Crow laughed at Penelope’s suggestion, “I like the way you think. I’ve never actually tried a tactic like that before, so it should be fun to see how it goes.” He glanced back towards the entrance of the tent, where Gavin was supposedly waiting for them to come out. “I don’t have any fire steel on me, so we’ll have to figure out how to get some in order to light the sticks, though…” He paused for a moment and then looked back at the knight, his eyes falling on her bandaged shoulder before he met her gaze, “Actually, I do have one idea. But first, let’s go get the wood.”

Crow stooped down to draw the dagger from his boot and then stepped over to the back wall of the tent. He stabbed the blade through the thin fabric at about chest-height and slashed downwards, cutting an opening just big enough for him to fit through. The thief paused, glancing back at the front of the tent to see if Gavin had noticed the sound of the tearing. When nothing happened he waved a hand for Penelope to follow him and slipped out through the back, hurrying to the tree line before any guards could have a chance to see him in the open.

“Look for the driest wood you can find,” Crow said quietly once he and the knight were both out of sight from the camp. “We need something that will catch fast or the plan won’t work. Meet me back here when you’re done.” That being said, he began to follow his own advice, searching the forest floor for dry sticks of wood. After a bit of looking, he found the perfect candidate: a long, brittle stick that he could use as a torch. Satisfied with his finding, the thief returned to their designated meeting point, where he waited for Penelope to return.