“Oh sorry, I must have misunderstood,” Crow rolled his eyes at Penelope’s jibe. “You should be more clear with your instructions, love.” Even though he teased her, he was relieved to see that the knight had escaped from the nobles without any more injuries. The feeling surprised him. He never expected to care this much about any of his forced companions’ wellbeing. Sure, he and Penelope had come to a mutual understanding about the terms of their mission, but he didn’t think the bond ran any deeper than that. The unprompted concern he felt for her safety led him to wonder just how close they had become over the last few days. Did she care about what happened to him, too? He eyed her curiously as they walked. It was difficult to tell. She was always so reserved and hard to read, but perhaps he could try to test her somehow.

As they continued to navigate their way back to the village, Crow slowly built a limp into his gait, favoring his left leg like it was injured. He trailed slightly behind Penelope and took on a focused expression as if walking pained him. After about a minute of this, he stopped and leaned against a tree—he angled his body carefully so as not to rub his real burn wounds against the bark—and spoke up to get the knight’s attention, “Hold on; I need a break.”

It wasn’t that challenging to look exhausted. Crow really was tired after his grand escape from the nobles, but he could have made the trip back to the village if he pushed himself. He just wanted to find out for sure whether or not his comradery with Penelope was one-sided. After all, he didn’t want to reveal his own concern for her if she still looked at him like a common criminal. He was guarded about his thoughts just like she was.