Something prickled inside Artemis when Oseely said the Lady of Light wasn't around anymore. What had happened to her? Something told Artemis she didn't want to know. And giving all that power and trust to someone named the Lord of [i]Shadow[/i] hardly seemed wise. Even if these spirits were eternal, they still seemed human enough from what Artemis had seen. And human meant fallible. [i]Corruptible[/i]. 

When she was ten years old, her mother had told her about Artemis' grandfather, a man so thirsty for control and drunk with power that he'd nearly driven the valley to ruin. There'd been a rebellion, long and bloody. Her entire family had almost been overthrown, until Artemis' mother had killed him and tied his body to the castle walls for all to see. It'd kept them from being lynched by the commoners in the street, but it'd taken decades of hard work to earn the people's trust and affection back. 

She wasn't about to get in the middle of a political fight between the [i]forces of nature[/i] though. And as far as she was concerned, this wasn't her problem. So Artemis held her tongue as Oseely continued his casual explanation. A big game of tug-of-war, he said. Seemed like a lot of work.

Artemis shot him a look at his (correct) assumption that she didn't have a plan. Turning, she started walking to the mouth of the cave.

[color=darkturquoise]"Who said I didn't have a plan?"[/color] Give them a medal. [color=darkturquoise]"I always have a plan."[/color] She never had a plan.

Artemis took stock of her resources. Untrained gryphon. Questionable demi-god. Bunny mask. A rosary for some reason. Lightning stick of death. Sneaky feet. Rudimentary grasp of runes. Rune-imentary.

Now she was just stalling.

[color=darkturquoise]"If I'm going to be on my own,"[/color] she announced louder than necessary, interrupting her own thoughts, [color=darkturquoise]"I'm gonna need some more supplies."[/color] She could probably figure out things as she went, and she'd get the hang of runes eventually. But at the moment, she didn't have any useful skill set for the island aside from being an overall drain on society. Until she had a decent grasp of how to make it on her own, she was going to have to rely on others – whether they were willing or not.

A knife was always useful. Maybe a blanket. Some food and water. Better clothes. Plus whatever fun stuff she could find. She looked over her shoulder back at Oseely.

[color=darkturquoise]"Know anyone willing to lend me some?"[/color] 

Translation: who's getting robbed first?