Arla had scarcely counted to ten before her impatience got the best of her. With a huff, she zipped up her backpack. She straightened and reached for one of the straps to sling it over her shoulder.
	Movement at the back entrance made her release it and crouch back down, ready to flee if Rayth was the one who came through. Her hand went again to her knife’s handle, ready to draw it.
	The girl blinked in surprise as her gaze settled on the ringmistress. Arla was starting to get the feeling Lady Luck was drunk and couldn’t decide whether it was for or against her.
	Leaving her pack at her feet, Arla straightened and released her knife.
	“Frieda,” she called as the woman’s gaze found her. A mix of relief and anticipation quivered in her voice.
	Arla cast a few wary glances to the back entrance as the woman strode to her. But something about the woman’s presence slowly quelled her paranoid alertness. Perhaps the mix of kindness and confidence the woman exuded, as if there was nothing in this world she couldn’t handle. No threat too great for her to overcome.
	Despite everything, she felt her muscles relax a fraction as the woman stopped at her side. Alas, she tensed again as Frieda’s question reminded her of why she was crouching in the deserted tent rather than taking a well-needed shower. 
	Arla inhaled slowly as Frieda sat on the bench near her. The woman’s voice and expression were filled with more caring warmth than she’d ever gotten from even her own parents.
	“You…” she began, hesitating as she shifted her weight uneasily. The aura about the woman mixing with her own sense of urgency melted the stiffness in her words. A resoluteness replaced what timidity had warbled in her voice. “You’re troop, you’re in danger.”  She met Frieda’s gaze.
	“Rayth—he isn’t what he seems. He’s a monster,” she admitted before she could think through her words. “And I mean that in the literal sense, like, straight out of a horror movie kind of monster. The fangs and people-eating kind.”
	Realizing what she’d said—and that she’d raised her bent fingers in a clawed, fang-like shape as she spoke—she cringed. So much for trying to not sound certifiable.
	She shook her head and looked to the ground. She’d already started digging her grave, so she may as well roll with it.
	“I know how crazy this sounds, but I swear I didn’t just escape the funny farm. There are… [i]things[/i] out there.” Her voice quivered slightly. She glanced over to the back entrance. “Things that shouldn’t exist outside of myth, but do.” She raised her head to meet Frieda's gaze for a second. “I know you don’t have any reason to believe me, but I can prove it.”
	She looked to the half unzipped pouch at her belt as she removed the smaller camera from it. 
	“Not Rayth, but about monsters.” She switched the camera’s mode to display her desired photo. Not bothering to change the camera’s brightness settings this time, she held the view screen toward Frieda.