Aðalbjörk couldn't sleep, thinking about all the pain Ilrok had caused. Ilrok's betrayal was still fresh in her mind. While the bruises from him choking her eight months ago were gone, the scars he had gifted her weren't. The young woman's gaze fell upon the sleeping infant nearby. 

     Ásgeirr was the heir of Ilrok… He'd cause just as much pain–Aðalbjörk was sure of it. 

      Aðalbjörk reached toward the gold handled dagger on the table–silently passing by a sleeping Heimir as she did.

       The nineteen year old continued toward Ásgeirr until she reached the cot. Anger just overflowed from her as she thought about her hatred for Ilrok.  Aðalbjörk rose the dagger over her head and brought it down hard, above the sleeping infant's chest. 

     Aðalbjörk stopped herself, hovering the blade inches above the child. Her eyes grew wide. Her hand shot upward, dropping the dagger–which fell upon the cot.

     Aðalbjörk held her own hand, on the verge of tears. She couldn't believe her own actions.

     Ásgeirr's violet eyes opened–he stared right up at his mother. 

     Aðalbjörk could've sworn she saw fires flicker in his eyes and she instantly reached for the dagger. Aðalbjörk drove the blade downward again.

      "Aðalbjörk!" Heimir shouted. "What are you doing?"

      That's what stopped Aðalbjörk right in her tracks. She hadn't hurt Ásgeirr too badly–she had just cut a nick in his chest. The young woman looked over her shoulder to Heimir, tears continuing to gather in her violet eyes. She turned away once again to face her child and dropped the blade, letting it fall to the ground. Aðalbjörk stumbled backward, nearly falling.

     Heimir caught her as she just began to cry.

─┉─¡! • !¡─┉─

   As the group continued through the forest just outside of Cyeollaria—or rather, what was left of it—Athanasia kept her head low. She had no intention to socialize with the group—well, unless it was Cadwal or Aculia—they always seemed to know what she was thinking.

     "How much farther is your ship?" Agnar asked Noaah.

     "Still a day's trek away," Noaah told the sorcerer.

     "We should stop for the night," Agnar insisted. When he got unsure looks from the others, he added, "We're far enough from Cyeollaria that those demons won't find us if we stop for a couple of hours."

     "If you say so," Eonjeok responded, not sounding overly convinced.

      The group stopped where they were, setting their weapons down.

       Cedozar returned shortly with a dead deer–Jayaatu returned afterward with firewood.

       After Jayaatu sat the wood down, Agnar set the logs on fire with a spell.

       Everyone ate silently for most of the meal.

       Noaah stood, pulling the lute from his back. He stroked the strings. He cleared his throat. "On a night, so dark and so cold– survivors of many raced from Cyeollaria for refuge. Oh, yes, the demons were so bold! Ilrok's men tore through the masses and burnt the city to ashes!"

       Athanasia felt Noaah scan her mind for the events that had happened prior that night.

      "The devils cut out tongues–seared fire into lungs! Out from the castle, did she race–her mind in a grim, dark place–slaughtered the king where he stood, just like any Devilborn would!"

     Athanasia stiffened at that last line. She was sure the fire had lit up the scowl on her face. She wanted to stand up from where she was sitting by Druid and deck Noaah in the face, but she knew that would out her as the one who killed Heimir–so she did nothing, but listen to the bard's tale she had already lived through earlier that night.

      "The Devilborn drained the blood of every beast around— but helped no one dying in the burning town~" Noaah continued, the strumming of his lute getting faster. "Oooooooh! The Devilborn's a beast! She's a devil! She's evil's own vessel. Watch her kill– watch her maim– slaughtering her way to fame."

      Athanasia could feel the anger building up inside her, but yet, she still did nothing.

      "The Devilborn raced through the night– striking down foes with all her might. Danger lurked nearby, within the shadows. Then fury fell down upon the monster like arrows. Rising from his place, was a dashing young siren– singing songs from here to the horizon. He was the true hero of Cyeollaria! He-"

      "That's not what happened at all," Agnar said, throwing a bone at Noaah.

       Noaah swiftly evaded. "Watch where you're throwing those things!" He gestured to his top. "This is silk! You'll ruin it!"

     Agnar, Hrafnúlfr, Eonjeok, Wanda, and a couple of others exchanged glances before throwing the bloodied bones from meals at Noaah.

     Roars of laughter exploded from the group as Noaah's silk outfit was stained.

      "Really? Do you not know how hard it is to get blood out of silk?" Noaah complained. 

      Derbáil threw yet another bone, which crashed against Noaah's shirt.

     "Haha. Now that you've all had your fun playing 'Bully the Bard', need I remind you of what you've just done? Silk is expensive. You have to get funds for it through jobs–to have a job, you need to be free. When I tell you I had to spend an arm and nearly a leg to free myself from my shackles, I mean it quite literally, so I'd appreciate it-" Noaah was cut off.

     "Okay, whatever, incubus," Hrafnúlfr laughed.

      Noaah clenched his jaw. "You know what? Goodnight." He blew out the fire which the group protested before storming off and laying on the ground.

      It didn't take long for the others to fall asleep–well, except for Athanasia, who couldn't sleep whatsoever.

       Athanasia paced around the perimeter of the campsite for quite some time, stroking her pendent,  before she returned to the center.

       She was surprised to still see Druid up.

       The young girl was just sitting still on the log, watching the others sleep.

      Athanasia took a deep breath, before approaching the child—every thought in her mind told her not too. She once again took a seat by Druid. "You can't sleep?"

      Druid shook her head. "No. You couldn't either?"

     "I couldn't."

      "Why not?" Druid questioned.

       I can't just tell her I'm plagued by nightmares every night, Athanasia thought to herself. "Someone needs to keep watch for Ilrok's men."

       Druid shook her head. She couldn't be anymore than seven years old. "That's not true. You're afraid of something. There was something that haunted you in the past and it gives you night terrors because of it. I can see it in your eyes."

      Athanasia looked a little shocked that the young girl knew all of that.

      "It's okay," Druid began in her thick Roman accent. "I have nightmares too… about my time back in Rome." She paused before telling the older woman, "It's okay to be scared. What we fear makes us stronger."

     It actually felt sort of pleasant for Athanasia to speak to someone like this.

      Athanasia smiled ever so slightly. Then she noted Druid's shivering. "They never had cold weather in Rome?"

      Druid shook her head once again. "Nope. Just a lot of warm days with being on the Mediterranean and everything. I think you'd like it. I know I did. I kinda miss it." 

        "If you miss Rome so much, why don't you go back?" Athanasia questioned the child.

       "Oh, I couldn't." Druid gulped. "Not after everything that happened there."

      Athanasia moved her head ever so slightly before taking over her fur coat and draping it over and Druid's shoulders. She stood. "Try to get some sleep, kid." Then, she headed back off to pace.