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Kadri:

"I'll say. . . just not where others listen."

She says in a murmur.

And she leans over to whisper.

Daxia
with Kadri and Romana, then Camelia, at the camp

Daxia's expression was unreadable as she nodded slightly. "Yah. Dandy tell Dazi this about Madoka, Thomas." She glanced again at the Imperial girl. "Think Cami still not... hmmmm... adjust to knowing Mother not who she imagine Mother is. But Madoka is Madoka is Madoka... so..." She smiled slightly. "Dazi think maybe Madoka find way home."

She looked up at the sky, tracking the journey of the moons. "Get late, yah. Should sleep... all." Looking back at Kadri and Romana, she said, "West, west, west... more west we go, safer Romana is, yah? Only safer place maybe Dawnview Vale." She tilted her head, studying Romana. "Think Romana be very uncomfortable in home of Ladyship Dayala's Daughters, though. Yah. West, west, west with Romana." She she grinned. "Still have things ask Romana! Tomorrow better for asking. All should sleep." She took a deep breath, and let out a great sigh. "But Dazi talk to Camelia first."

Still, Daxia sat quietly for a fullhand of heartbeats before moving... nodding once, sharply, then standing. "Good sleep," she said to Kadri and Romana before turning and walking towards the edge of the camp where Camelia sat alone. She crouched down in front of the girl and said, "I have news of your mother, Camelia. May I speak to you now? Or would you rather be more rested before we have conversation?"

The Heartwood
After Dusk on the Brementown Road
Hasday, The Twelfth Day of the Month of Crown of Ice, 2623

Daxia, Mikal, Darian, Cesare, Bekkah, Celi, Kadri, Dean, Camelia and Romana

"What's there to speak about ..."

Camelia, simply sat by herself, casting a shadow by herself as she sat apart from the others.

"It was impossible not to hear ..."

She then just cast a look to the other side of the camp, to where their newest ward was investigating her empty bowl, turning it over in her hands.

"I can't even think of helping Mother ...

"It would put my best friend in danger, it would be the last thing she wished, it would put all of you in needless danger.

"What am i supposed to think now; how do you think I feel?"

Daxia
with Camelia at the camp

"I think you feel hurt, betrayed, miserable, alone and lonely. Perhaps not even sure who Camelia Ayannasdotter is anymore." Daxia paused a heartbeat or two. "And all of us let you isolate yourself, perhaps thinking -- as I did -- that introspection might be the best way for you to cope." The Dayalan shook her head. "Except for Bekkah, none of us is more than a handful of years older than you, Camelia. We don't have the wisdom to know how to help you. I doubt any of us can even imagine how it would feel to have our whole world torn asunder as yours has been."

Daxia shifted her position, sitting back on her heels, hands resting on her thighs. "It's true that there is nothing you can do -- now -- to help either your mother or your friend. But..." She glanced over her shoulder where Kadri and Romana continued to chat, before looking back at Camelia. "...if your mother is as... hmmmm... clever as I suspect she is, she will be best off helping herself. And your friend is safe because you are here.

"I don't know what you are supposed to think now, Camelia. Maybe you could think about talking to the others in the group. I can see you took a dislike to me right from the start, so we need not talk if you would rather not. But Bekkah and Kadri are easy to talk with... talk with Cesare," Daxia said with a bit of a smile, "if you can pry him from Darian's side... talk with the young Squire we just collected. He looks like he is feeling quite bemused at the moment.

"Maybe just think about the future and the present. What is done, is done. What is yet to be?" Once again, Daxia shrugged. "That -- despite what Cesare says about the Fates -- I think is up to us.

"And 'us' includes you."

The Heartwood
After Dusk on the Brementown Road
Hasday, The Twelfth Day of the Month of Crown of Ice, 2623

Daxia, Mikal, Darian, Cesare, Bekkah, Celi, Kadri, Dean, Camelia and Romana

"Us ..."

The young woman shook out her long blonde hair, a golden fall of silk cascading over her fair shoulders. In her hands she turned over a small piece of pasteboard, perhaps two thumbs wide by four. Upon it was the fragment of a complex mandala which arcied on one side of a simple triangle.

"All of us."

Camelia looked down upon the card, then looked to Daxia and then finally to Romana. The dark haired woman was curling up like a kitten near the fire. Cloak drawn over herself, hood pulled up, she had become but a grey shadow within their company.

"She has the oddest names for things, doesn't she."

Camelia then returned to her own tasks ... staining the two runes in soft shades of green.

The Heartwood
On the Brementown Road
The Second and Third Weeks of the Month of Crown of Ice, 2623

Daxia, Mikal, Darian, Cesare, Bekkah, Celi, Kadri, Dean, Camelia and Romana

The Crown of Ice is an empty month.

As is The Road East, upon the ride from the haunted grove. The mornings are cold and the air brisk, each breath frosting the air. Their pace seemed to match the season, the each step of two legs or four curt and sharp, no leisurely walk beneath the sun. Indeed the setting of the sun, her long fall towards the far flat horizon was something that became welcomed; it meant that there was a a place to rest coming soon. A farmhouse by the road with an ample barn and a very large fireplace, a small inn; it may have had only a pair of rooms for guests but the food was warm and filling and having a wall - no matter how thin - was better than sleeping out in the fields. Slowly the nature of the farmlands known as the High Tarn became familiar. The fields were scattered with small copses of trees, here and there, around a little hill, surrounding a little hollow. And just a handful of trees or no more than a full hand, as if the rees were shy families, staying close and wary of having others close. Just as scattered were the broken grey stones, tossed as if some drunken farmer had broadcast the landscape with them like he would have seed. Some were small, many were the size of barrels or caravan crates, enough to be sure companions along the trail were the size of small buildings. Their shadows crisscrossed the empty plains, a insubstantial counterpoint to the little streams that ran hither and yon. Fresh water was never a problem; not a day went by that several streamlets wandered across their way; most small enough to step across, where they weren't there was usually some manner of bridge or stepping stones - maintained by no town council or manor lord, but simply by travelers such as they.

The routine was simple, it was comfortable.

Breakfast ... and the discovery of a new regular chore. Deciding who would be the one to wake Romana. It was not soon discovered that it wasn't even improper for the menfolk to do; she had a tendency to cocoon herself and it was fair odds whether the lump beneath the covers had her head or feet at the top of the bed. Not that she was mean or cranky or bitter, but with a definite habit of mumbling a gentle roommmmaannaswakes before rolling over beneath her blanket and forgetting that it was morning. The dark-haired lass was hazy most mornings, a friendly but even harder to understand bundle upon a bench or chair wrapped all up in cloak and hood, cradling a bowl of gruel like it was the finest of noble soups or delighting in the warmth of a muffin. She used both hands and all her strength to haul saddlebags and packs about as the others prepared and she did seem to know enough to care for her own white mare, who would be brushed out and treated with an apple before the day's traveling.

On the trail she stayed in the very middle of the group, a seemingly happen stance and average place to end up.

It was both Daxia and Mikal, however, who noted a hint of tactics in such a position. Not only was she safest from surprise, ensconced with the others protectively before and after ... but riding center also sheltered her from casual sight.

As for meat and such; between Darian and Celi there was always fresh meat. But after leaving the first buck at a farmhouse there was little true need for big game; the day's rest innkeeper or farmer's goodwife were more than glad to add some rabbit or merebeast to the stew. More would have been too much.

Farmer Mulligan, Little Mill Inn, Hodson's Bridge, The Lazy Ruff, Farmer Lyle and Genny's Kitchen ...

The passage of time and distance measured in cast iron pots of stew in a fireplace come evening.

Celi, whose internal alarm was regulated by Our Lady Sun and always awoke just prior to sunrise, volunteered to be the alarm clock for Romana.

She would await sunrise, then rest her hands briefly on the cocoon lump that contained Romana, make a judgement, then unerringly unwrap Romana's head and blow gently in her ear. She had contemplated unwrapping her feet and tickling, but she didn't want her jaw broken by a too-enthusiastic kick.

"Good morning," she would say, after the first eye flicker. "Our Bright Lady awaits you, Would you care for some breakfast?"

She took her cue from Romana's wishes thereafter, always cheerful.

Romana

" ... Romanassleepyberightwakeyssoonnoworiesyesyesyes?"

The unerring unwrapping stops very short, at the clenching of cloth in tight hands, a veritable death grip, still ensconced, still entombed in her warm cocoon, her dark haired head remaining completely covered.

A tickle?

It would happen once.

The young woman would jerk within her covers, and the sharp cry would echo throughout the morning camp, a panicked call ...

"NO TOUCH! NO TOUCH ... no touch ... no touch."

That added a day to their travels; as it took almost until noon to get the terrorized waif to just peek out of from her covers, let alone wake and eat.