“Sure, let’s make the damned caravan move now,” Werond grumbled, pulling the thin sheet of silk tighter around her body. “wake the damned teamsters up now, of all times.” She peered at the still dark horizon. “Who the fuck gets up this early?”

One more day until they were away from the Misty Woods. One more day until they reached Daggerford. One more day until they could sleep in a real bed again.

At least, that’s what Pavel had said when he had gathered every teamster together the previous night and laid out that his plan to them. Just a bit further, he’d said, and they’d be home free all the way to Daggerford. It made sense then – to him, to everyone – to shove off early in the morning, giving them a head start past all the horrors that lurked within the woods.

No one had bothered to ask what early looked like to Pavel.

“I get it, I do,” Werond continued grumbling to herself. “but this early? Gods, Pavel, no one’s ever awake at this hour…maybe just you, you prick.” She glanced at the dark stretch of trees to her right. “I bet there’s nothing even in those damned trees, you absolute –”

Werond jumped as the flaps behind her flung open; Serena – wrapped similarly in her own silks – crawled over the backrest and plopped herself down in the bench.

“Gods boss,” Werond said. “scared the Nine Hells out of me.”

Serena replied, but in the dark, Werond could barely make out the signs; the voice in her heard came out faint, barely a whisper.

“Can’t see boss.” She said.

Serena’s head jerked back, a small O on her lips. With a quick flick of her wrist, a dull blue light appeared in the space between them, illuminating Serena’s hands.

“Uhm,” Serena signed with one hand, stifling a silent yawn with another. “sorry. And sorry…for scaring you.”

“S’all good, just…grumbling about things I shouldn’t be.” Werond grinned. “Probably fire me if you heard it.”

“I wouldn’t.”

“Ah.”

Silence lapsed between the two, thicker than the early morning fog that filled the trees.

After a moment, Werond turned and looked at her boss.

“So, what brings you up here at this hour?”

Serena fidgeted on the bench. She pulled the silk over her head and hid her face from Werond.

“I can’t keep you company?” She signed straight ahead. “Especially when it’s this early?”

“You can, and I’m grateful for it.” Werond cocked her head. “But you haven’t talked to me for two days. Longest that’s been. What’s up boss, something wrong?”

Serena remained still, hands in her lap, gaze on the wagon in front of them. Or the still dark horizon. Werond couldn’t tell.

Her hands began twitching, bouncing on her knees. Werond remained silent, knowing that this was one of those rare moments where Serena couldn’t find her words.

Perhaps rare wasn’t the right term for it anymore. Since the night Werond had combed out her hair, Serena had clammed up around her. A stark comparison to how she normally was; had Werond thrown a single word towards her, Serena would talk – sign – her ear off. But now, she couldn’t get more than three sentences out of her.

Werond knew why. Part of her was upset at herself. Perhaps she had gone too far that night with Serena. Perhaps she wasn’t the person Werond believed her to be. Which, she knew, wasn’t terrible. But the thought of missing out, on so much, made her heart ache.

Inwardly, she shrugged. That was life, she supposed. Nothing but missed connections.

“I…” Her attention snapped back to Serena. “I just was…thinking. Getting some things…straight in my head. I guess.”

“Oh,” Werond said. “about what? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“I do.”

“Okay. All good. I hope you got everything figured out.”

Serena turned towards Werond.

Her face was red, not the hard red as before, but softer this time – a rose under the pale moonlight. With soft eyes, she gazed at Werond a familiar gaze, one that she had only seen scarce few times in her life.

“I think I did.” Her silvery voice seemed to pull Werond in. “But…I’ll tell you later. I want to let it sit and…be sure about it.”

Werond nodded; the silk wrapped about her had become too warm, and she hoped that her own redness wasn’t apparent.

“I didn’t mean to be so quiet around you,” Serena continued; she paused to pull the silks tighter around her body; Werond forced her gaze away from the figure now revealed against the taunt fabric. “Just…sorry Werond. I hope you’re not mad at me.”

“Oh!” Werond’s voice cracked as she waved a hand about. “No, no, not at all, no need to apologize. I could never be mad at you darling.”

Serena’s blush deepened before she turned away.

Her hands leapt to her hair, and she became slowly stroking the length that lay against her chest.

Werond turned away as well; there were no thoughts in her mind, save one. And she could not pursue it this early.

Or anytime soon, should they remain on the caravan for long.

But when then?

Daggerford, perhaps?

She reached out – brushing Serena’s back – and laid an arm across the backrest of the bench.

Without a word – without a look – Serena straightened, and leaned slightly against her arm.

Werond grinned, just as the sun began to peak over the horizon.