Micah watched curiously as Telwyn prepared the unknown concoction. He could tell she was keenly focused on what she was doing, for her periodic chuckling grew less frequent while she worked, though it did not vanish altogether.

She beckoned him to sniff the billows of wispy steam emanating from the pot. Micah was very curious, so he dipped his head and breathed in a tentative whiff. The odor was strong and pungent, but not repulsive. The warm, potent scent seemed to clear his mind as it filled his lungs. He lifted his head again, expelling the breath slowly. “What is that for?” He received his answer when Telwyn merely stated they would see what it is good for when it finished boiling down. His curiosity would have pressed the question further, if Telwyn hadn’t abruptly changed the subject then.

"So, who's taking first watch? I've got a few more hours left, if you trust me to be the only one awake," she winked mischievously. "I can also keep an eye on this, if I do," she dipped her knife into the boiling water and stirred it carefully, then looked up at Micah for his answer.

Micah’s lips pursed as he considered her suggestion. Without giving an answer right away, he paced a few feet to a small boulder and sat down, arms crossed, while he silently mused for a moment. Did he trust her enough to allow her to take first watch? Truthfully, his distrust of this person hadn’t been dissuaded in the least since he met her; however, he couldn’t think of a logical reason why. Despite being a bit odd, she had only displayed helpful and benevolent motives thus far, and after all she had done for them he felt as though she deserved at least a little more trust, even if his irrational emotions told him otherwise. His jaw tightened while he thought it over, until at last he made his decision.

“If you want to volunteer for first watch, I have nothing against it,” he stated, overlooking his conflicted thoughts. “As long as everyone else is comfortable with it.” After giving his opinion, he relocated to a soft patch of grass near the fire and sat down. He observed the others carefully, including Telwyn. With the exception of Shyanne, he hadn’t known any of them for more than 48 hours. So why did he feel it easier to trust and accept some of them while being so suspicious of others – namely Telwyn? It didn’t make any sense; and yet, sense really had nothing to do with it. He sighed, deciding to put the turmoil aside and get some rest. I’ll lie awake for a bit, just in case, he told himself.

-------

The world returned slowly in blotches of red and purple, filling Tristan’s mind with unrelenting throbs of dull pain. He groaned, moaned, and slowly attempted to open his eyes. Even with them open, he was still surrounded in near darkness; it was still the dead of night, perhaps midnight or later. He sat up, and was immediately rewarded with both a wave of nausea and a panging ache as if his head was exploding. He grimaced, squinting his eyes tight, and held his hand to his hurting skull. “Ow,” he whined pitifully.

“Blast that vixen,” he growled, remembering his confrontation with Evewen. He slowly tried to stand, still nursing the tender bleeding wound on his head. He took a step, faltered, and leaned on the post of his tent for a few moments as he regained strength. Steeled with spite, he forced himself to continue and pushed his way out of the tent. “Sephora will hear of this,” he seethed as he made his way through camp, each footfall sending shockwaves of pain through his mind. Evewen had been very foolish to cross Tristan Redmask.

He reach Sephora’s tent and pushed his way inside, knowing she was sleeping but not caring. She’d probably be more upset with him if he waited until morning to tell her of this treachery than she would be for him waking her. “Sephora!” He called out toward her sleeping form. “Wake up – your daughter has betrayed the Clan. And she hit me, too.”

Shyanne pulled the cloak as tightly and close around her as she could. Her eyes were heavy with fatigue, but fear was keeping her awake. The events of the past few days had been a shocking change to her normal schedule and way of life.

She leaned against a log, watching the others move around the temporary camp. Her eyes finally fell closed and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

~~~

Evewen could hear her horse breathing heavily in the darkness. She had pushed him hard tonight, but she had to make it to the coast before morning. Her life depended on it. The horse would have rest enough in the days to come.

~~~

Sephora's eyes snapped open and she grabbed for the dagger to her right. However, once she realized it was only Tristan, she dropped the knife.

Then Tristan's words registered in her mind. "What?" She asked, staring at him. Her expression was one of shock and confusion.

Telwyn's eyebrow quirked ever so slightly when Micah's back turned towards her with no answer. It almost seemed as if she knew why he hesitated, but there was no irritation or impatience in her expression; only that humored look that personified her.
She smiled at his reply, but it was not her usual exuberant, playful, teasing smile, rather, it was cool and pleasant. Perhaps her energy was finally wearing out after all. She glanced around, noting the postures of those resting around the clearing and their obvious fatigue. "Very well," she said, still smiling. This mood of hers, whether brought on by the calming effect of either the herbal mixture or weariness, made her seem almost like a different person. Her body language was drastically relaxed and soothed, her laughter calmed.
She got up from her place by the fire and moved slightly away, finding a shady place under a tree and sitting down. She pulled the hood of her cloak up so it bunched around her neck and leaned back against the trunk, wiping her little horn handled knife on the grass to dry it, then examined the edge before pulling out a sharpening stone and quietly setting to work on it.
She seemed to have come to the conclusion that no-one had any objections and was settling in for a few hours watch.

Tristan tensed slightly as Sephora went for her knife, but he knew that was just a gut reaction; Sephora didn't actually intend to attack him. This assurance was proved correct when she slowly dropped the dagger, keying in on his words with keen interest.

Tristan repeated his accusation with further detail. "Evewen trespassed into my tent tonight, and stole all of the valuables I was storing in my chest. I awoke and confronted her..." He paused, suddenly realizing he didn't want to admit he was overcome by a woman who was unskilled in combat. "Well, I didn't wake fully... before I really knew what was happening, she hit me with a candlestick." He touched the wound on his head to show her, and winced slightly at the pain. "I don't know how long ago it was... I've been out of it for quite awhile."

Madam Sephora audibly growled, clenching her fists at her sides. "How could you let her go? Tristan!"

She grabbed for a cloak and quickly tied it around her shoulders. She pushed past Tristan and out of her tent. She walked by each tent and hit the side as she whistled sharply. "Everyone up!"

Sephora turned back to Tristan and said, "How could you let her go?" Her hand was pressed against her forehead as she walked toward the pit where the prisoners had been.

The smug look Tristan had held while tattle-telling on Evewen vanished as Sephora yelled at him. He struggled for an excuse. "I-I-I, uh..." Sephora pushed past him, and he stumbled backward a bit into the canvas wall of the tent, then hurried out after her.

She was truly in a fury. No, a rage. Tristan could have dealt easily with mere fury; rage was a different thing altogether. He knew from experience he would have to tread lightly.

Sephora turned on him again like a jaguar, still yelling. Tristan glared back indignantly, and pointed to his head again as he kept up with her storm toward the pit. "I told you, the little freak hit me. I'm BLEEDING, remember?"

"Your head is not the issue at hand, Tristan. My daughter is out there and she will not stop causing trouble for us until she is caught. She may be a 'little freak', but she's a sneaky, conniving little freak. Never underestimate her. She is my daughter, after all."

Sephora stopped in her tracks when she got near the pit. The guards were gone and the bonds holding the grate in place were severed. The pit was empty. She turned to Tristan, her eyes sparking with anger. "Will you please explain to me what happened here?"

Tristan was still fuming about his scolding when Sephora asked about the pit. He took a quick survey, and saw what she had noticed. A look of confusion crossed his face. He knelt by the great and lifted a flap of leather to look inside the prison. Empty.

"She.... She released the prisoners?" He asked. "Why?"

Sephora groaned, looking toward the camp. Bandits had started to file out of their tents. Her eyes turned back to Tristan and she said, "I don't know, but you're going to find out."

Tristan wanted to mention his throbbing wound again, but decided that wouldn't help his situation. "Uh, me? Alright... what do you want me to do?" He looked over the pit once more, trying to discern any possible clues from it.

"If you give me a moment and stop complaining, I'll come up with a solution." Sephora exhaled. "Knowing Evewen, she has gone to her father. To the coast."

Tristan snarled at the reprimand. "Alright, so she's gone to the coast. So what do you want me to do? Go after her?" An image of Sephora's husband crossed his mind, and he realized he was none too eager to meet up with the man again.

Sephora nodded. "Yes, exactly."

She whistled and called out, "Quill!"

Sephora turned back to Tristan. "Quill will accompany you. I know how bad you are with traveling and I hope to get this done as soon as possible. Evewen will be under her father's protection." She held up a hand, her index finger pointed. "Don't underestimate him, either. His crew is extremely loyal to him, too. Be careful."

Quill had snapped awake when Sephora had come to her tent, calling, quite loudly for everyone to wake. She scrambled off her bed on the ground, throwing back her blanket, and grabbed her dagger which was laid not to far from her pillow. She scurried to the flaps of her tent, mentally noting Evewen's bed looked completely untouched. Somethings wrong... she thought.

She had just stepped out of the tent when Sephora called her, none too kindly. She bowed her head and jogged over to her leader. Brushing hair from her face, she glanced at a frustrated, whiny faced Tristan, to a fuming Sephora. "Yes, Ma'am?" She had caught something about 'Quill is going with you' but where, and when she didn't know.

Sephora smiled at Quill, though it was obvious she was still angry. "My little daughter seemed to outsmart and managed to knock out Tristan here. All in one night. She has escaped, and also released our prisoners. I have an idea as to where she's gone. You will accompany Tristan to the coast and find her."

She looked toward the gather bandits and called Blink forward. "You will also go with them."

Her eyes turned back on Quill. "Don't worry about looking for her ladyship and the others. They aren't the problem." She clenched her jaw. "My daughter has something of great importance and if it ends up in the hands of her father, I will not be happy. Evewen doesn't know that I know she has it, but I've known for a while. Find her."