Companions. So very welcome, and yet he'll plunge a knife into his hand before he admits it. The fire-haired beauty and the old guy. Well, wizard, not just a guy. He made sure to give the man some good-natured ribbing for traveling with two younger, faster, sprier combatants. 

A good knife through from the dark could disable them both. No armor on the wizard- next to no armor on the warrior. Maybe he should teach them some things about reacting? They were his companions, and he was sort of the safest of them all. He was always in the shadows, unless he decided to walk with them. Slept in the trees; they slept on the ground next to their beacon, their fire. Fire's good and all, but it's bright and attracts attention.

Was he being too paranoid? Probably. He wondered if the girl could use that knife of hers. Probably not, at least in comparison to him. The wizard... is there a poison that suppresses magical abilities? He hoped not. He wasn't too terribly fast, not for a trained warrior. A little cut might make him useless. But then again, a fireball is terribly painful, from what he's seen. 

His thoughts drifted as they did now for the duration of his watch.

[center]+}--{+[/center]

He balanced on his branch, not needing to take care of a blanket because he didn't have one. The others were shifting, about to wake, and he hopped of his branch in anticipation of the day ahead. A light, [i]thud[/i] sounded his presence to the earth, but it was low enough to keep from disturbing the birds in the tree over. As usual, he waited for his companions to open their eyes and start stretching, before he stalked out of the receding darkness with the confidence of a cat, and with the grace of one. Smooth, slow, and yet also moving faster than expected, no energy wasted.

Well, maybe a little wasted. But he had to keep appearances up. None of them had seen his face yet; neither of them had asked. He was the assassin in this stereotypical group, and he had to be as such.