"You did good," Ilyana said, giving the donkey a good rub down, when her stomach suddenly wobbles, burning and cramping. She leans forward, resting herself against the animal's side as she sucks in air, her forehead all sweaty, while her right hand fumbles with freeing the flask on her belt. It took a few moments, but it felt like ages before she could free it, unthreading the cap and let it dangle on its little chain as she surreptitiously took in a quick mouthful, then another.

She could feel the medicine trickling down her throat, then after a moment, the burning easing and her stomach relaxing. Ilyana used the edge of her hand to wipe her mouth before straightening, then glances about to see if anyone had noticed. Not that it mattered, the rumor was she was drinking. After all, she was a sailor and had small casks of rum on her cart. Not that it was anyone's business, but she could feel the self-righteous disapproval. 

Screwing on the cap, she slipped the flask back in its usual place, then glaring around her, she walks to the back of the cart and squats down, checking the cart's axle and the nut holding the wheel in place. It seemed tight. Getting back up, she grabs the donkey's feedbag and fills it with a day's measure of grain, then slips it in place over the donkey's head so she could feed.

Ordinarily, she'd let it graze, but she didn't trust the grass here, the whole forest felt wrong. Ilyana goes to check the other wheel, then slips out the wooden blocks from under the canvas, slipping them into the corners so the cart wouldn't tip in the night. Assuming someone didn't yank them out again like they did a month ago, laughing as she yelled bloody murder at the top of her lungs as she got tipped out.

Clearly, she should have gone for a proper wagon, which seemed like a waste of space - until she joined the caravan. Without intending to, she glances over at Valdo's wagon - just as the white-haired half-elf climbed out. Feeling her face burning, the half-human girl turned abruptly away, pretending to check one of her tie-downs.

So what if he was one of the few half-humans in this carvan, why couldn't Ilyana stare? Like herself, he was scarred. Did he get his in battle, like most of her scars? She'd like to stay to listen to his stories, but she was... uncomfortable in crowds, ever since her crew marooned her. Besides, he might see her brand. The one marking her as a thief.

Best to keep her distance. Besides, almost everyone here thought she was a boy. Why would he be interested in another boy? 

Her stomach wobbled.