Unthinkingly, Elayra glanced toward Ghent when he addressed her discovery. She cringed, ready to look away, but thankfully, he’d dressed. Alas, she didn’t have time to answer before Drust neared.
	She watched, begrudgingly impressed, at how quickly Ghent dumped the contents of his old pack into the stolen one. She turned her attention to Drust. He stopped about two sword-lengths from the teens. The Knight gave Ghent a quick once-over as the boy stammered over his words.
	Drust nodded jerkily—or perhaps it was just a twitch. Elayra wasn’t certain. The dark lines snaking from the corners of his eyes spread outward like roots, reaching and pulling back as Drust fought to keep the Curse manageable.
	He grunted his approval. He jerked his chin toward the thicker line of trees. “In town, stay close,” he began, his voice clipped and strained. “If we’re lucky—” He cut himself off with a sneering humorless chuckle at the concept of them being ‘lucky.’ Gritting his teeth, he pinched the bridge of his nose with one hand, the other at his temple, and took a deep breath.
	Elayra rested her hand on her saber's hilt, making the action look as unthreatening as she could. “We don’t need luck. We have our skills,” she offered.
	Drust snorted. “No matter what,”—his neck twitched violently—“Get. To. The. Rabbit Hole. Understood?” He raised his head, his eerie eyes shifting from Ghent to Elayra.
	Elayra met his gaze. The black-webbed red of his irises had turned his pupils nearly to pinpricks, the colors at war.
	“Understood,” she echoed. She nodded slowly, trying to convey that that applied to more than just his order.
	He snorted, his lips curling into a sneer. Not waiting for any other answer from either of them, he strode toward the trees.
	Not wanting to keep Drust waiting, Elayra deftly attached her quiver to her belt. Abandoning the idea of taking the necessary time to pull out her bow, she closed her pack and shouldered it.
	She hurried to Ghent, grabbing his wrist to get his attention. “He’s giving the Curse more control,” she whispered, at last answering his earlier question. “If it’s stronger in him, it’s more likely we’ll have extra time before the Curse-ridden realize we’re Omitten.” She glanced uneasily after Drust, then looked back to Ghent. “You need to be careful.” She looked away with a quiet huff. “We [i]both[/i] do,” she admitted.
	She released him, and quickened her pace after the White Knight.