Crabs. Ben willed imagery of delectable, golden-red crustaceans to the forefront of his mind. The thing that no one told him about combat and the resulting dead bodies was the smell. He couldn’t un-smell the excrement and bile the would-be robbers released as they died. There was an acrid stench that was amplified by a gentle breeze blowing through the clearing. Coming from the pyre, the popping and sizzling of fresh corpses grated on his ears, and his stomach threatened to eject what little contents it had left.

Focus on the crabs, Ben. Focus on the-

He lurched. Hands-on his knees bent at the waist. His empty stomach had nothing left to give except watery sludge. He wiped the sweat from his forehead with the collar of his dirty tunic, beyond caring whether or not any of his new companions had seen. The Priestesses’ ‘well-being’ Aura seemed less effective beyond ten paces. Conveniently, that was the distance between the two at the time of the spontaneous ejection.

He pulled himself together and prepared a pot of boiling water on the fire. The half-dozen large, muddy crustaceans had attempted an escape during the attack earlier that day. They had made it about five paces from where Ben had deposited them. He was glad that the devious bunch hadn’t managed to avoid conflict with each other and escape at the same time. Ben was also pleased that the cord that tied them together had held up. The alternatives were either Ann’s purgative mushrooms or going hungry, and he didn’t feel like going hungry.

Ben noticed movement in his periphery and turned to see a disheveled Jor limping into the clearing. Her hair was matted down to her scalp, long tangled locks billowing in the soft breeze. Her armor was filthy, and her white skirt was stained with fresh coats of blood and dirt. She approached and entered the cave, nodding at Ben before glancing toward the steadily burning pyre.

"Priestess. How is she doing?" he overhead Jor ask Ann, voice nearing total exhaustion.

"She’ll be up and about after some rest. But I’m afraid she’ll need to avoid strenuous exertion for a few days. She somehow managed to tear open her wound."

"I see. Thank you." Jor sighed with relief.

Ben stole a glance at the pair and caught Ann’s gaze.

"Why not go get yourself cleaned up. There’s a stream nearby, and it looks like Ben’s started on dinner," the Priestess told her.

Ann’s tone when she addressed Jor wasn’t necessarily hostile, but it lacked the warmth she exuded when talking to Ben. It was amicable yet distant. He decided to ask her about that later. Jor nodded and limped over to the young man sitting before a simmering pot of water.

"How did it go?" Asked Ben.

Jor dropped like a bag of rocks beside him. She stretched her long legs and rolled her shoulders, letting out a sigh of relief. She closed her big green eyes.

"Not too bad. The bandits ran in opposite directions. I spent most of the time tracking down the second one, deeper inside the blight woods than I’d liked to have gone alone."

She paused and opened her eyes before tilting her chin toward the empty quiver on her hip.

"Deeper than I should’ve gone, as poorly armed as I was."

"Did they give you any trouble?" He looked pointedly at the leg, which he assumed was bothering her.

"Those two? No. I twisted my ankle, that’s all."

The last remark sounded suspicious, he thought. He decided not to prod her ego any further and changed the topic.

"I can show you where the stre-"

"Ben, what are you doing with those… those bugs?" Her eyes went wide.

Ben followed her gaze to his muddy friends.

"Oh, these guys? They’re dinner." He smiled broadly. "And they’re not bugs; they’re crustaceans."

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She looked Ben in the eye as if he were losing it. She said nothing. A familiar expression began to settle on her face.

"Trust me. They may look muddy and grey right now, but once you boil them-"

"I see. Thank you." She interrupted. "I think I’ll go look for that stream now. Please don’t wait for me to make it back by dinner time. By all means, dig in." She blabbered and hurriedly stood before limping away determinedly towards the woods.

"Jor!" Ben called after her.

"NO! I mean. No, really. I’m not even hungry! I promise," she replied, not turning to face him.

"The stream is that way!" he pointed.

Jor stopped awkwardly and looked at Ben, then toward the direction he indicated.

"Got it! See you later!"

Oh well, her loss.

He shrugged.

A pleasant breeze waltzed through the clearing, and the sun slowly danced to its resting place. A heavenly aroma had seen to the migration of a Priestess and an injured Berseker to the campfire. What greeted them were several steaming, bright orange shells that spoke of a feast fit for the Gods.

"Good evening, ladies," Ben said royally.

Ainsle nodded, grinning, and Ann curtsied silently with a tired smile. The old woman seemed to have recovered from her collapse earlier, and Ben noticed that she had decided to remain wrapped in fur. Ben glanced at her stomach as they approached, and he noticed that her wound had been covered in beige fabric. He looked towards the Priestess and saw that she had torn off a hand's length of her dress to use as a bandage for the Berserker. The young man saw the Priestess’ ankles for the first time.

Ankles. Really, Ben? Ankles?

Surprised that it had even been a point of note.

The pair sat at the campfire in front of a makeshift tray made of salvaged bark. The old woman’s animosity toward the Priestess seemed to have left with the passing breeze, and Ben was glad to see that she had returned to her usual sharp, easy-going demeanor. He cracked open a leg and demonstrated how to consume the divine cuisine before insisting they help themselves.

The Priestess had expressed apprehension at an offered pincer, which she accepted with graceful fingers. She did not voice her suspicions, though the young man was confident that she was only moments away from pure bliss. Ann took a dainty bite of the scrumptious meat. Her eyes widened before slowly closing as she "mmm'd" in pleasure. Ben’s face was plastered with the biggest shit-eating grin of a caliber never before seen in the clearing.

However, Ainsle had no such scruples, as was evident by the way she had devoured the first crab, gills, innards, and all.

"I’ll tell you what, Benny-boy. If it doesn’t work out with Miss ‘Holy-knickers’ over here. There’s always room in my bedroll for someone who can cook like this." She got out between mouthfuls.

Ann’s lips quirked as Ben found himself nodding haughtily at the praise. With good spirits all around, Ben couldn’t help but worry that they were missing a body.

"Hey, Ainsle. I’m worried about Jor, it’s getting dark, and she should’ve been back from the stream by now."

"Gods, you sound like my daddy. And not the good kind of daddy, mind you." She paused to make sure the young man caught her wink. "She’ll be fine. Trust me; the girl can handle herself. She didn’t become a Squad leader by working her way up the ranks from her back." She demolished a pincer before continuing. "Don’t tell her I said that, though. I still have to give her shit from time to time. I always say, flowers don’t grow without a little shit sprinkled about their day."

Ben grinned at the turn of phrase, and as if summoned, the raven-haired Archer appeared at the edge of the clearing. Bow over her shoulder; her skin was clean and vibrant in the twilight. Her hair, once more, tamed into an obscenely long braid that gently swung behind her knees. She held most of her armor under one arm, with what appeared to be two turkey-like birds dangling from her other hand. She wore her white skirt and tunic that had been cleaned to an impressive degree, and it seemed that she had managed to replenish her quiver with crude arrows.

"Good evening."

She sat cross-legged at the campfire. And immediately flinched as she noticed the decadent feast before her, letting out a strained ‘Eep’ before wrestling her inner self for composure.

"Evening," Ben replied.

The other two occupants nodded, and she continued with no small amount of courage in the face of such a noble feast.

"Ain, you look better." She inspected the Berserker. "Did you manage to slee- How are you eating THOSE… those BUGS?!" She shrieked in terror.

"Relax, Benny says they’re not bugs... So, they’re not bugs, okay?" The older woman replied nonchalantly.

"They’re crustaceans." Ben supplied helpfully.

Wait… No, it couldn’t be.

He considered the terrified Archer and asked.

"You wouldn’t happen to be afraid of insects, would you?"

"Me afraid? That’s ridiculous! I’m not afraid of grimy, chittering, disgusting…"

She rambled before finally regaining her composure. Ben assuaged her concerns regarding the species of the crabs, which she accepted reluctantly. The Archer did not, however, accept an offered leg and instead opted to roast her catch on the fire.

Darkness settled in the camp like a comfortable blanket. The party shared stories of good and bad cooking, laughter, and a pleasant mood filled the clearing in the woods. Ben laughed along as he was content to listen quietly to the tales of the soldiers. He was glad to share this moment that wasn’t marred by an impending conflict of doom. Ann had fallen asleep on his shoulder. The food coma induced by the divine supper left the Priestess snoring blissfully.

"So, you got any stories?" Ainsle asked the young man.

Ben, unprepared for the question, answered the older woman.

"Uh, as I said before… I…"

Jor spoke up.

"Right. I think I owed you a chat."