Elayra watched Ghent as he took the lead. Though she was sure she could have remembered—or at least figured out—where the two places were, she was glad for someone more sure-footed in the matter, and even more glad for the momentary silence that fell between them.
	With him in front of her, Elayra walking just to his side to be capable of seeing the road ahead, her eyes strayed to him, wondering and thinking of the magic-less life he was about to leave behind. Her focus settled once more on his rather dreary physical state. Magic-less. It was one of the many things that had haunted her while trying to sleep; what if Ghent really [i]could not[/i] use magic, here or in Wonderland? 
	She jumped slightly and turned toward part of the dwindling trees as something rustled in the bushes, a hand going to the sword at her belt, but whatever had caused the disturbance made no further appearance.
	Her attention turned again to Ghent when he spoke.
	She snorted. “If you know the answer, then why waste your breath? Worry about your pack, I’ll worry about mine.” All the same, she readjusted it again, scowling as it rubbed against the bruise, but too proud to let someone else carry it.
	She glanced up to the barrier—a sheet of what looked like displaced, shimmering air splattered with raindrops—to the dark, cloud-covered sky, trying to guess by the lightness of the gray blanket whether or not the sun was rising behind it, then to Ghent.
	Elayra remained ever diligent, her eyes flicking from one shadow to the next. Her gaze paused on a pavilion off to the side, just outside the reach of one of the streetlights.
	She transferred her bow from the left hand to the right. “We’re making a short stop.” She gripped Ghent’s wrist and pulled him toward the pavilion. She had to know if he could use magic. Or, at the very least, [i]feel[/i] it. After all, everything was riding on that assumption. 
	Should he not resist, Elayra stopped just inside the pavilion where the concrete remained dry. Releasing Ghent, she placed a few feet between them, giving the picnic tables crowded around them a wary glance, checking for any signs of danger.
	Satisfied, she turned back to Ghent, leaned her bow against one of the tables, and crossed her arms. “Close your eyes.”