Jem’s brow climbed up slowly, amused. Didn’t say a thing. Corner of his mouth still twitched – which, for someone like him, may have well been a moment of sheer hysteria. Elum were about things in common, after all. It was only right he’d united the two girls before a shared enemy. Only question was whether it was him…or chickens.

Vyn talked through the chew. Spoons both filling and spilling. “Mmm. Y’know, if it’d been just one rider – my ass would’ve frozen clean off.” Grin leaked broth and spirit. “Saved me a cheek. Maybe two.” Tapped the spoon to her horns. “Unicorn I could work with…Unicheek’s a much tougher sell.”

She leaned into the arm draped about her shoulders like it was the most normal thing. No need for a fuss. Just let the warmth happen.

And while Xen cradled her shoulder, Vyn ladled more soup. You snooze, you lose.
 
A tough nut to crack, was Jem. The silent, mysterious types usually were. Still, the ghost of a smile was better than no smile at all; Xen would take what she could get when dealing with the stoic. 'Oh, aye!' She agreed, wrestling with her bowl and spoon, an arm still draped over Vyn's shoulders. 'Didn't seem to matter none that I was sat on her tail for most of the journey.' An exaggeration, that.

Vyn had cottoned on quick. A couple days, plus a few. In the end, she'd chosen the cold over a stranger's weight.

Xenovia wasn't sure whether to feel insulted or not. Either way she eased off on the broth, fully-devouring a second helping before placing her bowl down. For someone so small, Vyn certainly took a lot of feeding. Even the nag ate less than her, though, only because they lacked enough forage for the poor beast.

'Say, Jem, how much longer will it take us to catch up with the rest of the Elum?' Xen asked, staring at him from across the flames. 'They can't be that far away, surely! Only, Myrtle over there needs feedin' too.' Then, in a much quieter voice; 'It's tough getting any sleep, what with Vyn's snoring. Could wake the dead, so she could.'
 
“Myrtle, is it?” Jem sipped from the ladle, happy with his work. He looked down at Vyn, but she just shrugged. Good a name as any. Besides – if Xen was to be one of them, she needed to name things here and there. Might as well start with the unfortunate nag.

“Oi – if my snoring wakes you, you’re just not tired enough.” Vyn elbowed the other woman to make her point. Besides, it wasn’t Vyn’s dreams that woke them up at night. More than once.

“Shouldn’t be more than a day, maybe two.” Jem wasn’t certain, but it made sense. Elum were not known for speed. The three of them could likely triple their pace on a good day. And it was just shy of four days since the Wagons passed.

“Don’t worry, Xen.” As if Vyn wasn’t the one that worried. “We’ll get ‘em.”
 
She made it sound like a threat. 'We will, will we?' Grinning, Xen nodded, yes. It will be nice, finally putting faces to names. Xen had been full of questions on the ride south. About life amongst the Elum, how they operated, who was who and what was what and why Vyn hesitated so much to name, well, anything!

'Thought callin' her Nag the nag was a bit, um, on the nose,' she said, tapping her own for emphasis. 'Besides, when I was really young, we had a dog called Myrtle. Big, shaggy thing. Ate lots, he did.' This time she flicked Vyn on the nose.

'I used to ride him around the Sink with the other kids. Sometimes they'd throw stones at me 'cause they were jealous. Or maybe just because they wanted to?'

Scritching her chin, Xen shrugged, let the matter slip through her fingers like sand through a hourglass.

'How long have you been with the Wagons, Jem?' Xen asked kindly, having grown tired of yapping about herself. 'I asked Vyn about you, but I couldn't get a straight answer through all the gushing she did. Almost like you're a hero or somethin',' she smirked, tugging her scarf a little higher to hide it.
 
Vyn was about to spoon her right in the eye for the nose bit. But then Jem started talking. And it wasn't something you heard often.

„Since I was your height.“ He laughed at that. A geniune laugh. It wasn't even that funny. „Barely taller than the wheels.“ Whatever his eyes were remembering, he didn't care to share. And then he conspired....against Vyn of all people. Rude.

„And that gushing?“ His face in clear amusement as he looked at Vyn. „You sure it wasn't just steam comin' out her ears?“

Vyn snorted into her bowl, thus concluding the meal. „I'll show you steam.“ Voice attempting angry, as snot hung off her lip. But she didn't rise to it. Couldn't, not when he was having fun. So she looked down at the given up meal and wondered if giving it to Myrtle would've been rude. She doubted the mare could see snot as anything other than proper seasoning.
 
'Now that you mention it...' Xenovia had yet to witness a wrathful Vyn. Try as she might, it was hard to picture the smaller devahni lashing out in anger. It just didn't suit her the way it did others. Neither did a runny nose, as it happened, but Xen hesitated to lend a helping hand where Vyn's sleeve would do.

'Long time, then.' Turning back to Jem, the redheaded Deva tucked her knees to her chest. Huddled up as the warm-blooded were wont to do when faced with the cold. 'Bet you have some stories to tell.' That seemed to be an Elum thing; telling tales and embellishing. 'It's okay. I won't ask you for any until after we reach the Wagons,' she smiled, her breath turning to mist before their very eyes.

'No more than a day's travel. Maybe two. Plenty of time to pick and choose the best ones, no?' That's what had been promised, and Vyn hadn't let her down yet, though her timing had been a bit out. Why should Jem's? 'Hope your people don't mind my tagging along. It's been a hard winter.' But then most winters tended to be. Few were the exceptions.

'Does your group have a leader?' Xen asked. 'A... elder, I s'pose you'd call them?'
 
Vyn wiped her face and got up. Time to test the Myrtle’s palette. If it made Jem talk more – well, happy accidents. He had been around a long time. Vyn wasn’t sure if she properly remembered a time before Jem. Faces blurred and names bled together. Smudges where people should be. Bah – must be the Road.

The shorter man seemed to catch on, as his eyes followed Vyn. Mouth opened, then closed. No, no – he was the adult here. It only made sense. Because no matter how much she grew, he still saw the kid.

“Three of ‘em.” Appropriate number of fingers shot up on the ladle hand. Like he was telling it to the fire itself. “And then there’s Gordar. So four, I guess.”

He looked at the chilled vagabond and didn’t ask. Couldn’t have been easy, hightailing it with Vyn through the northern midwinter.
 
'You guess?' Xen practised looking perplexed. Nailed it. 'You're not sure?' Gordar. Quite the name for someone who may or may not be a leader. The only one to warrant being mentioned by name, it seemed. The redhead wandered why that might be.

'I guess I'll get to meet 'em soon enough,' she figured, watching Vyn meander through the snow like a circus tumbler way past their prime.

Myrtle the mare met her halfway. Xen didn't know if horses could feel pity. Maybe it was just the hunger driving her.

'Say, Jem?' Xenovia's voice dropped low as the wind rose an octave. 'Don't s'pose there're any merchants among the Elum? Goldsmiths, specifically?' Turning back to the figure hunched over the cookpot, Xen leaned in close, the fire's heat kissing her brow as she glanced left, right. Left again. 'I wanna get Vyn something, y'see, something that says "thank you" in more than just words.'

Tail tucked, the Deva checked to make sure Vyn wasn't sneaking up on them. She was good at that. Better than the fools back in Crown's Hold had been, when they'd-

She blinked, and the memory faded.
 
Of course he was sure. Certainty wasn’t the issue. Gordar just didn’t like being called an Elder. And, technically, he wasn’t. But if you asked any living Elum, they’d count him too. Rightfully so. He just nodded at the rest. Suppose she would meet the Wagons soon. Watched Vyn mess with the horse in the background. Things were returning back to normal. He liked normal.

The next question gave his stir a hiccup. Wasn’t even sure why he still messed with the thing. It was done. But he found the motion soothing. And it allowed him to stay calm where another man may not have been able to.

“Vyn’s not much for trinkets.” Mulled it over. “But she does like gifts.” He knew how unhelpful that sounded. Tried to soften it.

“She’ll like it, long as it means something.”

Problem being, Jem wasn’t all that soft.
 
Xen nodded, more for Jem's sake than her own. 'All gifts given freely do,' she said, trying to decipher the look in his eye. He was a hard read, and not much of a talker. Friendly enough to let a stranger eat from the same pot, though. 'I have some inkling of what I wish to get her. Only, it might be some time before I do.' What few possessions she had possessed upon fleeing Crown's Hold had been spent, or else bartered away. For food, mostly.

Better than sacrificing hers or Vyn's dignity.

Rolling her neck, Xen stretched, forced herself to rise. The firepit was lovely and all, but even she knew it would not be wise to linger overly long, not with potential hunters on her- their trail.

I drew them into this, and yet I still haven't found the courage to tell her the whole truth, thought the devahni, moseying on over to join Vyn and Myrtle the horse. One fed, the other feeding. 'How fares the quickfoot?' She gave Myrtle's muzzle a rub as she nudged the empty bowl, as if asking for seconds and thirds. A horse her size would likely require fourths, too.

'Think she's the strength to... um, carry, us?'
 
“Sure she can.” Vyn spoke with a start. Not like she was afraid of Xen – her nerves were still a bit raw from the day’s upsets. “But she’d rather not.”

Looked down to Xen’s knees, weighing. “You lot have perfectly good legs. And paws or hooves or whatnot. Figured you and Jem would primal up and follow.” Couldn’t be jealousy in her voice. Not Vyn.

“I could scout ahead with Myrtle and carry your stuff as we go.” She didn’t have to check with Jem, the other man may have even preferred traveling that way. Xen was a mystery, though. In all this time on the long way south, she’d yet to see the other woman’s primal form.

“Maybe Myrtle shifts too…” Wouldn’t surprise Vyn. Everyone had one except for her. So why not the fucking mare?

Jem stirred differently now – probably because he was eavesdropping.
 
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'Asked her did you?' Xen had never met anyone that could speak Quickfoot before. Druids were rare where she came from. Nigh-extinct, really. Too much stone and bustle. Shapechangers and devahni were more common, but assuming your primal form in the streets was, uh...

Well, it was bad. Real bad.

'My stuff? Meanin' the three coppers in my purse, one clipped silver and the clothes on my back?' Xenovia didn't have much else to speak of. Most of her belongings had gone South with her parents to pastures greener. Or at least less white.

My primal form. The thought left Xen with a strange taste in her mouth. Something like blood and gristle. Sharp and tangy and foul. At least to a mind capable of reason. And was I reasonable? She wondered, the wind sounding like the screams of recent memory, so full of fear. Her blood ran cold as she heard them again. And again.

'I think I'll walk... yes.' Hugging her arms to her chest, Xen glanced towards the trees, the snow-choked stream they'd followed in. 'Good leather, my boots. Bought 'em shortly before we left.' More like took, but Vyn didn't need to know that.
 
“Sure did.” Vyn always wondered why she didn’t get attached. Most people would’ve named their damn horse by that point. Not her – had to wait for a halfstarved newcomer to do it instead. “Said only an ass carries more than another.” Tsk tsk. “And her horsiness couldn’t have that.”

Had more loaded and ready to go. Xen was good audience to practice on… well, better than Jem. But that was true of most rocks too. Still, beggars couldn’t be choosers. But she could pick up on the unease – probably the same trick Xen pulled to get a story out of her. Because it wasn’t for the stranger’s benefit, not really.

Sadness formed slowly. Storm clouds. But that’s why Wagons had roofs. So she slapped the other woman’s shoulder.

“Worried Jem’ll see your bare ass?” Of course that wasn’t it. But it was harder to mope over a laugh. Jem looking at asses – seemed hilarious to Vyn.
 
'No. Worried I'll startle Myrtle.' It was a genuine concern, but not the real reason. Horses could be skittish, like most people with extra legs. The last thing she wanted to give Vyn was a broken neck, and gravity didn't play favourites. Never had.

'Sides, the way Jem's been stirring that pot, you'd think he'd been hypnotised by the soup.' Xen smirked, toeing a crescent through the snow as she about-faced.

'Easier to bare asses than feelings,' she said, smiling sagely. Looking away, she sighed into the wind, breath freezing in her throat. It was good to have people around who you could trust. In the Sink, true friends were hard to come by. Saviours, even less so. Plenty of liars and thieves, though. And killers.

'I'll walk.' Xen nodded, more to herself than anyone. 'If it gets to be too much, I'll shift.' Seeing as you don't want to. Xen couldn't blame her. Try as she might, you never truly forgot the taste of blood in your mouth.
 
Vyn’s brow shot up faster than she’d intended at that. Scare Myrtle? Same Myrtle that had been around Jem for years? The one that’d seen more primal shifts than even Jem’s worn britches? And there was Vyn too – and she never shifted, obviously – but Xen didn’t know that. But best not to poke the bear… or whatever it was that the other woman shifted into. People had an innate right to be strange.

“Oh Jem’s just eavesdropping.”
“Hearin’s not the same as listening.”
“Yeah yeah.”

Come to think of it, those were nice boots. Made sense if the other woman wanted to hang onto them.

“Sure, you walk. I’ll ride. And Jem’ll… well whatever that’s called.”
 
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