"I am tired," Estelle admitted, gazing into the fire. She ate sparingly, slowly, partly out of manners given that she hadn't done any of the work for this particular meal, and partly because she knew she'd make herself sick if she ate too quickly. Compared to the brute she dined with, Estelle was thin as a rail, and the past few days had seen her grown more worn down still.

The food and the fire's warmth made her want to sleep, but she refused. Ogar, he said his name was. She thought maybe once she heard a name she'd remember why he seemed familiar, but no, nothing came to her. She'd met many people across Durandelle all through her youth, traveling around with her father and brother, but she was quite certain she'd never exchanged any words with this man before. He didn't seem overly practiced in conversation.

"I spoke of bandits, but I suppose I'm the outlaw now," she said, nearly smiling at the thought. "I opposed Duke Devereaux, not knowing that was a crime punishable by death. And now here I am... trying not to die."

She wondered if he'd even believe her. If he'd been wandering this forest for long, there was a chance he hadn't heard of what had befallen Saryonne. Or perhaps he would know exactly who she was now, and take her to the Duke and her uncle himself. Estelle found her patience, her caution, growing remarkably thin. All this running and hiding disagreed with her, and if there was anyone who might sympathize with her plight, it was others who found themselves lost and wandering in a deep, dark forest.

Or at least, that was her hope. She reached forward to cut herself a bit more of the pike.