Raquelle smiled sweetly, and she reached over and rubbed the prince's back. "It'll be all right," she said soothingly, as if speaking to a child. "We'll find her. If my dear sister is alive, we'll find her and rescue her. You and me. Everything will be all right."

She continued riding beside him as long and as far as they went, quite pleased with herself for being the shoulder Liam had to cry on. If she had to, she would [i]make[/i] him cry. Tears of sorrow for the loss of Dorothea!

---

Having that gag out was the greatest relief. August coughed raggedly, and he remained calm, quiet and compliant as long as Sam was the one taking charge of him. He gave [i]her[/i] no fuss and no trouble, not even a glare; he kept his eyes closed or on the ground, his anger deflated into exhaustion. She was trusting him, he understood that -- he had to respect her enough to trust her in return.

Alphonse watched the Marshal carefully, and only with a knife in one hand did he help to pull away the last of the ropes -- but as long as their prisoner was calm, he wouldn't say anything that might instigate a fight.

August leaned heavily on Sam, and his legs shook for the first few steps, until he could walk more readily. His shirt was caked in dry blood, and the gash from the Jockal's claw was raw and ragged. Sam made a comment on his stench, and he laughed under his breath. "You don't exactly smell like roses either," he breathed with a smirk.

He looked to the dwarf. "I need bandages," he said in a cracked voice, this time addressing Alphonse with a cool glare. The dwarf hesitated for awhile, reluctant to leave Sam without protection, but finally he bustled off to retrieve medical supplies.

Upon Sam's urging, Dorothea stretched, yawned, and opened her amber eyes -- then jumped sky-high when she saw the Marshal standing so close. "Sam! What are you doing? What's going on? Are you all right? Why is he here?"

Alphonse pushed his way in with a medical kit. "Okay, ladies -- sorry, Princess -- if you could please vacate the tent for awhile, the Marshal here would like to wash up and change before we leave --"

"Who's leaving?" Dorothea stuttered. "Him? Sam? What's going on? Why is he not tied up? Marshal, get your hands off her."

By this time, August had found his own footing, and he casually released Sam from his touch and strode into the tent, much to Dorothea's hackled displeasure.

Alphonse somehow managed to shoo the cat and Sam out of the tent, just as Florian arrived with a bucket of water and a bar of soap. The two dwarves remained inside to guard the Marshal with long knives pointed at him, and they closed the tent flaps behind them.

Dorothea sat on the ground and stared up at Sam, expecting a very good explanation for the danger she was sure they were all in.