As Crow made his way back to the village, he noticed something seemed off. The battle had ended, but there were still Younisians in the area. He took cover behind a house, watching the foreign knights cautiously. It seemed they had won this time and had moved their barracks forward to claim the territory for themselves. What that meant for the villagers though, he couldn’t yet say. He just hoped the Younisians would be merciful to them so they wouldn’t have to leave their homes and move to a new village.

Having nothing more to do with Grimsby, Crow left and headed back to the thieves’ camp, hoping he would find his companions there. He made the trek alone, taking the time to look over his injuries. Fortunately, none of them seemed too serious. The stab wound in his arm was the worst of them all, but he was still able to move his wrist and hand just fine, so he assumed it would heal as long as he took care of it.

As he examined the gash in his forearm, he thought again about how he had struck Penelope with his dagger, and he cringed. He still couldn’t believe that had happened. She was the last person he would ever want to hurt, and yet he had stabbed her in the shoulder. Now that the chaos of the battle was over, he regretted leaving her behind as well. He should have stayed to apologize at the very least. Instead, he had turned tail and fled like a coward, afraid to own up to what he had done.

Crow sighed, running his hand through his hair in frustration. He was supposed to meet up with Penelope again in two days, but he didn’t know if he could face her after what had happened. He didn’t want to see that look again—that expression of hurt that he had caused. She had every right to be upset with him, but he was already ashamed of himself as it was. He didn’t need her to remind him of how badly he had messed up. The guilt on his heart was more than enough for that.

When he reached the camp, he was relieved to see both Alistair and Simon had made it back and were being treated by the peasants for their injuries. He walked over to join them, and Alistair looked up at him.

“Oh good,” the thief sighed. “You’re alive.” He took on a quizzical look as he went on, “Where did you go? You’ve been missing for so long, we thought you got killed.”

“Clearly I’m not dead,” Crow sat down heavily next to Alistair, exhausted both physically and emotionally from the battle. “One of the Younisians managed to get farther into the village, so I had to chase him,” he lied with a shrug, not wanting to tell the others the truth about his fainting spell. “He was skilled, so it took a while to take him down.”

“Well, you’re here now,” Simon said as he watched a peasant woman bandage his arm. “That’s all that matters.”

Crow nodded solemnly. Soon, another villager approached him and began to tend to his injuries as well. He sat in silence as she worked on cleaning and bandaging his wounds, his thoughts wandering back to Penelope again. He couldn’t get her out of his head. The image of her stern and distant face was burned into his mind, and it pained him. He was beginning to wonder if he should even go to their arranged meeting in Myrefall. There was a good chance she wouldn’t show up anyway after what he had done to her. Even if she did, would she want to see him? Perhaps it would be best for both of them if he stopped seeing her.

[i]I’ll decide when the time comes,[/i] he thought. [i]In two days, I’ll decide if I’m going to continue to meet with her or not.[/i]