By nightfall they had come into the desolate landscape that had been left in the wake of the demon armies. Villages full of empty houses and woods plundered for every beast and berry, alongside the rivers that in some cases were still red with blood. Once Bolor waded upstream but returned only ten minutes later looking pale and frigid, as if frightened to the very core. What he had seen was only told to Steadfast; and the two of them seemed so horrified that it became forbidden to speak of what the experience had been.

They set up camp at the foot of a mighty crag, using the cliffside and ledges to provide some cover but also an advantage point. Celandine did not know what 'watch' meant as a noun and simply stared when it was suggested she do such a thing in a shift, but it was quickly decided that she should rest, and keep the silver sword upon her at all times. After all, she was it's guardian.

Around the fire they gathered, tents erected and a smattering of salted beef heating on the fire with some nuts and potatoes snuggled into the outside embers. A chill wind flew across the landscape, but the mountain's crag protected them to some extent. Still, Vanimar took the chance to sit beside her, his eyes still wild from the irregular ride and paused before extending his warm woollen cloak around her.

"I'll be taking watch around midnight," he murmured, his crimson eyes focused on her. "So I won't be …"

"I'll be sleeping," Celandine said, almost confused. "Just don't wake me up when you come back in from your … watching."

The drow paused a moment, and gently smiled with amusement. "My shift, but yes. All you do is remain alert on the ledge and make sure no trouble comes to the camp."

"I see," the faun replied. "I still don't quite get it, but good luck. Where are the goats?"

"Grazing on the hillside," Vanimar gestured with his chin.

"Good," she didn't look around at the crag behind them but did notice the way the flames danced as the coldness bit. Taking a corner of the cloak at her side she tugged it further around her. Slightly, she nibbled her lip, noticing how the other dwarves of the company were just casually talking and acting as if this was their daily normal lives.

"What's the matter?" Her companion murmured, noticing the stress in the forehead and other lines of her face.

"You would think I had not just spent three weeks living in sewers and mines," she whispered as a reply, a vague smile on her face. "But this - this camping is nothing I'm used to."

"You're used to a fortress?" He asked.

"Exactly," she nodded. "Not war, not wielding a sword that can save the world."

Vanimar gazed at her a moment and then leaned in closer. "You're the perfect person for the mission, Celandine Rameses," his voice was rich with admiration. "... You're perfect."

You're. You. You are. You.

The look of surprise on her face was astounding. The firelight exposed her eyes as they glistened, natural moisture making them dance.

"Vanimar - you're - I -"

"Beef anyone?"

Then all hell broke loose.