[i]Meanwhile[/i]... 
Amal glided silently behind the huts, not trying to be inconspicuous but unable to help himself after so long lurking in the shadows. His feet, even in shoddily made shoes given to him by the locals, were as silent as a whisper. Even if they weren't, he was certain no one would have heard him. There was a throaty melody in the air, hanging upon the night. Amal, ever curious, followed the song until he found himself atop one of the homes, watching a woman standing amid the firelight. 

It was jaunty and hearty, yet haunting in its own way. She was picking up fallen jugs, no doubt thrown by the woad raiders from celebrating past victories or...simply celebrating. Amal simply sat and listened, wondering what she said as she sung. She was singing in Emmaline's language, but her accent was so strange he couldn't pinpoint what she was saying. She spun during the crescendo of her melody, only for her eyes to widen when she saw Amal in the firelight. 

She gasped, but didn't squeal like he thought she would. Instead she smoothed her hair and cleared her throat. Amal leaped down nimbly and gave her a guilty smile. "Sorry, I didn't know what you were singing but it was very lovely." He told her. She held the basket at her hip with all the jugs in it, raising an eyebrow at him. 

"Och, ye sure knoo how tae make a girl feel special. You're the handsome newcomer, aye?" She asked, looking at him boldly. Amal blinked, and then laughed. Perhaps not all northern women flirted similarly. Emmaline had certainly blushed when he caught her bragging at his sexual exploits. Granted it wasn't a criticism as he wouldn't trade Emmaline for any woman, but it was still a weird experience to be so hit on. 

"Thank you," He said with a bow. "I am at that. You wouldn't happen to know anything here worth stealing would you?" 

The proclamation and easy smile made it her turn to pause incredulously. "Yer a funny one, aye? Why don't-" 

"Oi!" A strong voice roared, and Amal could almost feel the heavy footsteps. A great bearded bear of a man approached out of the darkness, holding a club and glaring at Amal like he was a daemon spawned from the Chaos Wastes themselves. "Are ye hittin' on ma lass there ye wee coont?" He asked, stepping closer to begin circling Amal like a shark. The Arabyan had not been flirting obviously, merely talking. But he also knew it was pointless to argue that likely. 

Amal just looked at him while the girl stepped up. She did seem embarrassed at being caught herself. "That's noo fair Gerard, I was the one tae-" 

"Shut up Bonnie!" He cried and swung his club at Amal. Both Gerard and Bonnie were surprised to see his club had hit nothing but air. The large one looked around stupidly just as Bonnie spotted Amal reclining on a barrel; one of many stacked beside Gerard. Amal tapped him on the shoulder, but didn't wait for Gerard, flipping over the man as he turned. The very moment Gerard had spun about, Amal was behind him, idly leaning against his back with his hand as if Gerard was a wall. Bonnie caught herself smiling, but she also saw Gerard's face go red. The Albionman swung savagely while Amal simultaneously slid between his legs and yanked down his trousers, leaving him in nothing but his skivvies. The man, now off balance with his legs caught in his own pants, froze so as not to topple. 

Amal decided to help him with a push. Gerard gave a very unmanly squeal as he toppled to the ground with an audible 'boof,' his shirt and legs covered in mud. Bonnie shook her head, placing her hands on her hips. "The whoole toon will hear abou' this." 

"What do you mean?" 

"Gerard is th' strongest man in the clan!" 

Amal could guess strongest didn't equal best warrior, but he was so large he could tell how he got the moniker. Gerard hastily tried to get up, but he tripped over himself again and cursed in his native language. Amal couldn't help but laugh. "Well, it was nice meeting the both of you. If you'll excuse me, I have a beautiful woman to go and see." 

Amal took no time to make it back to Emmaline, wishing to spend the rest of the night counting what treasures they had accrued, preferably naked on the bed.