Grot shivered as they trekked up the snowy mountain, a large pack on his back instead of Shade, and his eyes locked forward in disgust. They had only been traveling for an hour after being teleported, another reason for the orc's sour mood, and already he was regretting coming along.

“No one told me it would be so cold,” he grunted, his arms folded together like a pouty village girl.

Shade looked back and pointed out, “It's a mountain, verakt. How many are warm at their peaks?”

“Well, no one said it was near the top!”

Merdon sighed and told him, “Keep that voice raised and we'll be buried in snow, Grot.”

The chief-of-chiefs' eyes went wide and he clamped his mouth shut tightly. Walking in the stuff was bad enough. Being buried would certainly be another sort of hell altogether. After just a few more minutes, however, his expression loosened and he began to think about the trip. Three days, in the snow, to reach this temple? Surely it couldn't be snowy the whole way there.

“The weather gets better, right?” he asked, keeping his voice down this time.

Skyeyes glanced at the map. “Well, the old ruins are in a valley. It's possible the climate there is warmer than this, but by how much I can't say without seeing it.”

“Anything is better than this,” Red replied through clicking teeth. The mage wasn't so good with the cold.

“What do you have to complain about?” Grot huffed. “You can make fire.”

“Let's stay focused,” Merdon begged. “No one likes the cold up here, but nothing's going to change by complaining about it.”

“Besides, there's a settlement nearby,” Skyeyes told them.

Grot, desperate for any distraction, asked about it. “What kinda settlement? Outpost? Village? Surely it's not a city.”

“Village,” Skyeyes replied, “At least according to Verist's notes. We'll need to be careful because the path to the ruins is very close.”

“I don't fancy sneaking around a mountain at night,” Grot said with a grimace.

Merdon shook his head from the front of the line. “No way, not after dark. That's how you fall off the mountain,” he told the orc. “Which is why we need to keep alert. We'll be walking in the daylight. One sight of an orc this far out of central Avant and who knows what kind of flags get raised.”

Grot grunted and went quiet again. It was easier to stay silent with his fears keeping a muzzle on him. Shade kept a smirk on her face as they walked, and the group only halted to have a small lunch before moving on again. Skyeyes was keeping them in line with the map, as best he could, as well as keeping them abreast of how close they were to the village. Sometime in the afternoon, Merdon halted and looked around. There was a rock formation to their side and the sun was sinking low behind another peak. The priest took the opportunity to remind them of their distance.

“Getting late for mountain travel,” the human noted.

Skyeyes nodded and put away the map, while Red sighed and started using flames to clear away snow. Sarel, without a word, grabbed some stuff from Merdon's pack and made for the rocks, followed shortly by her mate.

Grot blinked and stared at the group suddenly moving in absolute synchronicity. Skyeyes found a pine tree and was scraping bark and twigs off it. Red had cleared a spot for a fire to rest, as well as the rocks that Quickclaw and Merdon were using to form a shelter with their tent poles and canvas. It had taken a single comment from the knight to set them to work, and by the time the sun had left them in darkness they had a fire and food cooking over that flame. The chief-of-chiefs was impressed.

Among the orcs, Merdon had displayed a sense of helplessness. He was lost, confused, barely keeping up. Here, with these three kobolds, was his element. They knew each other, they knew their roles, and they followed them with little thought. It was something he had seen in orc squads back home. Comrades in arms were different than mercenaries or recently formed groups. This was what he saw from them. The clockwork precision, without orders, was impressive no matter how many times one saw it. It made him feel left out. Useless.

Grot was an orc, large and strong. He was the chief-of-chiefs, a leader, a veteran warrior, and yet his skills were simply not needed among these four. Shade may have felt the same way watching them work on the campsite, but she didn't express anything about it. As ever, she observed without commentary. It was hard for Grot to guess her thoughts without turning around and looking at her, and he feared doing so would give away their idleness. So he stood quietly, watching as well until he was called on to join them for dinner. None of them noted his lack of contribution as they ate, possibly because they hadn't needed his help in the slightest. He made a mental note to himself to speak with Merdon at a late time. The human was due some apologies and compliments. What Grot had seen in the orc lands was a man lost, nearly broken, hardly the warrior he would have considered killed two dozen men in Ardmach. Compared to what he saw on the mountain they were two different men.

“I'll take first watch,” Shade volunteered when the others started getting ready for bed.

Grot frowned, upset that he didn't think of that first. “I'll take the last one then,” he said. He would get up early, that was fair.

The others didn't seem bothered at all. With two extra in their group, they could each get more sleep overall. While Merdon and the others made for their shelter, Sarel quietly slipped over to where Shade stood, tossing snow on the fire to aid her kobold night vision. They would be safer in the dark with kobolds on watch than with a beacon. Once that was done, she turned to Sarel with a smile only she could see.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked the thief while sitting down on a rock.

“I wanted to ask you why you came with us,” Sarel said quietly, so as not to disturb the ones trying to sleep.

Shade chuckled. “I wanted to see you all in action,” she admitted. “Like earlier.”

“Earlier?” Sarel frowned, trying to recall what she meant. They hadn't done anything but walk all day.

“Setting up camp,” Shade elaborated. “Merdon made a single comment and you all moved in perfect harmony. I've seen battle-ready orcs that move with less coordination.”

The blue-scaled kobold blushed. “It was only setting up camp.”

“Yes, but it was more leadership and confidence than Merdon displayed in his entire trip through the orc lands,” Shade pointed out. “It showed both Grot and myself that he's not nearly as skittish as we thought, Quickclaw.”

“Please,” the thief insisted, “we've gotten to know each other quite a lot over the past few weeks. My true name is Sarel.”

The assassin paused and then chuckled. “Forgive me, I didn't take you to be a kobold of the old ways. Those of us living free in the orcs' lands don't use two names.”

Sarel considered that, and asked, “Then Shade is your real name?”

She nodded in response. “It was a name I chose myself. My family were not exactly there to give me one.”

“I'm sorry,” Sarel sympathized. “My mother lives in Ardmach, but my father...”

Shade nodded again and sat in silence. There was a long pause while the two listened to the world around them rather than each other. Shade was on watch after all. Once the wind died down and left them in silence again, Sarel spoke.

“I want you to teach me more.”

“There's plenty to know,” Shade replied with a smile. “Our traditions are very different with the orcs.”

It took her a moment to realize what the assassin meant, but when she did, Sarel gathered all of her courage and replied, “No, not that. I mean teach me to be an assassin, like you.”

Shade frowned. “Why?”

“Because, we will be going to war very soon, and while there are certain things a thief can do for an army, they are much less compared to one of your skill,” Sarel said softly. “Perhaps I can help with ambushes, with picking locks on cages, with certain planning, but you could do all of that and more.”

“You've been thinking about this,” the black-scaled kobold accused. “Ever since we were ambushed?”

“Yes,” Sarel nodded. “Ever since that moment I've realized how helpless I am in the face of real danger. I'm no knight, nor orc, I lack the size or strength to use armor. I've trained all of my life to be agile, more so than other kobolds, and yet there are humans faster than me, stealthier.”

Shade could understand her problem. Sarel was used to bandits and guards, not soldiers, not assassins trained by a crown. She had agreed to help with a task that asked far more skill than she possessed, but it took a certain something to show her that. Likely the events in the orcs' capital had shaken her to the core, and, in a way, Shade was touched she had come to her for help. Still, it was not a simple thing the blue thief asked. It wasn't just about some special training regimen that she did or some book to read. Shade had forged herself through action, to teach without being in the same crucible was difficult for her to envision. What would she have done if she wasn't hunting slavers and nobles? How could she have prepared herself for attackers like the Eyes if she hadn't encountered hired killers first?

“I can try,” she replied at last, to Sarel's glee. “But, I must warn you, there is no point at which you will simply be an assassin. It's not a title. You've likely killed before, silently, though unrefined. All I can do is try and teach you what I know, and give you an opponent to strive to defeat.”

“Yes,” Sarel agreed, readily in fact. “I have never sparred against another kobold, especially one that fights as you do.”

Shade grinned at that. “Well then, let us see what you have learned on your own first.”

Sarel was anxious as they stepped away from camp. Not only because it was leaving them slightly without a guard, she was sure Merdon and Grot were more than enough protection if anyone came by, but because she had no idea how to fight Shade. As they came to a patch of ground the assassin liked, the black-scaled kobold took a loose stance, one Sarel hadn't seen, and challenged the thief. A dozen ideas swirled in her mind, but in the end, Sarel went with the simplest of them all. With a deep breath, she charged forward, much as she would against any normal opponent.

Shade watched Sarel's feet, the way she moved, how she carried herself forward, and at the last moment, flipped the blue kobold with a single arm. She tumbled end over end in the snow and momentarily lost track of which direction was which until she pushed herself off the ground. Sarel stared at Shade, who had only moved to face the thief once more, nearly in the same position. Shade was testing Sarel, not the other way around. It wasn't important how the black-scaled kobold fought, only how Sarel did. All Shade needed to do was watch and counter.

Sarel stood up and went in again, slower this time, which changed how her opponent reacted. Rather than toss her, Shade blocked the few strikes Sarel tossed out. The thief was slower than her, that was obvious, but in the middle of their match, it was also obvious she had little practice with her claws. They would have to fix that. A kobold's greatest ally was their claws, it was why some slavers removed them, the ones in Rastar especially. Their claws were not only sharp but durable, capable of marking stone. Against flesh and hide, they were exceptional. Her form, however, was unique. Shade recognized it as a thief's pattern for sure, the way Sarel tried to quickly prod for openings, but what she failed to do was cover her own.

With a quick motion, Shade caught Sarel in the side and spun her around, easily kicking her back into the snow while staying in place. There were merits to Sarel's stance, but there were drawbacks. It used too much energy, took so much focus, where she could easily wait for her opponent to open up instead. She smiled as she realized there were things the thief could learn about combat, things she could actually teach her.

“That's good enough,” Shade said, walking over and helping Sarel stand again. “I think I understand.”

Sarel shivered as she got to her feet. “Good, I'm freezing,” she complained.

“Get some rest,” Shade laughed. “I think you will need it.”

After Shade's watch came Red, and then Skyeyes, Sarel, and finally Merdon before Grot. When the orc came out of their shelter belted in furs and sunk down in front of the fire, he only jerked his head for Merdon to get some more rest. He didn't feel like talking. If anything he wanted to dig into their stores before sunrise. Some would find the mountain to be serene or beautiful at night. The way the moon shone off the snow, the quiet, the stars. Grot found it unbearably cold and distractingly boring. He almost hoped for something to happen to them just to enjoy a fight.

Merdon didn't leave. He kept sitting for a minute before speaking his mind. “I need someone to help train me,” the knight said upfront.

“What?” Grot asked, glancing at the human. “It's not even sunrise, Merdon.”

“I don't mean right now. In general. Even before our little scrap, when I bumped into the Eyes in the forest outside the orc lands. He's younger than me, faster, and seems to know just as much about swordplay,” Merdon admitted. “It worries me.”

Grot grunted and leaned closer to the fire. “You aren't a master swordsman, that's for sure. I could give you some tips, but nothing much. You're gonna need another human to teach you anything serious.” Orc strategy and combat was different from humans.

Merdon mulled it over and admitted, “That's fair. Maybe someone in the rebellion will be helpful, but in the meantime, I need to be good enough to survive that long.”

“You want to take on that bastard that broke your mate's arm,” Grot clarified. “I can tell. No guarantees, Merdon, but I can try.”

“Right,” Merdon said quietly. “Nothing is guaranteed.” Not their success, not their war, nothing.