Drust bristled slightly. Though he could barely begin to fathom exactly what ran through Ghent’s mind, the plethora of unending questions still radiating from the boy were neigh palpable.
	Drust grunted in response when Ghent resigned himself to postponing further questioning. He checked that his katana rested in quick reach, then, with the gentle rustle of grass and clothes, readjusted and laid down.
	He stared at the flames for a long moment, hesitant to let down his guard with such fresh blood keeping watch. His head twitched slightly, the Curse latching on to the distrust.
	Drust grit his teeth. He [i]had[/i] to believe Ghent would do well enough. Sometimes, fear had its advantages; the boy was jumpy and tense, making him that much more attentive and ready to wake his companions.
	With a heavy sigh, Drust forced himself to close his eyes. He fell quickly into his usual light sleep, a part of him ever ready to jump to alertness at the slightest provocation.

[center][img]https://i.imgur.com/olp6rXf.png?1[/img][/center]
[center][h2]Hollow Forest—A Safe Zone[/h2][h3]Around 6:00 AM[/h3][/center]

	Elayra didn't need the OmniChrono to know when the sun began to rise on Hollow Forest. The muffled sounds of the ghosts beyond the Safe Zone stilled. An eerie, still silence settled back over the woods.
	As Drust—and the Chrono—had predicted, fog had rolled in during her watch. It hung thickly in the slowly lightening woods, yet it didn't dare fully enter the Safe Zone. Tendrils of silvery-white mist licked at the grass around the clearing. They stretched out only to recoil, slinking back like an impatient child’s hand after a whacking from a cook’s spoon. It brought with it a pleasantly sweet, yet damp smell somewhere between rain and autumn decay. It fought with the lingering scent of the campfire. 
	Elayra stood near the fire, watching the dying embers fight for life. The remaining light glinted on the blue blade of the saber held leisurely at her side. A worn leather tie kept her hair pulled back in a messy ponytail, the platinum strands recently freed of larger debris and tangles. 
	She had woken up feeling more refreshed than she had in ages. Better, even, than she had a right to feel after all the physical and mental labor of the last couple days.
	She scratched absently at the part of the scab spiking beneath her left eye—or, rather, the slight indentation the King’s Curative had turned it into. The fresh, pink skin stood out even amidst the thin layer of grime that had begun to make its home on her.
	She transferred her sword to her left hand, then retrieved the OmniChrono from the pouch at her belt. Paying its appearance no mind, she popped it open and checked the time. As she watched, the bottommost silvery hand met the line marking the end of her watch. With a sigh, she snapped it closed. She replaced it in her pouch, then returned her sword to her dominant hand.
	She glanced out to the trees, giving the immediate forest one last visual sweep. Only the fog moved between the faint ghosts of trees. It swirled about, bound by its own, unusual laws. It created the occasional clear path, allowing a bit of warm morning light through, before flooding down in tumbling waves to refill it.
	With a shiver from the air’s chill, she sheathed her sword as quietly as she could. She grabbed her cloak from where she had left it near the fire, then stepped to wake Drust. 
	The Knight shifted as she stopped near him.
	“I’m awake, girl,” he muttered just loud enough for her to hear. 
	[i]Of course you are,[/i] she thought with a quiet sigh.
	He sat up as she opened her mouth to ask if he had even slept, but he interrupted her.
	“The curative did its job?” he asked in his usual monotone, kneeling and reaching for his pack-turned-pillow. 
	“And then some.” Elayra draped the cloak over her shoulders. The fabric retained some of the heat of the fire. She drew the tattered, dirt-stained garment closed, relishing the extra warmth for as long as it lasted.
	Drust gave a stiff nod and reached inside his pack. “Wake him.” He jerked his head toward Ghent. “We’re wasting daylight.”
	She nodded, then approached Ghent. He slept soundly, looking more like a log than a person wrapped beneath Drust’s cloak.
	Unsure how he’d react to being woken, she crouched down so Ghent laid just within her reach. She stretched out her arm, but paused. The temptation to ‘test’ how quickly he’d wake up in the event of an emergency settled over her.
	A sly grin spread over her face. She inhaled and leaned forward, ready to whisper an alarmed wake-up call. But at the last moment, Drust's movements across the dying embers caught her eye. 
	She glanced to him as the Knight pulled his cloth-wrapped bundle of toatunt jerky from his pack. She squinted slightly as she did her best to gauge his mood in the dim gray lighting. He looked no more dour than normal, the dark lines spreading from the corners of his eyes little more than short, thin veins.
	Even so, with a remorseful sigh, she decided it best not to stir the waters this early. Especially with the length of Hollow Forest stretching before them.
	[i]There's always tomorrow,[/i] she thought, frowning, trying to banish the regret.
	“Breakfast time, Featherhead!” she said, shaking his shoulder and hoping the promise of food would be enough to break through his sleep.