Faye continued to eat, keeping to herself as she enjoyed her soup. When she had finished she dropped off the bowl back at Drina's wagon, then walked towards her own. 
Pulling open the wooden door, the chemical smell of her powders hit her. She scooped up her rifle, feeling the polished wood as she examined the stock and barrel. Satisfied, she swung it around her shoulder as she grabbed her flask and took a swig. The strong alcohol burned her throat, but it was nothing she hadn't gotten used to. Pocketing the flask snuggly in her pants, she once again, left her wagon and sat on the small stool beside it, removing a rag from her toolbox. Faye looked over the rest of the camp, seeing everyone get along, as she began to wipe her rifle.