Blackout 
West Point
Rider is surprised. She smirks back and leans, propping herself up on an elbow. 
"You mean to tell me. That there is an trans dimensional pocket orgy going on in my lands, and I wasn't invited?" Rider scoffs insincerely and slides off Chron pulling her pack down with her. "And you think [i]I'm[/i] rude. Well don't rush on account of me. I'l be waiting here for you to finish." Rider goes about setting up camp. Chron helps as he can. Every so often Rider looks at the spot where Chron sensed spatial distortion. She sighs and keeps her black powder rifle slung over her shoulder.