Even with all of the preparations that had to be done, the band of criminals managed to get ready for their trip to Black Hollow by midday. Hazel, being quite familiar with the recipe for Crow’s permanent medicine by now, made quick work of the poultice and returned to them with plenty of time to spare. When she got back, the others filled her in on the fake update he had given them. Naturally, she was on board with anything that could lead to the capture—or perhaps death, he suspected—of Simon’s killer, and agreed to join the search as well. Her eagerness made Crow feel guilty for sending them after yet another dead-end lead, but he kept a neutral expression as he picked up his bag to leave with the rest.

Once everyone was ready to go, they headed out, covering ground quickly in their enthusiasm to stop Jaxon before he could ‘get away again.’ Of course, in spite of their focus to catch the murderer, they remained alert and kept a wide berth of the knights’ camp, since they knew the nobles were probably still hunting for them as they were the only known group of thieves in the area. The detour towards Whitebridge cost them some time, but they still found a place to set up camp that was within a day’s walk from Black Hollow. All in all, they were making great time.

It was sunset by the time they stopped on the east side of Whitebridge. Alistair, who had brought along extra weaponry in case they ended up confronting the other thieves, collapsed tiredly against a tree while Crow and Rikki worked on building a fire, and Hazel sorted through some ingredients to prepare dinner. Having grown used to the routine of setting up camp after traveling so much, it didn’t take long before they had a comfortable arrangement.

When the fire was burning steadily, Rikki joined Alistair off to the side of the clearing to recline and converse casually with her friend while Crow joined Hazel in preparing their food for the night. Usually, he didn’t bother with preparing meals, since he wasn’t the most skilled at cooking amongst his companions—he only knew how to make simple dishes common to peasants, while Alistair was the best at using the finer ingredients they stole from the knights—but, still feeling guilty about Simon’s death, he wanted to try and spend more time with the now-widowed herbalist.

“So, what are we making?” he asked, casting her a friendly smile as he sat down at her side.

Hazel just glanced at him before returning to cutting up the potato in her hands. “I know what you’re doing,” she muttered without looking up again. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m some fragile little flower. Go and join your friends. I can take care of this on my own.”

Crow rolled his eyes. “I’m just offering my company,” he said, stretching out his legs in a more comfortable posture. “You don’t have to be so defensive. But fine,” he leaned over to nudge her with his shoulder. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll just sit here and criticize the terrible way you’re dicing those vegetables.”

Hazel snorted in response, but he saw the corner of her lip turn up in a faint smile. “Right, because you’re the expert on cutting vegetables,” she said sarcastically. “I must have forgotten.”

“I’ll forgive you this once,” he shrugged airily. “But I can’t forgive your sloppy prep work. Sorry, love, but that’s amateur stuff.”

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Hazel shoved him roughly, averting her gaze to try and hide the smirk on her face. “You know what? If you think you’re so good at it, then here.” She picked up another knife and potato and held them out to him. “Dice your own damn potatoes.”

“Alright, I will,” Crow grinned as he took them from her, feeling pleased that he had managed to lift her spirits some.

Now that Hazel had accepted his company, the two lapsed into comfortable conversation as they worked on making supper for the group.