As the night came the children were forced to stop, darkness and exhaustion driving them to make camp for the night. Only Dakin and Ronin seemed to know what they were doing and Brisa was content just follow directions. Argurios didn’t look uncomfortable by the journey or the bivouacking outside however he seemed bothered by something. He was quiet and withdrawn and Brisa would have gone over to try and find out if she could help, except that she herself was overwhelmed with everything. She was so far out of her element that she wanted to cry. She didn’t. But she wanted to.

She tied up her goat, made sure it had food and water, and milked it. She did each task woodenly. There was something surreal about performing her usual chores in such an unusual place. As it got darker Brisa got more and more nervous. Training from the time she could walk drove her to always seek shelter at night. She became a bit jumpy, like a frightened deer. 

She collected the jug of milk, it was easily enough for everyone to have a glass, and stood up trying not to leap out of her skin. The growing dark and all the weird noises were terribly grating to the girl who was never outside after dark. When Argurios brought over knives she stared dumbfounded. What in the name of all that was holy was she supposed to do with a knife? She would be more likely to cut herself than anything else. She didn’t want to say that outright to Argurios however, he had been so helpful earlier. So she merely nodded. 

So she picked it up, tried unsuccessfully to find a place to put it, finally put it carefully in her shoulder bag, and set the whole kit-n-caboodle down by the fire. She didn’t know what to do and feared she would only be in the way. Still she felt she should be helping; she was sure they would need her to do something. Before she could even offer however she fell asleep standing up and toppled over, landing with a terribly hard thump on the ground.