Elyra heaved a sigh when Ghent moved away. She didn’t want to look at him. To deal with him. She scowled as a thought that meant she had to interact with him struck her.
	“Just don’t…” She glanced up to Ghent just in time to see him duck behind one of the trees of the woods. She let out an exasperated groan and gripped the bridge of her nose. “Go into the woods,” she finished her statement in a grumble. 
	She glanced to his weapon still laying discarded on the ground. He'd gone off without his weapon.
	“Whatever,” she grumbled to herself. If he was going to be stupid about it, he [i]deserved[/i] to be eaten. 
	[i]But he doesn’t know any better.[/i] The annoying reminder snuck into her mind unbidden. Her lips puled down, loathing the truth of the words. It was evident enough in what she'd experienced that he’d lived a life far different from hers.
	A life filled with safety and family.
	She let out a groaning growl, and shook her head. It didn’t matter. He was [i]here[i] now. He needed to adapt, or die.
	Still, she kept an ear open for any sign of trouble. The last thing she wanted was to lose him. And, though she wouldn't admit it aloud, she now had a score to settle, a debt to repay. He had, after all, saved her life.
	Walking on her knees to the first aid kit, she grabbed her saber and placed it beside her. Ready for action at the slightest disturbance, she cast frequent glances to the tree Ghent had vanished behind.
	Elayra reached up to her neck to check if the bleeding had stopped on its own. Pulling away, she scowled at the light splash of red tinting her fingertips. The river had also prevented the thornbites from clotting. Which meant she still had some work to do before Drust returned. 
	Drust. She looked again to the trees, this time to roughly the last place she’d seen their guardian. Judging by the slight shift in the shadows’ angle, she guessed his half hour mark had passed.
	She shook her head and took a breath. [i]He’s fine,[/i] she tried to reassure herself. She couldn't stand when he was late, good excuse or not. [i]And it might not have been half an hour yet.[/i]
	Wanting to focus on something else, she reached for the first aid box, opened it, and removed the wad of bandages. She pulled the stiletto from the ground and wiped the blade off on the bottom of her dress-like shirt. She cut off a portion of the bandages, dampened the cloth with the moondrop milk, then carefully dabbed at the wounds encircling her neck. She felt the gentle, not-quite-stinging tingle of it beginning to work.
	As she finished, she looked back to Ghent’s tree, frowning. It shouldn’t be taking him this long to change.
	Collecting her sword, she stood. “Everything okay?” she called, cautiously stepping toward his trees. She caught the faint mutter of his voice, but not his words. Her eyes narrowed.