Lydia chewed on some root, she told Gabriel was called Soldier’s Solace, as her new captain finished his story. She took her time responding.

“So, Bling is actually-”

“Part crow, part cricket, part my older sister,” Gabriel confirmed.

Lydia looked ahead to where Bling was springing between a series of fallen logs, from time to time kneeling down to examine critters wandering along the bark. Her bangles and bells rang out a discordant melody the entire time. She still looked like a woman, or a girl, at least, but her interests seemed largely animalistic.

To her credit, Bling only tried to put one insect in her mouth.

“That explains a lot,” Lydia decided.

“Yeah,” Gabriel said glumly, “To be fair, she’s probably still the most reliable one of us.”

He had meant it as a joke but Lydia did not look amused. Gabriel got the impression that incompetence was as offensive to Lydia as Vish’s presence was to Gabriel. Gabriel felt shame envelop him like the shade of the forest canopy.

“What happened to the other two? Hank and Jenna, was it?” Lydia enquired.

The shame decided to creep a little closer and hang itself over Gabriel’s shoulders like a cloak.

“Hank and Brenna? They left, not too long after Natasha’s incident,” Gabriel sighed, “We did a few more odd jobs together but, umm, they didn’t adjust well to new “leadership”. They went their own way after a while. I haven’t heard from them since.”

For a moment it looked like the warrior-woman was going to muster something comforting to say, but instead she crammed her mouth with more root.

Gabriel stared at his feet.

“So, how much of each?” Lydia asked, long enough later that most people would have considered the conversation thoroughly dead and buried.

“I’m sorry, excuse me?” Gabriel asked, breaking out of a self-pitying stupor.

“Bling,” Lydia rotated her wrist as she recalled, “Part crow, part cricket, part whatever.”

“My sister?” Gabriel supplied, his eyes narrowed.

“Yeah. How much of each?” she asked again around a mouthful of fibrous cud.

“I don’t know, and Vish won’t tell me,” Gabriel shot the mind-mapper a dirty look.

If Vish had been listening to their conversation, then he gave no indication. The mind-mapper was tying knots in a length of grass, and occasionally pausing to swat away a butterfly that seemed enamored with his bright blue robe. Camouflage was not a concept Vish bought into.

“Seems pretty nice of him,” Lydia decided.

“I know, right, he’s such a fu...” Gabriel halted in his tracks for a moment and had to triple-step to catch back up with the warrior woman, “Wait, sorry, come again now?”

“I said it seems pretty nice of him,” Lydia repeated.

“How in all of the hells do you figure that?”

“Well,” Lydia crammed more of the root into her already amply stocked gob, “the way I see it, there’s not really an answer that would make you any happier. Even if she were 95% Natasha, it wouldn’t change how she acted or the way she thought,” Lydia scratched her neck with a gauntleted finger, “And if you found out she were only 50% Natasha, or even 5% Natasha, would you love her any less?”

Gabriel thought on this a moment, “I don’t know. Maybe? Would that be wrong? It would at least help me come to terms with what I could expect from her - how much I could push her to be herself.”

“Do you think you’d ever stop?” Lydia said with a sideways glance.

Gabriel didn’t answer.

“So, pretty nice of him,” Lydia concluded.

Gabriel snorted, and regarded the mind-mapper once more. Vish was swearing profusely at the butterfly now, and was wind-milling both arms through the air in attempt to bat the creature to an early grave.

Gabriel suddenly realized he was carrying Vish’s bag of dirty laundry.

“No, he’s just a dick,” Gabriel decided.

Gabriel withdrew after that, though. He and Lydia walked quietly for the rest of the afternoon, exchanging only short comments on their surroundings and course. They didn’t talk any further on the matter.

The day drew on and became mercifully cooler, but the confines of the trees and shrubbery still managed to trap the humid air within, making even the evening a good deal less comfortable than it should have been. Had it been an option, Gabriel, on Lydia’s suggestion, would have opted to march through the night rather than the day, but the thick foliage masked the moonlight, and made the going treacherous. They went on longer than they should have, only stopping after Gabriel had twisted his ankle an impressive four times.

The mercenaries set up 'camp' near enough where they were. It had become too dark to find a prime spot, and their brush with the law earlier in the day had been more exhausting than any of them cared to admit. The day had yielded little in the way of supplies. Figo had failed to spot any game worth risking his limited supply of arrows on, and they had not come across a water source as yet. When they settled for the night it was with empty bellies, parched mouths, tired limbs and sweat patches of varying size and potency. The team didn’t bother to light a fire. They dropped on the dead leaves and uneven soil and tried to sleep as best they could. There was a lot of grumbling when Lydia reminded them that they should set up a watch.

It was eventually decided that Gabriel would take the first watch, Figo the second, Lydia the third, and Vish and Bling the fourth, seeing as there was general skepticism that either one could be entrusted with the task by themselves. In reality, Bling slept and woke when she pleased, and seemed to be able to function just fine with short power naps. She kept everyone company at some stage or another, and kept everyone awake at some other stage or another.

Figo’s supply of dried meat was quickly depleted, and the little water they carried was rationed out. Lydia insisted that each person take no more than two gulps; Gabriel couldn’t decide if this was to ensure their prolonged survival or if Lydia was just really precious about her things.

There was very little communication between them, save a brief altercation after Gabriel noticed that Vish had constructed himself a bed from six of his dirty robes and did not seem intent on sharing. Lydia eventually managed to convince Vish that some accident might befall him if he didn't portion out the rest of his laundry for their use. Vish finally relented. He initially invited Lydia to share his makeshift bed, then, after the world stopped spinning, he gave Lydia a small stack of robes, and everyone else an assortment of trousers and used undergarments.

Gabriel decided he would stick with leaves.

“So, Lydia,” Gabriel said, “I shared a story with you, why don’t you share a story with us?”

“No,” Lydia replied, and rolled over to sleep.

The next morning the party woke near enough with the light, some because they were inclined to, others because the prospect of walking was starting to sound more restful than trying to find a position which didn’t cause chronic back pain. In near silence they assembled themselves in vaguely upright positions and carried on in what they hoped was a Northerly direction.

Their first real break came around noon, when they happened upon a stream dissecting the forest from North-West to South-East.

“Gods of the earth, of the soil and of the trees, thank you, thank you for this blessing you have bestowed upon us,” Vish said, as he plunged he head and shoulders into the shallow waters and made a decent impression of a reverse fountain.

“I didn’t know you were religious,” Figo commented.

“For the next fifteen minutes I am,” Vish declared, as he began dumping his laundry into the clear stream and rubbing cool water on his chest.

Gabriel couldn’t help but relate, for once. The stream seemed as magical and rejuvenating as if it were milk flowing from the teat of the Roskin’s fabled cow goddess. After a few sips, Gabriel worked hard to put that image from his mind.

“Okay,” Gabriel said with satisfaction, “things are coming together a bit. We’re going the right way,” he looked at Lydia and Figo who nodded in unison, “We’ve found some water, and, as an added bonus, we are a good distance away from anyone who wants to kill us.”

“Bold claim,” Vish said between gulps.

“Plus, there’s an outside chance that Vish might drown! I’m a very happy man, right now,” Gabriel said, undeterred.

“We should rest here a short while,” Lydia instructed, “the midday sun is harsh, even beneath the trees, and we could do with bathing and rehydrating,” she was unfastening her armour as she spoke, dispensing with any objection.

“A good idea,” Gabriel agreed, “if your initial estimation was correct then we still have a day or two before we are clear of this cursed forest. We should conserve our en-” Gabriel was distracted by some splashing further upstream, “Gods, Natasha, wait!”

Natasha had stripped down, apparently completely, and was nothing but a head poking up from half a foot’s worth of water. She looked at Gabriel perplexed.

“Don’t just, you can’t, you need to,” Gabriel flummoxed, “Lydia?”

“I’m on it,” Lydia reassured him as she moved to intercept Bling with one of the redhead’s many cloaks.

“At least she remembered to take her clothes off this time,” Figo said optimistically.

Gabriel glared in response.

“I don’t see what the problem is, we’re all adults here and-” Vish’s remark was cut off when Gabriel planted a foot on the mind-mappers arse and nudged him headlong into the water.

“Vish, Figo, we’re going downstream, now!” Gabriel instructed, and traipsed down the shallow river.

Figo gave Vish a reprimanding look and followed after their leader. The mind-mapper eventually did the same, but with a lot of grumbling, and a small island of soaked clothing preceding him as he waded.

When they were a respectful distance away, the men went about bathing as well.

“So, what do you guys make of Lydia?” Gabriel asked his troops.

Vish smiled, slowly.

“Gods, Vish, how are you so consistently creepy?” Gabriel asked.

Vish hesitated, “It’s cultural?”

“I am willing to bet that you are a disgrace to any and all cultures, Vish,” Gabriel retorted, receiving an obscene gesture in return.

“I like her,” Figo cut in, either unaware or uncaring of the others” spat, “she reminds me of a Dhorm!”

Gabriel grunted, “We should be so lucky.”

“A dom.?” Vish asked with a grin and a raised eyebrow.

“A Dhorm, you airhead,” Gabriel thought a moment, “You do know what a Dhorm is, right?”

Vish just shrugged and scooped water over his head and shoulders.

“You’ve not heard of the Dhorm?” Figo was baffled, “They’re the most legendary beings known to man!”

“Huh,” Vish replied, “I thought that was me.”

“The Dhorm aren’t legendary arseholes,” Gabriel clarified.

Figo carried on excitedly, despite the interruption, “The Dhorm are a warrior race, who live in the West. They are giants among men, with the strength of three horses. Tradition says that once they are accepted into the army, they may never again be seen in public without their armour. It’s said to be a sign of their rank, and so their place in the world.”

Vish cleared some water out of his ears as he said, “Lame.”

Figo was affronted, “They are the most respected warriors in all the land!”

“Yeah, but, can they imprint souls on things?”

“Well, I don’t think-”

“Then, laaame,” Vish intoned.

Figo spent the rest of their washing period trying to demonstrate to Gabriel just how wrong Vish was about the Dhorm, which led to Gabriel calling their rest short and returning to Natasha and Lydia sooner than planned.

Bling was helping Lydia fasten her gauntlet when the men arrived.

“Can we continue?” the warrior asked.

Gabriel exhaled long and slow, “The sooner we get back to civilization, the better.”

The party started moving.

“Wait, hold up, my stuff is still wet,” Vish pointed out.

The party carried on moving.

“I can’t carry all of these wet clothes, they’re heavy!” Vish shouted after his disappearing comrades.

With a curse, the mind-mapper shouldered his load and made to catch up.

That afternoon was no less stifling than the previous day, but the group did settle into something of a rhythm. Time started to become an obscure concept, and they found that they were wandering hours on end without so much as a word between them. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence; it was just survival. It was like their brains had entered hibernation to protect them from crushing boredom.

Vish eventually managed to convince the others to help him carry his sack, after each individual negotiated a reasonable number of robes to use as bedding, and clothes to change into where size and girth permitted.

Bling sauntered along picking handfuls of berries to feast upon.

Figo ran back to replace Bling’s berries with ones that were actually edible.

Gabriel shuffled along like a zombie that had been reincarnated one too many times and grown thoroughly tired of the process.

Lydia killed time by chewing on a selection of roots and leaves she knew from her travels.

It was a largely mundane affair.

Their second big break came late in the afternoon, when Figo managed to shoot a grouse for dinner. Spirits lifted significantly at the prospect of a meal that wasn’t primarily bark.

Not to be accused of making the same mistake twice, they set up camp early, while there was still light enough to find a place for each of them to lie down where they were not required to contort their bodies around roots and thorns. Lydia and Figo constructed a fire, while Gabriel ensured that Vish made good on his promise and set everyone up with an adequate place to sleep.

In their impatience, they charred the grouse slightly, but the meat was still satisfyingly greasy and nourishing. They ate with relish, and generally felt better about life on the run.

The smell of cooked meat did attract a bunch of wild dogs, but the pack was small, and they exercised caution. Movement could be heard beyond the edges of the firelight, but the dogs didn’t trouble the band any further than that.

At Figo’s suggestion, they left the offal and bones from the grouse for the dogs to bicker over, which either distracted them or appeased them long enough that the mercenaries were able to put some distance between them and the feral animals during the next morning’s march.

The third day yielded a mixed blessing. Just when their water skeins were providing their last precious drops, the heavens opened and dumped an unholy quantity of rain on the travellers. They soothed their dry tongues and replenished their water supplies, but the tradeoff was that they got very, very wet.

“Don’t take this personally, Lydia,” Gabriel said as he shivered beneath a tree for the almost non-existent cover it provided, “but I’m starting to hate you again. Just a bit.”

Lydia looked entirely unconcerned, and stood motionless beside Gabriel as the rain plinked off of her armour.

“Be fair, Gabriel, the rain would have been just as bothersome if we had cloaks and spare clothing. Everything gets soaked in this kind of downpour!” Figo said cheerfully.

“Not the road, Figo. The road doesn’t,” Gabriel said, lifting one sucking boot out of the mud to demonstrate his qualm.

“We had a chance of making the forest’s edge today. This will set us back a bit,” Lydia informed them, glossing over Gabriel’s complaints.

“Fantastic! A night of camping in a swamp was just what I was hoping for to top off the whole experience,” Gabriel muttered.

Vish murmured something that might have been agreement, but it was hard to tell, he was wearing his sack and all of its contents over his head. He looked like one of those candied apples on a stick that Gabriel had seen at some festivals.

“It is what it is,” Lydia said.

“You know, sometimes I wonder why people don’t take us seriously,” Gabriel mumbled.

They tried to wait out the storm but it seemed determined to stay. They eventually decided that even slow progress was better than no progress, and plodded on their way with much slipping, sliding and swearing.

By the time they made camp for the evening everyone was thoroughly caked in mud. The good vibes of the previous day had entirely evaporated, and misery had taken the helm.

The rain had dissipated considerably, but the perpetual drizzle was still enough to prevent them from lighting a fire, not that they would have been able to find any dry wood anyway. Instead, they hunkered down as a homogenous adventuring blob, and relied on one another for body warmth.

“Has anyone ever died from, you know, drowning in mud?” Vish asked the air.

“Yes,” Gabriel said.

“Yes,” Figo added.

“Happens all the time,” Lydia reassured him.

Lydia wasn’t contributing a hell of a lot to the collective warmth pool, as she insisted on wearing her armour while she slept. She argued that she would likely be alert for the majority of the night, and anyone alert was not truly alert unless they were armed.

“Oh, okay, just wanted to check,” Vish sighed.

After some time, they settled into an uneasy rest. Vish snored on Figo’s shoulder, who in turn drooled on the mind-mapper. Bling kicked and twitched in her sleep. Gabriel’s head routinely lolled to his chest and then snapped back to attention, and, true to her word, Lydia remained more or less awake throughout the night.

That was probably what saved them.