Felidae, meanwhile, was still back at camp. She'd rekindled the fire after it went out during the commotion, and she was staring silently into the embers, completely ignoring the presence of Falcion and Idris. The sun was slowly beginning to rise, its soft tendrils of light spreading throughout the morning sky and turning it a deep, blood red. It was going to be a beautiful dawn, but Felidae ignored that too.
The Breton was a werewolf. She'd known all along that there was something else he'd been hiding from her, something else he'd been keeping in the dark. How could she trust him now?
She picked up a stick and idly poked the embers. It seemed like he could control the Beast inside him, but how long could he last before it took over and he transformed? She didn't want to present if that happened.
The sun continued to rise, casting long shadows across the camp. Several birds tweeted in a nearby juniper grove, and a lone wolf howled somewhere over the hill.
Felidae shivered, but not because of the cold. She'd briefly considered making a dash for Faldil while the two were gone, and then she'd never have to see wolf-boy and his annoying Elf girlfriend ever again.
But she knew that would be suicide. The camp was still most likely heavily guarded, and she'd either be killed, or worse, taken prisoner.
She spat dismally into the flames and took a swig from her hip-flask. No, she'd have to wait for them to come back, but the sooner Faldil was dead and she was far away from this lot, the better.
And of course, she couldn't forget the fact that Kohl had a price on his head. But sorting that out, considering the recent turn of events, was looking to be a bit more difficult than she'd anticipated. But first things first.
Felidae shook her head and stood up, tossing the stick into the fire. "Hey, Bosmer," she said, knocking on the cage wall to get Idris's attention. "Tell me how I can get to Faldil."
