Judd changed his clothes at the river, hiding behind a large tree as he did so. The campsite was not far at all and Aalis did her best to hang his clothes from the trees around them.

“They should dry by morning.” She announced. “Oh, Suvau…that is very clever!”

Suvau put his toolbox on the back of his wagon which tipped it up on an angle. He had a blanket, treated with a waterproof agent which attached to the handles that he pegged to the ground, creating a small tent.

“When one does not have an escort of your…colouring,” he said as tactfully as he could, “who can vouch for your presence even if just to sleep in a loft, you have to know how to camp in the wild.”

Giordi went to sit down when he saw Verne coming. “I’m up, I’m up!” He declared, putting his hands up then following the archer to where he’d set up the target. “Slavedriver…”

“You can work on your archery or you can work on being a better shield wielder.”

“How does one become a better shield wielder?”

“Stand your ground and let Judd and Suvau bash at you until you break.”

“Lead on, raven haired archer.”

Judd laughed and shook his head, dropping his boots upside down and close to the fire to dry. The steel toes made for excellent protection but they had become somewhat waterlogged.

“How many days is the journey from Fort Omra to Quarre?” He asked, sitting down to put his socks on.

“I made it in four.”

“Pulling your wagon?” Suvau nodded. Judd whistled. “That’s quite the feat!”

“I am used to manual labour.” Suvau shrugged off the compliment.

“I should prepare something for us to eat.” Aalis began to chop several carrots, potatoes, turnips, an onion and put them in her pot with a scattering of seasoning. “I ought to have brought water from the river.” She lamented.

“There is a small stream nearby.” Suvau stood, waving Aalis down. “Allow me.”

Judd could see Aalis’ expression was ambiguous. On one hand, there was an uneasiness about her when she was with him, probably owing to the fear of his coloured skin. On the other, there was an engendered trust after he saved her life. And he wasn’t the only one aware of it. Aalis was both reassured and unsettled by his presence and she knew it.

“Judd?”

“Hmm?” He glanced up. Aalis was looking at him. “Sorry?”

“Was there some bread leftover from last night?”

“I think so.” He got up and found the loaf. “It’s quite stale.”

“We will toast it.”

“Ah, turning its crunchiness into intended texture.”

Aalis giggled, brushing her dreadlocks away. “Have you been having more eloquence lessons from Giordi?”

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“Every time I opened my mouth, he corrects me. I’ve started to wish he would sing more.”

“Giordi has a lovely voice.”

“Pity it nags.” Judd watched as Aalis grew frustrated by her locks getting in the way and tied them into a knot at the nape of her neck. “Why dreadlocks?”

“Excuse me?”

“Why not have…”

“Normal hair?” Aalis raised an eyebrow at him.

“Uh…yeah?” Judd cringed and was relieved to see she wasn’t insulted as she worked.

“Several years ago…actually it would be five now…I fell into a terrible fever. I was delirious for days and when I woke, my hair had become quite tangled and matted…so I bound it into intended strands and…” She shrugged, gesturing to it.

“I’m surprised you didn’t shave your head and start again.”

“Somehow I think that would have engendered more interest than my dreadlocks.” Aalis pointed out as Suvau returned with the water for the pot.

“True…after all, how many women ever cut off their hair?”

Aalis paused with a smile on her face. “I can think of one…”

Before Judd could ask, Suvau looked around. “Where is your cleric?”

“Oh,” Judd jerked his head, “he’s camping by that tree.” Suvau looked at the small lump that was Caste Undern, huddled by a tree. Judd felt bad for the guilt in Suvau’s eyes. “It’s not your fault.” He insisted.

“I am the one who makes him uncomfortable.” Suvau returned, sitting against the wagon, his long legs nearly reaching the fire.

“I think the mandates of the Order of the Grail are what make Caste uncomfortable.” Judd argued.

“He is actually quite sweet.” Aalis added.

Judd was surprised. “Sweet?”

“He is, in his own way.”

Judd shook his head, the notion of Caste’s sweetness never occurring to him before.

“And you, Judd LaMogre?” Suvau asked. “What do you think of me?” Judd lifted his eyes and met Suvau’s dark gaze which was simply starting to register as his expression and not indicative of imminent attack. “I have asked and willingly await an honest answer.”

Judd cleared his throat. “Well…I think…I would have let the werewolf kill you.” He swallowed. “Is that…I’m sorry…”

“It is as I expected.” Suvau tilted his head. “Are my people so maligned in Astaril? Are we mocked in the streets?”

“There are none of your people there.” Judd explained. “As far as I’m aware, your people only exist in Fort Omra.”

“Tolerated is perhaps a better description. If we did not earn our place, we would not be so welcomed.”

When the vegetables and seasoning had turned the water in the pot into soup, Aalis called everyone to the campfire to eat. Giordi and Verne arrived with the former boasting about being owed a drink to which the latter rolled his eyes. Aalis divided the soup amongst the six of them, noting that it didn’t go as far as when there were just five.

“Why do we have one left over?” Giordi asked, eyeing the sixth bowl.

Aalis paused then sighed. “Oh…Caste.”

She picked it up. Judd put his arm out to stop her. “He can come get it himself.”

“It is no trouble.” She insisted and left the immediate circle of light from the fire to where Caste was nestled between the roots of a tree, peering at a book, the pages mere inches from his nose. “If you were closer to the fire,” he jumped at her presence, “you would not need to squint so.” Caste pretended not to hear her, bringing his book even closer. “Caste,” Aalis squatted down, “you are going to freeze out here.”

“I will not sit at that fire.” Caste grumbled.

“Because of Suvau?” A muscle tweaked in his jaw. Aalis studied him. “Caste, he is not a bad man. He is just a man.”

“That is debatable.”

“Not out here, not in the middle of nowhere.”

“You don’t understand,” Caste snapped at her, “it is precisely because I am out here, in the middle of nowhere, that I must adhere to the letter of the law of the Order of the Grail! I am bound to the dictates of my profession and the authority I have been entrusted with! I cannot go…bending the rules to suit my own agenda.”

Aalis was surprised with the vehemence that Caste spoke. But even more than that, she was troubled by the fear and grief in his eyes. He had only been this uncomfortable when she had first joined Judd on his journey and even then, just for the first week or so. Perhaps he hadn’t even been truly at ease around her but the on edge manner had dimmed. With the presence of Suvau in their midst, he had reverted and even surpassed his previous terror and rigidity of adherence to the letter of his law.

“I will not ask you to betray the dictates of your conscience,” she murmured and stood up, “but I do not want you to become ill so far from the warmth of the fire. Caste…I am worried about you.” In more ways than just the chill of the night making you sick, she thought.

Caste couldn’t meet her gaze. Aalis didn’t know if she was getting through to him and was going to leave him to follow the direction of his conscience when he stood, clutching his book and bowl of soup.

“I…I will come closer…once I have eaten.”