"Anything else I can do for you before you turn in for the night, milady?" Sokanon asked Maeve after leading her to a tent for her to use for the time being.

Maeve looked around at camp once more and then shook her head. "No... But thank you for the offer." She gave the taller woman a weak smile. "That was... kind of you." She paused and said, "I'll be fine though with just this."

Sokanon leaned her head back just the slightest. "...if you say so." She sucked in a breath, slightly harshly. "Rest well then... We'll discuss what we can in regards to where this 'Aelod' is in the morning."

"Rest well too," Maeve said in a somewhat awkward tone, waving her off and watching semi-cautiously as Sokanon left, disappearing into the thick line of brush dividing the camp in two.

Maeve crawled into the tent when she couldn't see the woman anymore and closed it behind her, taking a seat. She ran a hand over her tired face. Despite how little she had gotten done in terms of looking out for Aelod, she was completely and utterly exhausted. Maeve slumped back against a bedroll, trying to collect all of her thoughts from the day.

There was something about the way that Sokanon had told her about the region's flora... Something particularly off about it. The notion hadn't made any lick of sense to Maeve—--not once in her studies of the New World had Maeve come across a flower that had secreted that sort of foul odor—--not in that region of it anyway.

"There's no way," Maeve murmured to herself. "...and not like some sort of animal... Like a skunk marked the area either... No, this... This was very distinctly a heavy smell of total rot." She paused, murmuring, "Maybe a bear caught something and left part of the portion to rot... That's got to be it... Yes."

She rubbed her weary eyes. "...and as for those golden eyes, there's no way Sokanon's human... The way they glint... It's not natural. ...There's more to them—--something I can't quite put my finger on... not yet, at least."

Maeve had seen a somewhat similar phenomenon in her own sister—-Eleanor. Nora's eyes had slight golden undertones in her eyes, but for the most part, her irises were more white than anything—--however, Maeve was willing to give Sokanon the benefit of a doubt. "...Perhaps she's a banshee of some sort... Just like Nora is."

Maeve turned her attention over to her beaten-up, leather satchel she had set aside earlier. She reached into the bag, digging around for one of her books to attempt to get some late night reading done. "Aah!" she hissed after accidentally pricking one of her fingers with her dagger in the bag. Maeve immediately pulled her hand back and tried to nurse it.

Outside, without Maeve noticing right away, the crickets, owls, and cicadas fell completely silent—-a few moments later, Maeve started to catch wind of it. She raised her head, puzzled at the animals' rather strange behavior. "What in the...."

Something rammed against the tent, starting to shake it and soon enough, Maeve's injured pointer finger was long forgotten. Maeve backed up, eyes locked in horror at the shaking part of the tent. Oh, gods, she thought to herself, unable to utter a single word at that very moment. Maeve held her breath until yet another thought pertaining to her current situation crossed her mind. Dammit! Damn it all! It's the blood, now isn't it? Whatever's out there, causing that commotion, it clearly smells my blood and it's hungering for it... Suppose the scent of my fear isn't making it any easier either...

Maeve looked to her hand where her somewhat shallow wound dripped small bits of blood. She took a deep breath, trying to bury her fear for whatever was outside deep down. She concentrated on the wound and focused her magic there, healing it. Once it was healed, she looked to the shaking part of her tent once more and held her breath yet again.

Slowly but surely the shaking came to a slow—--and soon after, a halt.

Once Maeve heard the fauna outside once again, she let her breath out.

"...what in the hell was that thing?" the witch asked herself before grabbing her dagger and soon after, laying down. She'd keep the blade close in case whatever that was came back when she was trying to rest. Despite laying down, Maeve knew she'd most likely not get a single lick of sleep that night.