Stephanie sighed, removing her vestment and grabbing a travelling cloak from the back. Aside from being really pretty, a vestment conveyed some affiliation with the church. She generally wore it to abjure brigands that had any faith or to get special treatment in town. She wasn't actually clergy, of course, but all you needed were some pretty clothes to make everyone assume you were.

She wouldn't be wearing it for a while, though, due to how noticeable it was. A shame, but perhaps lucky in a sense. If the guards assumed she was with the church, they might misdirect some of their investigations or make false assumptions.

She donned the cloak and drew the hood over her head.

George let out a good-natured whinny in response to Steve's nudging, happy to have made a new friend, but quickly went back to attention when Stephanie grabbed the reigns. She expertly directed the horses further into the woods towards the nearby village, which locals called cleverly "th'village". She wasn't sure it was large enough to have an actual name.

"Well, Vert, I'm not even sure our wizard is still alive. Could you check on him? Because if he is dead, we might be able to move faster. That would be pretty great about now. And hey, if they find his body, they might assume the traitor took us hostage to get out of town and we murdered him when we found an opening. Might leave us alone even. Hmmm..."

Actually, that was sounding pretty good. But he did kind of save them all. Well, she'd just have to wait and see.

Just as Ian was letting up he heard a growl from right nearby, he took the dagger and meant to hold it up defensively but before he could Tahra shot up between him and the wolf, apparently recognizing it as an old companion of hers which she explained as such as he stood up.

"well princess, I did promise you a safe place and that did-" Ian was cut off by the Tahra placing her hand on his cheek and kissing him. That caught him off guard as he wasn't expecting to get one regardless, much less after that previous blunder. In surprise he'd put his hands on her hips and left them there until she pulled away, A dumb grin forming on his face as she walked back over the fire.

He slipped his mask back up over his face, partly to hide the grin, before returning to the fire himself, sitting down opposite from Tahra and her wolf. He noticed that she didn't seem intent on resting, even with her wound "you should rest, Tahra, at least this time I'm mostly sure we can make it through then night" He smirked behind his mask as he realized the wolf was wrestling with Logan "but I suppose I'll keep watch anyway" He stood back up, not letting her protest, and walked a short distance away to climb up to a low hanging tree and keep watch over the camp and some of the path back toward the city.

Not long after, Jacques awoke from a much more peaceful sleep. Still in his own world, he yawned and stretched, and then rubbed his eyes. He then took a moment to take a look around, immediately noticing their newest company. A wolf. A big wolf, wrestling with Logan. A friendly big wolf?

His eyes widened, but not of it fear, but delight. It was a big ol puppy, and Jaques loved big ol puppies. "Oh my gods." He stood up, still keeping his eyes on Kolgrin. He then glanced at the princess, a big smile on his face, and pleading green eyes, waiting if he could give Kol a pet.

Vert gave a sigh and turned towards the cart to look and see if he was awake. From what she could see the wizard was asleep. Vert had noticed the merchant putting on what looked to be a holy robe. "Would you all rather have me stay out of town? I can't exactly disguise myself well due to me not having a head and all. Or if you would rather have me be close, I could just pretend to be dead." Vert added.

Steve in the meantime went back to grazing for a bit after nudging George a bit for the friendship. He was happily eating until he saw something running in the grass, a lizard. This scared Steve a bit to taking moving forward past it. He would have just trotted backwards but that was impossible for a horse to do so.

Avad wasn't sure what it was that awoke him from the half-sleep, half-unconsciousness that he'd been floating in. It couldn't be sound; there was no way to hear, with his eardrums being ripped apart. He wasn't entirely deaf, but very close to it; a noise would have to be either very close or very loud to register. It would take weeks for them to heal. It, of course, couldn't have been sight; he was unconscious. His eyes were obviously closed. It was something less concrete than either of those, something that perhaps Sergei would have shared. It was a finely-honed sense, persisting even through debilitation and/or sleep, that made itself known in those that had fought their way through dozens of battles and lived through even more assassination attempts by enemy armies. A combat sense, if you will, that gave him a vague awareness of being watched, of something around him paying close attention to him. If he was more cogent, that's likely what he would've described it as. Combat sense, if you will.

But that didn't matter anymore. Because he'd awoke. And he was not happy.

The first thing he realized upon opening his bleary eyes was that his ears hurt like the dickens. It wasn't an intense pain that he couldn't think past, but it was nonetheless irritating. The second thing, immediately after, was that he was not, in fact, in a prison. It seemed that he had been slung carelessly underneath some blankets in the back of the wagon, and the only reason he could see at all is because someone had tossed them back. I suppose that makes sense, what with trying to escape an entire kingdom of guards, he groused to himself, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. Shoving the blankets off him totally, he rose, cracking his knuckles and, immediately afterwards, realizing a single, critically important fact: OH GODS. Everything HURTS.

He instantly sat back down with an explosive thud, lying on his back with his arms spread out and trying to mute the pain that seemed to emanate from every joint in his body at once. He groaned. What I would not give for some milk-of-poppy right now. Or liquor. A lot of liquor. Though that probably wasn't a good idea, given how queasy he was feeling. Some detached part of him realized that his symptoms were simply the result of a heavier-than-usual magical overdraw, and that even six years' worth of energy in that stone hadn't been enough to fuel that spell without some of his own. His eyes remained open, looking up at the sky, clear blue and totally cloudless. The leaves of the woods rolled past him, set to the rhythm of the bumping of the cartwheels across the ground, and he found himself sinking into that blue void, leaving himself behind in a kind of meditation. The pain in his body dulled and he inhaled deeply, suddenly appreciative of the clean forest air. It smelled of loam and water.

He'd never been the best at meditation, and before too long, the world came creeping back. The pain remained slightly diminished; he was extraordinarily grateful for that fact. Sitting up, he called out in a dry, rasping voice as loudly as he could, (that is to say, slightly louder than an average person's speaking voice) "Where exactly are we going? Actually, better question: where are we?" He wasn't sure to whom he was asking these questions; ideally it was the merchant, who he belatedly realized he'd never asked the name of, and it had presumably been given during his first overdraw, but he supposed anybody could serve just as well, as long as he got an answer. With that said, he lay back down and continued watching the sky go by.

"Yeah, I don't know about bringing what appears to be a beheaded corpse into town. People might get suspicious," Stephanie replied to Vert, shrugging, "can you not, like, tie your head to your neck with a scarf or something? That's close enough to human that people probably won't get too suspicious. You can borrow one from the back. Or buy it if you want to keep it. Five silv-"

Stephanie winced as she heard a thud followed by a loud groan in the back. He was alive. Well, there went that plan.

Then again, the optimal solution would probably be to just kill everyone and leave their corpses to rot in the wood for the guard to find. Maybe leave signs of a bandit attack. She was, herself, not nearly as important as anyone else here. She was only really wanted by association, so she wouldn't have to worry about any resources spent for her capture.

The optimal solution wasn't, however, always the right one.

She winced once again as the wizard began shouting, probably nearly deaf due to the powerful thunder, otherwise he wouldn't be so loud. She leaped angrily back into the wagon and covered his mouth with her hand.

"Hey, old man," she growled at the mercenary in front, "keep us on course a minute."

She then turned to look back at the wizard. He seemed weirdly calm, and it kind of freaked her out. Maybe he accepted his inevitable departure. She didn't pretend to care for more than a minute.

"Not so loud," she hissed into his ear, "we're in the forest outside the city. Some stuff happened. I won't name names, but there's probably a manhunt out for us. Again. We're heading to th'village to the north to rest, and then to a larger city from there. Luckily, they probably think we're too dumb to bring a whole wagon into the forest, so we should have some time before they catch up."

George, meanwhile, headed straight on, unperturbed by rain or sleet or lizard. Truly a paragon of what all horses some day aspire to be. He trotted quickly and precisely, with no wasted movements, much like a master swordsman.

Tahra nodded her head, giving Jacques permission to pet Kol if he permitted it. While Logan and Kol were wrestling as though a single day had not passed since the two had last played together, Tahra was staring into the forest. Her elven eyesight allowed her to see the creature attempting to remain hidden in the shadows.

She didn’t want to alarm the others; the stranger didn’t seem to want to harm them. Giving that the creature was in the forest she took a chance that they spoke elvish. “Tar na- sambe bime i nar.”

Not overly concerned by the strangers presence Tahra allowed her thoughts to wander, she found them lingering on Ian. She had kissed him, something that as a Princess she would not always have the liberty of doing. He was a common thief…if she continued to fall for him she stood to get really hurt. She realized that as her thoughts were focused on Ian that she was smiling. The smile slowly faded into sadness. He probably did not care for her the way she was starting to care for the man who had come to rescue her from the dungeons just because of her reputation with the people. No, she was surely some sort of conquest to him.

---

Friends warming themselves by the fire was a common sight to behold in these woods. Often the tales of strange creatures found the ears of eager youngsters who would then spend a merry evening gallivanting throughout the forest in hopes of finding said fantasies. Oh, how Kellen enjoyed playing with them for those few blissful hours before sending them on their way. Though this group seemed different than the others; they appeared quite tired and downtrodden; perhaps they were fleeing from something? Kellen's thoughts drifted back to the men who had surrounded him on the path.

Dazed in thought, Kellen wasn't aware of how exposed her was. He attempted to shuffle back behind the shrubbery, but the young Elf had caught wind of him. She spoke in a tongue that was familiar to him, even though he could not speak it himself. Regardless, she seemed to be offering sanctuary to the Fey.

Emerging from the woods as cautiously as he had moved whilst within them, Kellen approached the fire without a sound. Crouching down by the flame, Kellen tucked his feathered knees up his chest and hugged them tight. He offered a curt nod and a warm smile to the Elf, awaiting for her to address him once more before speaking.