Emil watched as several others arrived- the majority of them young children, who were promptly loaded onto the refugee caravans. A number among them though were young adults, around his age, mostly gathering in the back, by a young woman riding a horse. Emil felt some sort of familiarity with the girl, though with her hood down Emil couldn't see much. Aside from that group, there were another few girls by the wagons- one leaned against it seemingly lost in her thoughts, while another was with what was probably a younger sibling. Emil's attention shifted as he noticed another rider approaching the caravan. The rider was an older man, wrapped in a deep blue cloak. Like the Sergeant, his face was gruff and his hair was gray. 

[color=brown]"Sorry I'm late."[/color] The older rider called to the sergeant. The Sergeant gave a sigh that was either in exasperation, or relief. 

Returning to the front of the Caravan, the gruff sergeant called out. [color=salmon]"Alright, we're moving out!"[/color] and with that, the caravan carts started rolling. 

Emil recalled seeing other youths and refugees scrambling to gather their belongings when he and his brother rode by earlier that day. Several of them were definitely not among the refugees that were currently loaded among the caravans. Looking around, Emil saw no other caravans preparing to be loaded either- the rest of the horses and supplies were travelling with this convoy. [color=lightblue]"What about stragglers?"[/color] Emil called out, projecting his voice so it would reach the front of the caravan. [color=lightblue]"I remember seeing other children on my way here."[/color]

[color=salmon]"Leave them."[/color] the guard barked, his voice reaching the rest of the caravan. [color=salmon]"Unless you want to get caught by the Varyans as well."[/color]

Emil frowned, reluctantly spurring his horse forward to keep up with the caravan carts. Because many of the guards and youths were walking, the pace of the caravan was fairly slow, to allow those on the ground to keep up with the Caravan- provided they were moving at a fairly brisk walk.

The older, gruff rider rode up to the group in the back. [color=brown]"Don't straggle. This is a refugee caravan, not a social club."[/color] Odran said with a rough growl. [color=brown]"If you haven't got a real weapon, make sure you get one of the guards to sort you out."[/color]