I opened my eyes and looked up at The Veil.

  The fire was still going when I got up; a dewy sheepskin was half over me. Cavalo was already busy. He was inside cooking something already. I rubbed my wrists again, feeling the old indents that were still there, and got up.

  I went to check on my clothes, still wet. Half-asleep, I hadn't noticed Irwin sitting in the tub.

  “Fair day so far.”

  I went to cover my eyes.

  “Don't worry, there's nothing to see.”

  I heard him stand up from the bath.

  “See?”

  I peeked.

  He was wearing breeches. He was quite strong-looking now that I saw all of him. His broad shoulders fed into a thick neck.

  “How did you sleep?” he said, slipping back into the water. “I imagine it was good; you were snoring like a troll.”

  “It was nice.”

  Cavalo's cooking was making its way over here now, fish.

  “For this being a prison, you sure do eat well here.”

  “No, that's a Cavalo specialty. He hasn't really decided what he wants to do with his free time yet. He started with masonry, said 'It's in my blood!', he tried painting, ran out of paints and moved on... Was a tailor for a Badwani woman in Old Town. He even tried writing manuscripts on 'The Nature of Equestrian Furthering'. Now he's a chef. I won't complain.”

  That smile again.

  “What about you?”

  “I used to make maps, well... copy them.”

  He sat up straight in the tub.

  “Map makers don't normally end up in prison, especially ones this far out.”

  Cavalo made his way around the cabin carrying an old hemp satchel, “Glad to see you up, would you mind helping with breakfast?”

  He was looking at me.

  “What can I do?”

  “Some fiddle ferns and Cattail shoots. You can find both just down the creek. Make sure the shoots you get aren't woody!”

  He tossed the bag to me and turned back around. Satisfied with my lack of protest.

  “Better get going,” Irwin said, lowering himself further. “If you find any mushrooms, grab those too. There's a good patch by the big ironwood tree, you can't miss it.”

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  “Should be easy enough, I'll be back soon.”

  I walked over to the creek and started heading south.

  The stream turned into almost a small river by the time I saw the ironwood tree. The water was shallow, cool, and clear. The sun was shining straight down into the valley. It was getting a bit warm, and that creek was offering a solution. I took off my cloak and satchel, then walked into the stream and started my search for cattails. The water running over my feet, fish nibbling at my skin. I sat on a rock and started digging shoots from the pebbled bottom. I wonder who that Red Mage is, Pyrus.

  I stood back up and walked over to my stuff. As I was fastening the clasp of the cloak, I heard some laughing from the path side of the creek, just below my line of sight. I crouched in the reeds and waited. Two men wearing a red tabard that covered chain shirts. Each was armed with a spear. They had some insignia on the cloth, but I couldn't make it out. It was worn down and faded. They came up over the dip talking.

  “ … Wolves, Goblins. I'm sick of 'em. I still don't understand why we can't just exterminate 'em all and be done with it, one week's all it'd take.” The older of the two protested.

  One soldier, taller with long hair, had pulled a water-skin from his belt and took a long drink; he winced at the taste. He looked like he had some elf in him. Thin with keen eyes. Prettier than he ought to be. He offered the skin to his friend. After a big swig, he stopped and turned towards the creek, handing back the skin over his shoulder.

  He pulled out his member and started to empty his water-skin, swaying side to side. I was surprised to see he didn't land face-first in his own piss. The stream was long.

  “Less than that. Hardly 30 wolves are left, and all the goblins have been pushed into their forest. 3 days.” His stream trickled off as the bubbles continued down the valley. He tucked himself away and started to turn back around, but then something caught his eye.

  “Oi, girl,” he nudged his friend and pointed right at me.

  I stood up. “Sorry, sir, I didn't mean to skulk about.”

  “What are you doing out this far? You fresh in? K'mere.” The bald one was suddenly interested.

  I took my cloak off and left it on this side with the satchel, then kicked my boots off, making a show of it. Through the knee-deep water, I met them on the other side.

  “I'm just out looking for something Ricardo lost yesterday.” The older man was completely gone.

  “Great, now I've gotta piss.” The bald guard went to the stream and let it flow.

  “What're you searchin' for?”

  “It's an inlaid flask, with some kind of gems in an 'R'. Apparently, it was a gift.”

  The handsome one offered me the flask. I took it and pretended to take a drink, and gave a wince. He laughed as I handed it back.

  He looked me up and down, then said, “They didn't give you a pony?” The other man had finished up.

  “No, and the stable master wasn't going to give me one without his word approval... You know.”

  “Well, you can turn back now. We will keep an eye out for it. A little girl shouldn't be out this far; you'd be lucky to return by nightfall if you left now.” He nodded towards the road.

  “Dismissed.”

  "Thank you, sir. What was your name? I'll need to tell them who took over the search.”

  “Vino. You can go, now get moving, kid.”

  They wandered back up the road, and after a few minutes, I went back to my stuff. I put my cloak back on and wrapped my boots. I went back to the trees and sat down. A few deep breaths, and I decided to head into the forest and search for the fiddleferns.

  The forest here was old, mossey stones and rotten logs littered the area. It had that familiar scent of leaves decaying into the ground. Small squirrels were running around, digging holes, trying to find their cache. Their distinct footsteps were the only thing breaking the silence.

  Birds...

  I made my way to a small clearing, in which stood a large stone circle. Covered in vines, surrounded by rubble, I wandered closer. There were strange symbols all over it, in small sections. I sat there for a bit, trying to make sense of it. It meant something, just not to me. I started looking around. There were plenty of fiddleferns around. I easily filled the bag and decided to skip the ironwood. Irwin could live without his mushrooms, and Cavalo would forgive the lack of shoots.