Lana awoke in the morning feeling a good deal more rested than she had since starting out on the road. The wagon was comfortably warm, a welcome reprieve from waking already damp with the cold morning dew. For once, she did not feel compelled to crawl out from her bed immediately. Each day of the journey before, she had forced herself to confront the day, cold, damp and all, as soon as she awoke. Had she not, she knew she would have stayed under her blankets until she was forced to move. Not today though. Stretching happily in the surprising space of the bed, she let out a contented sigh. Today she could take her time, a luxury she did not have often and one she was happy to take advantage of. A glance out of the window at the head of the bed showed her that the sun had already risen over the horizon. It was still early morning but there was enough light to see the entire interior of the wagon as well as the forest clearing outside. The first thing she noticed outside were the teams of mules picketed a small distance away from the camp. They had been hidden in the night before. She was struck by just how many there were. Easily four mules for each wagon! She supposed it made sense, they would be heavy even without all of the furnishings and people inside. She did wonder how these travellers managed to feed all of them though. It was a wonder that they had not eaten the clearing bare of grass already.

The inside of the wagon was changed in the daylight too. The fancifully carved and painted furnishings of the wagon looked even richer now. She could see minute details on the carved leaves that she had not seen before, so intricate and fine that she could scarcely believe a human hand had painted them. The bedding too was far nicer than she had previously thought. The tasseled pillows were stuffed with downy feathers and made of finely dyed silk, the sheets too. Surrounded by all the finery in her none too clean clothes, she felt a flash of memory back to her first night in the Captain’s Cat not so long ago. The feeling had been much the same. She did not fit with the accommodations she was given and although she appreciated the quality of it all, she could not help but feel it was all too fancy for her. The wagon smelled fancy too, just a hint of perfume that Lana could see no source of. It made her more acutely aware of the way she smelled. She would have to find a stream to bathe in soon, the rain had not helped much.

Lana stayed a bit longer in her bed, content to enjoy the plush comfort after sleeping rough for a week. She did not think she would ever be used to the feeling of sleeping in a bed, it seemed frankly ridiculous that anyone always did, but she could certainly see the appeal. When mounted into a wagon like this one, they weren’t even all that difficult to move, though the lumbering vehicle would still be tiresome to deal with.

When she did decide it was time to start the day, she sat up only to find the ceiling was lower than she had thought. And so, nursing a lump on her head, she gingerly climbed out of the bed and down to the wagon floor. Only then did she notice that Gisela was already gone, Ketrim as well if she judged the lump in the lower bed correctly. She elected to let Jormand sleep, he would need it to heal properly, and carefully opened the door. It swung outward on well-oiled hinges, making barely a sound. She stepped out onto the stairs and closed the door quietly before hopping down onto the grass. It was still damp with the night’s rain but there were few clouds in the sky now. It was warmer too, though not exactly warm. She shivered and hugged herself as a breeze reminded her that autumn had indeed arrived. She would have to find her cloak.

Another fire had been built where the tarp had stood the night before. It crackled and popped enticingly as Lana hurried towards it. Several members of the caravan were gathered around it as well as those from Lana’s own band. These were younger than those she had glimpsed the night before. Two of them, a man and a woman both with pale skin and light, curly brown hair, were perhaps around her own age while the third was a good deal younger, hardly past her eleventh or twelfth year Lana thought. Nobody was speaking as she approached but when Elyas caught sight of her, he waved her over with a ready smile and proffered a wooden bowl. A steaming pot of porridge sat on a stone next to the fire and Elyas encouraged her to fill the bowl. The others ate in silence, intent on their food, but it was not a silence of tension. They all looked as happy as Lana felt, Gisela and Elyas especially. Ketrim sat on a log with his usual brooding face but his lips occasionally quirked into a smile, more than Lana had ever seen from him.

The morning passed slowly in the camp. Many of the folk did not leave their wagons until the sun stood well over the horizon, about the time when Jormand finally stumbled out too. They made another pot of porridge when the first ran out and kettle after kettle of tea as more and more people crowded around the fire. All together, there were a little more than a dozen of them. With the addition of Lana’s companions there was a sizable group crowded around the small fire.

Despite being heavily outnumbered, the others from Lana’s group seemed unconcerned. Aside from Jormand who stared glumly into his bowl of porridge, everyone was enjoying the slow start to the day. Conversation picked up as more people finished their meal. Ketrim spoke with the man from the night before about their travel plan and recommended changes here and there. Elyas was chatting with a woman around his own age with streaks of grey in her mostly brown hair, while scratching the ears of one of those shaggy dogs. They seemed friendly enough now. Lana thought it best to avoid them in any case.

Gisela had gone off with an older woman to one of the wagons after finishing her breakfast, leaving Lana somewhat alone in the crowd. Her instincts told her to leave the group and looking about, she did not think anyone would miss her. Everyone had their own little conversation or sat contentedly while nursing a cup of tea. Everyone, that was, except for Jormand. The shaggy haired man was looking particularly brooding that morning still dressed in his travel stained clothes, intent on his bowl of porridge that still did not seem to be any less full. He did not look up often but when Lana could catch a glimpse of his face, she saw that his eyes were red-rimmed and puffy. Even with the unprecedented comfort of the wagon beds, he had not had a restful night. Combined with his still bruised nose and untamed hair, his eyes served to make him considerably less than approachable. The half pace or so of space that was maintained by everyone around him showed that Lana was not the only one to think so either.

Looking at Jormand, for once Lana saw something more than the standoffish front he always had. He still looked surly as always, but Lana could sympathize. In this group of strangers he had no one to latch onto, he was lost, just like she was. Behind the haggard face and unkempt clothes, Lana saw herself. She shook her head ruefully. She was grasping at straws in an uncomfortable situation, that was all. She went to join him on his log anyway.

As Lana approached, Jormand shifted to the side a little, making room for her on the old log that served as a bench. The bark had long since been stripped off by time and the elements and Lana could see rot beginning to set in, not that it really mattered. There was plenty of space for Lana even before Jormand moved but she appreciated the gesture. The brute could be a gentleman when it suited him, apparently.

As Lana took her seat, Jormand turned his head to regard her. He looked even worse close at hand. His face bore a few days of stubble that did not really resemble a beard at all. Patchy and course, it only made him look more sickly, an easy task given his sunken cheeks and swollen eyes. Lana regretted her choice to approach him for a moment before he cracked a weak smile, baring surprisingly intact teeth for a brawler. It was a little disconcerting on his face but reassuring regardless. Lana settled onto the log and leaned forward, elbows on her knees.

The two of them were quiet for a while. Jormand finished his bowl and set it on the grass before him where a beam of light through the thinning canopy cast rough shadows off the remaining dregs of porridge. Around them people moved and talked, preparing for the day’s journey lethargically. No one seemed to really care about the time they wasted. It was pleasant, the lazy morning. Everything was drenched in the yellow morning sunlight tinged with red, orange from the leaves that still clung to life. The beams of light trickling through half-empty boughs mingled with streamers of smoke from the fire and from time to time a leaf would fall slowly to the ground, waving with the mild breeze. Those falling leaves moved like the people below them. Meandering with a goal in mind but without a care for when they reached it. It was pleasant to watch but Lana did not think she could join them. They must be ignoring some danger to live so carefree, like the leaves that eventually met the earth and were crushed by uncaring boots. To Lana there was a lingering anxiety that she did not think anyone else felt at all but it pricked at her, refusing to be ignored even as she tried to do just that.

The fire began to fade as it ran out of wood to burn, leaving only a few glowing coals under a pile of ash. A young man scooped one of them up into a metal box that he hung at his hips and then, as he walked away, Lana realized that she and Jormand had been left entirely alone. The others were busying themselves with hitching the mule teams to the wagons or packing away the porridge pot or the tea kettle or the tarp that had been drying on the roof of one wagon. The only company they were left with was one of those shaggy dogs. It had been laying next to the fire the whole morning, its tongue lolling out lazily. It looked a lot less threatening in daylight. It might have even been endearing except for those long, bone-white teeth that were all too visible right then. Lana kept an eye on it though it did not move at all except to roll around on the damp grass from time to time.

The preparations for travel went about as slowly as breakfast had. The men and women of the caravan showed little care for departing on time, indeed they did not seem to care if they left at all except for that they had promised to when negotiating with Ketrim the night before. They took their time getting ready, often stopping to chat with one another, laughing and joking while performing their tasks with the assuredness of experience. They included the strangers too, it did not seem to matter to them who they spoke to. Lana caught a glimpse of one woman laughing with Ketrim next to a pair of mules she was leading. Laughing! With Ketrim! It seemed preposterous but there was the evidence right before Lana’s eyes. When the woman walked off with her mules, she left a smiling Ketrim in her wake. These strange people certainly possessed strange powers if they could get a smile from the stiff lord.

On first glance, these people looked no different than the commoners Lana had seen around Maerin for her whole life. Hair ranging from blond to brown —though mostly the light brown she associated with northerners— and pale features compared to the old blood, would not have been out of place in the city but something about the sharpness of their features did not fit with any people Lana had seen. It was not an extreme difference but once she noticed, it was easy to pick out. High cheekbones and prominent noses were common and eyes of rich brown like freshly turned soil as opposed to the greens and blues of Maerinen commoners. When the young man stopped by the fire to collect the coal, he turned to smile good-naturedly at Lana and she caught a glimpse of those eyes. Deep brown but speckled with glittering gold as they reflected the sunlight. Lana had to stop herself from audibly gasping. The man chuckled at her perplexion and sauntered off to attend to something or other at one of the wagons, leaving Lana with that one brief glimpse. She had never seen eyes such as his before. They were fascinating. She found herself dwelling on them long enough to make her blush faintly.

After the first left, another man came by the remains of the fire carrying a bundle of spears. Lana thought he was the guard she had seen before but she could not be sure. In daylight he looked a good deal more threatening with thick arms corded with muscle and a tidy collection of scars. He wore a short beard unlike the rest of the men from the caravan. It highlighted the wide scar that stood out prominently on one cheek, cutting a trough through the beard even more noticeable because of the pale flesh beneath. He handed both Lana and Jormand spears before moving on. He too smiled at them in a friendly way and also had those glittering eyes that Lana peered into for the moment he was there. Such a strange thing to capture her attention so. It was not the variation that held her interest, brown eyes were prized by the old blood as signs of purity and she had seen enough of them to not be surprised by the color, it was those specks of sparkling light within, it was difficult to put them out of her mind.

The spears that she and Jormand had been handed were familiar enough even though Lana had never handled one herself before. They were simple tools with none of the ornamentation that she had seen on the weapons belonging to the wealthy in Maerin. They were shorter than those as well. Tthe spearhead was still a good distance over her head anyway. Jormand gave his spear a look over before leaning it against his shoulder and planting his elbows on his knees again. He was satisfied with it so Lana supposed she should be too. She pretended to inspect the weapon for a little while longer, happy to have something to do. She hoped that she would not have to use it, she did not know the first thing about spear fighting. Well, aside from the obvious. The broad, leaf shaped spearhead looked like it could do some serious damage even in the hands of someone as unskilled as she.

The caravan looked about ready to leave by the time that Jormand ended his long silence. The warhorse was hitched to the small wagon, looking even more massive compared to the mules in their harnesses, and the house-wagons were slowly trundling towards the road, leaving deep depressions from where the wheels had sat in the damp soil.

He turned his head to her, chin resting on the palm of one hand and wearing a pleasant smile, a surprise to be sure. It did not match everything else about him, the worn, dirty clothes and visible injuries but Lana smiled in return, something about it told her that it was meant for her. When he spoke, his voice was out of place too.

“I want to thank you, Lana,” He said in a voice not meant to carry far. “For yesterday, for the blanket.” He grinned and his cheeks reddened a little.

Lana understood what he meant and placed a hand on his knee. He didn’t have to say any more. He smiled gratefully, still holding her eyes with his gaze. She had never really noticed before but in his eyes, mixed with the dark green, were a few of those specks of color, like flakes of gold reflecting the light, like the men from the caravan. Come to think of it, she saw a little of the sharpness too. His nose had surely been broken before but it was there, if hard to find, and in his cheekbones and his brow. The sunlight filtering through the canopy marked his face out clearly in smooth light and shadow and Lana could feel heat rising in her cheeks. She tore her gaze away from his and pulled back her hand, resting it on the haft of her spear. Behind them she could hear approaching steps. It was Gisela, who gave her that same mischievous grin from the night before as she approached.

“We’re leaving.” She said just a little loud and jarringly. Jormand stood up first, leaning on his spear and Lana followed. She thought she heard him mutter something under his breath as he did but it was covered by his footsteps. The tall length of wood looked much smaller in Jormand’s hand even though the point was lofted above his head too. Lana’s spear made her feel diminutive by comparison. Gisela carried one too, as well as her bow slung across her back. They were meant to be guards after all.

“Best be moving, we don’t want to be left behind.” Gisela said, beckoning for Lana to follow. Jormand strode off ahead of them towards their wagon where one of the strangers had taken the reins and Elyas was lecturing with his own spear leaning on his shoulder. The grizzled soldier could not help from lecturing. After all, he did know more about what he did than most. He did not mean to be abrasive, the poor lad he’d targeted this time did not seem to realize it though.

As they walked to join the others, Gisela elbowed Lana gently in the shoulder and nodded towards Jormand’s back, that grin still on her face.

“Strange man, isn’t he.” She said.

Lana nodded, looking after him as he walked away. Strange. A fitting description.