore we lay inta them," Fredrickson answered. "Now git them back like he told ya, lad!"

"Yes sir," he nodded, pulling his horse back. He noticed that Sharnellynn had already pulled herself and Ahriender back to where Frank had suggested they wait out the fight. Fingering the hilt of his sword, wishing he could help the others, he moved to join them, taking up a position between them and the riders.

Chapter 07 - Flight

There was a gasp from both elves behind him. His eyes opened wide, and his mouth was open, but no sound came out. "Mother?" Ahriender whispered.

The other five horsemen charged forward while the shooter reloaded. Each of them had a crossbow and a sword. Matner watched Frank in shock, but he did not seem to be moving. The horseman finished reloading. He looked down at Frank and moved on, seeming unconcerned.

Old Fredrickson fired at one of the men, who fell from the charging horse. A few others fired and missed. Just before the horsemen reached the caravan more crossbow bolts flew out of a stand of trees. Matner saw another group of six come charging forward.

"Move back," Matner eventually said, suddenly worried about what would happen if the men decided to just shoot the elves and kill them. He had to hope they needed the elves alive, and that they would not shoot. He also wished he had a crossbow to help the caravan.

He found himself looking over at the others, huddled together with the wagons. Lady Emarelle's face had gone white with fear, and Larissa had an angry look of determination. He was suprised to see her holding a quarterstaff in a relatively battle-ready position, and wondered where it had come from. Shannah had a longbow and appeared to be aiming, waiting for any of the attackers to get past the line of guards, while Fat Ren had a crossbow and Tam stood at the front of the little group, looking strange with a sword in his hands and his wisps of gray hair catching in the breeze.

The men coming down the road hit the caravan hard. Matner watched helplessly while two of them appeared to cut down Sameth and Nelser almost effortlessly. Part of Nelser's arm went flying with his sword and he dropped from his horse to the ground, screaming before the attacker's horse trampled over him as the man moved to fight Kelver next. Matner saw the tip of another man's sword come out through Sameth's back. The man yanked his sword back out and Sameth slumped forward before rollings sideways out of the saddle. His foot caught in the straps as he fell and he dangled, dragging on the ground as the horse tried to buck and get away in fear.

Old Fredrickson managed to take down another of the men with a crossbow bolt before having to abandon the crossbow for his sword. One of the attackers had come at him directly and Matner was surprised at how well the old dwarf was with the shortsword. The remaining men in the trees ran in on foot once their friends were in too close with the caravan to give them easy targets. Most drew swords, although there was one particularly large man with an axe. That man came in and slammed the blade of the axe down into Kelver's back as the twin was distracted by trying to kill the man who'd cut off Nelser's arm. Kelver was screaming as he fought, and the scream just cut short, an expression of suprised horror on Kelver's face before he fell off his horse.

In the distance he could see Frank, struggling to try and get up on the road, too far away to make any difference if he did. Brint, Trevon, and Old Fredrickson were each fighting off two opponents, while Dir Ketten was holding off three of the men. The nomad slashed one of the attackers deeply across the face and chest, causing him to step back out of the fight. He swept his leg around low as he turned, tripping up the one trying to stay behind him and sending him sprawling. He parried the remaining man before turning again and cutting the sword deep across throat of the man on the ground. With another spin, he came around again and brought both swords up and plunged their wide points into the stomach of the remaining opponent. He leaned in and brought his knee up between the two blades to leverage the dead man back off of them before turning to help Old Fredrickson with his opponents.

Dir Ketten distracted one of the men on Old Fredrickson, and the dwarf slashed the man across the stomach. Some of the men were better armored than the others. The man grimaced back from the impact, but clearly the blade did not bite through. Dir Ketten spun completely around, and at the end his whirling blade took the man's head completely off. There was another gasp from Ahriender.

Old Fredrickson pointed off towards Matner and the elves, and said something he could not hear from a distance. Dir Ketten nodded and turned away. He ran off towards the remaining horses, sheathing his two swords on his back on the way.

When he got to the horses he lept up on to his without pausing. He wheeled the horse around and charged over to Matner. He pointed quickly at the three of them and then pointed off towards a large stand of trees in the distance.

"But we can't just leave them," Ahriender said.

"No," Matner said, finally starting to come out of the shock of it all. "Frank said to take you to safety."

"We cannot save them," Sharenellynn said softly.

Dir Ketten pointed again, a fierce look on his face.

"Come on, we have to get out of here," Matner said.

"Maybe if I went..." Sharnellynn's voice was almost lost in the sound of the battle behind him as Matner wheeled his horse around. "If you took Ahriender, and I went back..." Tears rolled down the elf's face as she watched the grisly scene.

"No Mother!" the boy face grew more horrified at her words.

"You both are coming. No time for arguing about it. That decision was made long before now." He tried to sound strict and confident about it as he brought his horse forward between their's. He took the reins of Ahriender's horse in his own and turned the beast the direction they needed to go, touching Sharnellynn's arm with his other hand.

"Those men would do far worse than you can imagine before bringing you back to Tikor, m'lady. I'm sure of it. We need to leave now."

"But what of the others?"

He was sure he heard a grunt of frustration as Dir Ketten grabbed the reins of the elven woman's horse and brought it around quickly. She had to lean in to keep from falling off the horse herself, and didn't have time to protest more. Matner kept a loose hold on the boy's reins and encouraged both horses into a gallop towards the trees that Frank had pointed out before. His mind whirled as he rode, and it was all he could do not to look back to see what was happening to the caravan. He looked forward, towards the treeline, wondering how deep in they would have to get to be safe, and how they would connect with the caravan.

If anyone survives, he couldn't help but think, his stomach churning. Those men had training. It must be quite a bounty on our heads!

Dir Ketten signalled to him as the went into the shade of the trees, and he was able to confirm that the man intended to cover their tracks behind them. He was surprised to find that Dir Ketten seemed to know the various hand signals he'd learned in his training at the academy. He'd always assumed that it was primarily taught for the military and wondered where the man had picked it up. Then he remembered Trevon had been a soldier, and decided it must have been that. He was able to figure out that Dir Ketten would be able to track them in and cover those tracks as he went. Dir Ketten dismounted and handed the reins of his horse to Matner.

Author's Note

Will they get away? Will anyone survive? Find out more tomorrow!

Matner led the elves deeper into the woods. He wondered how large the little wood was. He had been able to tell from the start that it was no large forest. He guessed it was at best a mile wide. How deep he had know way of gauging.

Even if it was only a mile square, he reasoned, it would still make it hard for the attackers to know which way to go. It would not be large enough to hide in, but large enough to hide behind, with a little head start. He decided he should get them through it quickly so that they could start making better time once through.

He guided them along, moving through the thinnest areas. Thinner areas made for faster moving, and would make it easier for Dir Ketten to cover their tracks as they went.

None of them talked as they rode. It was just the sometimes crunching of hooves, and the occasional snort. Wind rustled branches laden with big green fingered leaves. It was not eerie quiet, but thoughtful quiet. He noticed both the elves looked more relaxed--more at home. He wondered what their--her, he supposed, since Ahriender had never seen it--homeland was like.

"Are you own lands very forested?" he asked, hoping talking would help distract them from the reason for their ride.

"Much of it, yes," Sharnellynn replied. "Though we had areas of farmland as well."

"How long has it been since you've seen it?" he asked.

"How long since the war? We were loyal to our King, and we honored the arrangement he made with yours. It didn't take long after the victory before we were rounded up and sent away. It seems a lifetime ago. I was still only a girl myself."

Her voice seemed full of loss and sorrow, and Matner found himself silent again for a while afterwards. His mind hashed over the different things that had happened recently until suddenly he decided to put voice to one of his concerns.

"You don't trust me, do you?" He didn't know any other way to ask but plainly, so he did. The question seemed to take her by surprise.

"I..." she paused for a moment, as if thinking of a polite way to respond. "I don't trust many," she finally said. "To be fair, not many have given me reason to."

"have I given you any reason not to?"

"No. Not specifically."

"Good," he nodded.

"Although," she added, "you have not specifically done anything to earn it."

He deflated a bit at that statement, and he had no response to it. Instead he turned away and focused more on the woods ahead of them.

"Trust does not strictly have to be earned, but I will admit that until recently I have been less than impressed by your people. You are younger than I, so, like Ahriender, you have not experienced anything different. Servitude without choice is not the life I want for my son."

"So you'd rather risk a life of fleeing?" he asked. "Since right now that seems to be the way of it. What if it's like this all the time?"

"I would rather a life that is free than a life of slavery, which is like an un-life."

"Is it really--" he broke himself off from asking if it was really that bad. He tried to put himself in her situation. If he were captured by an enemy he would certainly go to any lengths to escape. He supposed maybe she felt the same way.

"Is it really what?" she asked. It occurred to him to wonder if she knew that his family were slave owners. How would she feel about him if she knew that? He did not want it to come up.

"Nothing. Stupid question, never mind," he said. Ahriender, he realized, had said nothing through the whole exchange. He found himself turning back and sparing the boy a glance. He had been listening closely, and his curious eyes met Matners. Matner turned back forwards to guide them under some low branches.

"It won't take long before we're out of these trees," he said, changing the topic. "We ought to veer away from the road more."

He turned them some, hoping Dir Ketten wouldn't have trouble keeping their trail. He worried, however, that it would be hard to cover if the attackers had anyone capable of tracking with them. While tracking had never been his strong suit at the academy, he did know enough to know that they were breaking a lot of small branches and twigs along the way. He suspected Dir Ketten knew enough to hide their tracks from most, but wondered if an experienced tracker would still be able to find the trail.

In the silence as they rode through the rest of the woods, he tried not to think of the battle behind them. He wished there was a safe way to turn back and find out what had happened to the rest of the caravan. In trying not to think about it, he found himself thinking about the two slaves father had owned instead. Raelwyn and Dynedren hadn't talked about themselves to him at all, but then he'd never thought to ask. He realized he'd just taken them for granted, like the rest of the staff. He had to admit that there had been little separation in his own mind between them and the hired help, but he knew that they had often been given the more menial tasks and slept apart from the others. He'd never seen their quarters, so he didn't know if they were different in that regard too. He felt torn between guilt that he'd been a party to keeping elves enslaved, or pleased that his family didn't seem to treat them badly in comparison to many others. As they reached the edge of the small woods, he decided that regardless of how his family's slaves had been treated, he really didn't want the two elves he was traveling with to know about them.

He paused at the edge of the trees, surveying the landscape before them. Most of it was farmland again, with the occasional rows of trees that had been left to serve as a windbreak between fields. Some of the rows were thicker than others and he decided to try and stick to some of them, in an effort to obscure them further from being seen by any pursuers. He wondered at what point it would be good to stop and wait for Dir Ketten, however, since the man was no longer on horseback. He decided to wait just past the first row of trees. In a few more hours it would be dark enough that he didn't want Ketten to lose their trail due to darkness. If he stopped there, Matner hoped that the man would still have just enough light to get track them with.

"We'll just wait here for a little bit and let him catch up," he said, feeling the need to explain. "Out of the woods the horses would make it harder for him to keep up."

"What if something happens to him while he's all by himself?" Ahriender asked.

"He is a very capable man, and would probably at least try to avoid trouble," Sharnellyn suggested reassuringly.

"Oh."

They waited uncomfortably while the sun set.

"Are you sure he's not in trouble?" Ahriender asked.

Just then Dir Ketten emerged from the treeline. Matner moved forward and waved him on. Dir Ketten quickly trotted over. He lept up onto his horse and turned to point along the side of the little forest. He signalled that there were enemy coming from that way, then gestured that they should go the other way. There was no arguing required to make the point.

They took off quickly. Dir Ketten slowed them from a full gallop, but they made a good canter across the farmland. They came to the first low fence at the edge of one field, but the horses were all capable of jumping it.

They rode for a couple more hours as darkness settled on the fields around them, cooling the night air. Eventually, Dir Ketten spotted an abandoned barn at the edge of one of the fields. It looked as if the farmhouse next to it had burned down at some point and the farmers had abandoned the barn itself afterwards. Birds fluttered out of holes in the roof as they pulled open one of the doors and made their way into the darkness, and Matner could hear the sounds of small animals scurrying for cover. Once inside, he pulled out a candle from his pack and cleared some ground of straw to light it over.

The dim glow of the candle made just enough light to get an eye on their surroundings. There was no chance of getting to the loft, as the barn had been abandoned long enough that about half of it had collapsed down onto the floor. The other half seemed like it would stay up for the night, but the ladder was gone so there was no safe way to get up to it. They tethered the horses in two of the standing stalls, leaving the saddles in place in case they needed to leave quickly.

"We probably shouldn't build a fire," he told them, seeing Dir Ketten nod in agreement. "This candle should be small enough that no one will see it, but the less light we use, the better."

"Next, let's take stock of what supplies we all have," he suggested, sitting down and pulling his own pack open. "Everyone seems to have had their bedrolls on their horses with them, but we're without tents so we'll need to work around that. Most nights we can sleep under the stars if need be, but we'll want to find shelter when it rains." He dumped the contents of his bag out, realizing how little there really was in useful items within it. Most of it was clothes, the book he'd bought, and some basic toiletries. In traveling with the caravan, he hadn't needed to worry about quite a few things. Food, he realized, was going to be the biggest problem.

"We'll need to do something about food," he said aloud, frowning as he looked around at what they had available. The elves didn't have much more than clothes, a couple of books, a small rug, and their bedrolls between them. Dir Ketten, on the other hand seemed prepared for quite a few emergencies. The man had bandages, rope, and a few other basics, including a small metal pot amongst his belongings. He seemed to have everything packed very neatly and tightly into his pack, and arranged it in an orderly manner on the ground so Matner could see. There was almost a smugness in the look he gave Matner, as he pulled out a small pouch of dried beef strips from his pocket and shared them around with everyone. He did frown at the empty bag, however, before tucking it back into the pocket it had come from. Matner thanked him, as did the elves before everyone was quiet for a while, chewing on the tough meat.

"Are we going to go back for the others?" Ahriender asked between bites.