[center][b][u]The Next Morning[/b][/u][/center]

Trying to sleep had been hectic. Snores slipped through nooks and crannies in the walls, depriving her of a good night’s sleep. Not to mention that she had been thinking about Helena, recently. [i]Oh, Helena. If I had died instead of you, it would have been so much better for the Shepherds…[/i] the thought frequently crossed her mind as she laid in the creaky old bed, staring at the shadowy walls of the room. The night air nipping at her skin made it worse. Goose bumps rose up, and she had no other way to warm herself up other than a thin, stained sheet that used to be white.

When she woke up, she packed her things and walked down the stairs. She advised that everyone get something warm in their stomachs, and that they should move out immediately after. She had not seen Zaino, but she knew that he would not leave from there. Not without something important to him. Ambra felt dirty for stealing things, but a man that had sustained as many wounds as him should not leave their group. Even if it had been a woman, she would have done the same. The red haired woman looked around the main floor, watching everyone gather their things and begin to pay the innkeeper for their night’s stay.

Nestled safely in her satchel was Zaino’s bloodied, worn shirt. Taking it off of him had been a hassle, because she did not want him to wake up and see her undressing him. Yet, it had been worth it. She was pretty sure that he would not leave the inn without all of his clothes. She [i]should[/i] have taken something else other than his shirt. Yet, how was she going to conceal his sword? Not to mention that it might be so important to him that he would slit her throat when he found out.

A loud laugh to her right made Ambra glance over at a pale haired, rosy faced lady that she quickly recognized as that Wyvern Lord. She had been rutting around with that Knight a few hours ago, and already she was getting drunk. She was actually sitting on another man’s lap, straddling him with her arms, but she didn’t get a good look at his face to determine who exactly he was. How she could act like that all of the time, she didn’t know, and she didn’t want to find out. How she could ride or guide her wyvern or walk, she didn’t know that either. [i]Such a loud woman. If I ever act like that, someone should give me a good smack on my head.[/i]

“Loud, isn’t it?”

Ambra glanced up to see a man, wrapped in bandages and as bald as… well… she didn’t know what to compare him to other than a mummified mage. The Musician groaned as he walked up to her, placing a hand on her shoulder for support. She winced as she expected a heavy weight upon it, but he was surprisingly light. [b]”Hello… my name’s Ambra.”[/b] she greeted, nodding her head. [b]”Nice to meet you.”[/b]

“Name’s Talbot. You can call me Tal, if you want.” The musician glanced over at her. “That girl wants to learn from you, you know. The thief.”

Ambra narrowed her eyes, but Talbot raised a hand. “Don’t object. She has a spark in her, Ambra. And you keep on smothering that spark in hopes of it dying. Yet, that spark has grown into an ember, and then a flame. Every time you attempt to smother it with the heel of your boot, it will grow larger and larger. It is a fire you cannot put out.”

[b]”So, what you’re telling me is that I should teach this untrustworthy woman so she could become deadlier?”[/b] Ambra asked.

“Think about it, Ambra. Even if she does turn on us, can a measly thief get very far after she has harmed one of us?” Talbot patted her on the shoulder, and turned away, limping to the innkeeper and ordering a bowl of soup. The red haired woman was left standing there, confused. 

[i]Should I..?[/i]