Camilla sat atop one of the wagon near Cydric, stifling a curse each time the wagon struck a rut or a hole in the trail. As far as Camilla could tell it was mostly ruts and holes, certainly that was the message her rump wished to convey. Despite her early optimism she had misgivings about the whole adventure from the beginning. Leaving Middenheim had been a relief and the fact that she could use her own name even more so. It felt like her mouth was half cramped from trying to sound like a Brettonian for so long and it was a joy to let her Tilean accent slip back into her speech. They had been farewelled by the Witch Hunter Von Koneinswald, who had cogratulated them on their victory and provided them with a letter that recommended other followers of Sigmar help them if they could. He had cautioned however that while all Templar's are brothers, not all brothers see eye to eye, which seemed cryptic and not particularly helpful.

The rest of the patrol were also a problem, at least for her. The men invariably looked upon her like a particularly tasty rabbit which had fallen into their laps, the gaunt Captain viewed her as a dangerous distraction and the Warrior Priest seemed to look on her as somewhere between an ill omen from the Gods and a temptation to the men. Suffice to say she rode on the wagon and stayed out of the way as best she could. 

Cydric at least seemed to be in his element, she wished there had been more time to talk before they left Middenheim but there had hardly been time to snatch up their possessions and rush down the mountain to join the convoy. She had taken the time to re wrap her sword and change into her travelling clothes. The leather vest, white shirt and comfortable boots a relief after that damned dress. She had tucked there jewels and coins away as best she could in various seams and pockets. 

Still it might not have been such an unpleasant ride if not for the mist. It soaked everything with just enough water to dampen it. Fires were hard to start for cooking and clothing was impossible to get dry. Worse it seemed to quiet the forest to an unnatural degree, like a blanket or a shroud. Camilla was no woodsman but even she found the lack of birdsong and forest animals to be oppressive.

[b]"Halt!"[/b] the captain called from the front of the column and with a rattle of axles and a clatter of weapons and armor the column stumbled to a halt. It was time for the midday meal, although how anyone could tell that was beyond Camilla. Gracefully she slipped from the wagon and headed across to Cydric, ignoring the soldiers following eyes as best she could.

[b]"Eerie,"[/b] she remarked, peering out into the forest. She was glad they had collected enough firewood the previous day and wouldn't have to range out into the curtain of mist.


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