Eledhe's fingers were so tight around the hilt of her scimitar that it seemed likely to mold to the shape of her hand. Similarly, the blade at her throat was the space of mere hairs away from drawing blood. "Want to try it, halfbreed?" the elf behind her whispered gleefully.

Perhaps it was excusable that she seemed, for a moment, to have taken leave of her senses. Eledhe twisted in what would have been a lightning-fast movement, quicker than human eye could follow - but sadly, elf eyes were quite capable of doing so. She did manage to bare six inches of blade before tempered steel opened a gash across one cheekbone, and Eledhe gasped as pain clawed its way up her shoulder from a grip that defied breaking.

"I think that's a no," said the Elven commander, the gleam in her eyes sending chills up everyone's spines.

The Phantom was already in front of Silvryn, his greatsword out. Obviously, the Elves considered him hardly worthy of notice, let alone a threat. "You'd be correct," he said, the edge to his voice one that most of them had only heard once before - and that only a few days ago, in a somewhat similar situation. "With all due respect," he added sarcastically, "if I'm to go anyway, I bloody well won't be doing it by abandoning m'lady."

_________________

Ash gripped the hilts of his knives until his knuckes turned white. Watching the soldiers, a thrill of fear ran through him. These weren't half-witted gnomes or bodyguards, but trained, hardened professionals who wouldn't hesitate to kill if it came to that. Still, the elves would be wanting information, so hopefully, they wouldn't dole out fatal wounds. Either way, he wasn't going to stand back and let them take Silvryn. Glaring at the nearest soldier, he stepped closer to the princess.

The elf let out a bark of laughter. "Move back, boy. You could get hurt." He casually flicked his sword out, slicing open a wound on Ash's shoulder.

Not bothering to respond, Ash gritted his teeth and brought up his knives to block the elf's next attack, steel clashing against steel.

Kjan parried again, breathing heavily. Offense had been abandoned after roughly five seconds, and defense was quickly failing. Every time, every blow, he just barely managed to block or evade. Or at least, almost every time. The shallow gash across his ribs and the more profusely-bleeding one on his left bicep were testament enough that he had not succeeded in parrying every time. He thought his leg might be bleeding too, but he didn't have time to care.

His opponent sneered something in Elvish, no doubt an insult that Kjan neither understood nor cared to understand. As he parried yet again, he tried to dig up some of the rudimentary Elvish that he had learned years ago. Nothing especially coherent came to mind, but he did seem to recall one phrase that implied something rather explicit about the intended object's parentage (he may or may not have done some independent study from time to time). At any rate, it had the desired effect (that being utter bemusement), and Kjan was at least able to maneuver so that he was no longer being backed into a tree. Then it was right back to blocking blows that he could barely even see coming.

What bothered him, aside from the fact that he was tiring far more quickly than he typically did in combat, was that he should have been dead by now. All of them should have been. He had seen Eledhe - only half elvish - fight countless times, and he was certain that these elves were far beyond even her skill level. Yet as far as he could tell, no one had suffered anything worse than the occasional scratch, like he had. It was almost as if the elves were toying with them.

Kjan was fairly certain that he would be more offended by that later when he wasn't busy trying not to die.


Silvryn, for her part, was faring comparatively well. It helped, of course, that she was the only one whom Raen wanted alive, but she sincerely doubted that these elves would have any qualms about bringing back damaged goods, if it came to that.

Lashing out with one foot, she was able to incapacitate her opponent long enough to spare a glance at the others. Tomith, who had taken on Aderit herself, was holding his own, but he also as nowhere near gaining the upper hand. The rebels also seemed to be doing well enough, all things considered, but the elves hardly seemed to be putting forward any sincere effort. They seemed to be more interested in simply wearing the humans down, and it would only be a matter of time before they succeeded. Before there was no Phantom Grey, no rebellion, no hope for Kytana...because of her.

Silvryn was left with only one choice. As her fully-recovered opponent advanced once more, Silvryn drew her dagger and placed it at her own throat in one fluid motion. "Stop it!" she demanded over the din of fighting.

Remarkably, everyone did just as she said, pausing mid-battle to stare in surprise. It was Commander Aderit who broke the silence with a quiet scoff. "And what, may I ask, do you intend to accomplish by this particular stunt?" she inquired, taking a step forward.

Silvryn stood her ground. "Whether these rebels are alive or not has absolutely no bearing on your ability to fulfill your orders. Whether I am alive or not, however, most certainly does. I cannot allow you to kill them so needlessly, and so you are presented with a choice. Let all of the others go free and never again do them harm, and I will go with you of my own free will. So much as lay another hand of any of them, and I swear to you that I will kill myself where I stand."

"And what is to stop me from simply disarming you and doing with the others as I please?"

"Do you truly wish to explain to Lord Raen why he has lost the prisoner whom he so clearly requires?" Silvryn countered.

The elven commander appraised her narrowly for a moment. "You are bluffing," she declared at last. "Tecar, begin with the heavy one, I think, and work your way up to the illustrious 'Phantom.' It is always so entertaining to let the leader watch just how-"

Silvryn fractionally increased the pressure on the dagger, just enough to draw a thin line of blood. "I am entirely earnest, commander."

Aderit considered once more, seeming to weigh the possibilities in her mind. At length she merely nodded to the other elves, who released their grasps on the captives. Turning back to Silvryn, she smiled coldly. "We have an agreement, Your Highness."

The Phantom was breathing heavily, and sporting several small wounds given by the elf who pressed a dagger to his throat. Several times, since the moment Silvryn had shouted for the fighting to cease, he'd made attempts to break the elf's hold. None, as evidenced by the slashes on his arms and face, had been successful.

Curse it! Curse it to the bloody underworld! This was no solution! He was standing here, watching her sacrifice herself for the sake of his rebellion! How did he know that the moment they left that clearing, the very clearly bloodthirsty Elven commander would find it convenient to slit Silvryn's throat? The thought made him jab sharply backward with his elbow, but this time the elf merely hissed a breath of laughter and let go.

There was a moment in which hostility hung tangibly in the air. The rebels would be suicidal to attack now, and they knew it - and the elves were waiting for exactly that. Stalemate. Raen's elves would not attack, on the chance that Silvryn was as serious as she said; the Phantom's men followed his signal. And though he wanted nothing more, at that moment, to signal for them to run every single elf through then and there...

Silvryn also was an elf.

Aderit cleared her throat pointedly. The look the Phantom cast her was very nearly as venomous as her own. Slowly, he swiveled to look at Silvryn, knowing he had seconds to make good on the sacrifice she was making for all of them. Seconds.

Several options flashed through his head. Most of them involved a long and painful death for every single one of Raen's elves. Hardly options. More like fantasies. The Phantom took a breath, feeling the seconds slipping away, and turned to incline his head icily to Aderit. "May I have the pleasure of never making your acquaintance again, unless it be pleasantly accompanied by your subsequent departure from this world." He turned to the rest, meeting eyes fleetingly. "Let's move."

As they made to do so, he sheathed his half-drawn greatsword with vicious intensity, with every intention of following his own orders and making speed away. Perhaps it was a mistake, with that in mind, to turn so that his eyes found violet ones.

He noted several things in that moment, including the death grip she had on the dagger, but the one that he most remembered afterward was that her expression was, true to form, as royally calm as ever.

The Phantom took two steps, and lifted the fingers of her free hand to his lips. In the split second when their gazes locked, he turned it and kissed her palm.

He didn't know which was harder - letting it go, or turning his back to walk out of the clearing.

_________________

Silvryn stood there motionlessly as the others quickly made for where they had left the horses. Even if she had wanted to move, she would not have dared. It was taking all of her willpower just to keep from visibly shaking. For all of her bold words only a moment ago, she was perfectly aware that she was not nearly so crucial as Raen would have others believe. She was a figurehead, a symbol under which the elves might be united...under Raen. Silvryn had no doubt that the moment that Raen had the sworn allegiance of all, she would become entirely expendable in the grand scheme of things. It was a less than reassuring thought.

It was also not helping matters that her hand had not stopped tingling since the Phantom had released it.

The rebels were mostly out of the clearing by now; only the Phantom remained, and he was leaving. One step, two steps....

"Phantom," she called after him, hastening to catch up. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then, ignoring the piercing stares of those around her, went up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. She also used the opportunity, however, to discreetly whisper something barely audible in his ear. "Find it," she repeated quietly for emphasis before returning the dagger to her neck and all but daring Aderit to object.

"Your babysitter as well," Aderit insisted once the Phantom had departed.

Silvryn cast a glance toward Tomith, who had stubbornly lingered behind the others and was glaring as Aderit as though his gaze alone might be capable of incinerating her where she stood. "Tomith, go with them."

"My lady, I-"

"Go," she interrupted firmly. "I will take care of myself."

Tomith looked to be on the verge of protesting further, but finally he grudgingly turned to follow after the rebels.


It was some time before all sounds of the band of rebels had completely faded into distance. Before the elven commander could say anything, Silvryn flung her dagger down at Aderit's feet of her own accord. Then, assuming her most aloofly regal countenance, she looked around at her captors.

"Well?" she demanded. "Are we going or are we not?"

---------------------------------------------

The Phantom's group rode hard for quite some time, eager to put as much distance between themselves and the other elves as possible - just in case they decided to change their minds. Hardly anyone spoke, the combined burden of losing Silvryn once more and the signficant blow to their pride taking quite a toll on group morale.

When they finally slowed to a more gentle pace, Kjan's arm and leg (which he had discovered was, in fact, injured) were throbbing from the constant jostling. Looking around, he noted that they were only a short distance from a small mountain stream that looked relatively clean.

"We should stop," he commented quietly to the Phantom, breaking the silence that had fallen over the group. "Use the water to clean ourselves up a little. I've got most of the bandages in my pack, I think."

The Phantom nodded stiffly, once. His expression was nothing short of stony.

The sun was spilling gold rays over the terrain they'd traversed in recent moments, with an uncaring spirit of cheer as to be entirely unwelcome among them. The Phantom secured his horse to a tree with more energy than entirely necessary, along with Silvryn's mare, which had been galloping alongside his gelding.

So stupid! To think they could have outrun elves! He should have had a plan. The Phantom knew that there was no way they would have gotten out of that clearing alive without what Silvryn had just done, and it infuriated him. She was the heir to two kingdoms, by the bloody underworld! And Raen cared not a whit. For all the Phantom knew, that was the last time he'd ever see -

He had enough willpower to suppress that thought, especially with the sudden sting of cold water in a long gash down his arm. There were several others, inflicted not in battle, but from the multiple times he'd attempted to loosen his elf captor's hold. Futile. Absolutely futile.

He splashed around a clump of greenery, to the other side of where the stream formed a pool, and abruptly found a pair of very hostile blue eyes.

Eledhe was quite a bit worse off than he. She had gashes across both cheekbones, which he imagined would not fail to leave scars; a deep cut in one shoulder staining even her black tunic dark crimson; and her posture was stiff enough that it spoke of other wounds in places not readily noticeable. "What do you want?" she snapped, whirling on him. The Phantom very nearly took a step back at the fury both in her voice and in her eyes. It seemed that her pride, as well as the rest of her, had been hacked into bloody ribbons by the encounter.

"Guess," he returned caustically, his own violently bad mood not mitigated in the least.

They glared daggers at each other for what felt like a full minute. Surprisingly, Eledhe was the first to turn away. Back as stiff as a board - if she'd been a cat her every hair would have been standing on end - she stalked past him. Ice was too warm a term.

The Phantom muttered a derogatory term and made to bandage his own wounds, now finding several ways to simultaneously blame Eledhe as well as himself. He made to splash water on his face, but his hands halted abruptly halfway to completing the task.

With hardly any reason at all, he leaned over to look at his reflection in the water. It was a minute before he realized why he'd done it. In a better mood, it might have made him call himself a few amusing names. As it was, he straightened and let the water spill out of his fingers.

Find it. And beforehand -

The Phantom knotted his last bandage with undue intensity and stalked back to the horses.

_________________

It took a few moments for everything to sink in. Dante stood, probably the least injured out of the group, looking utterly shocked. His eyes were slightly glazed over as he stared in bewilderment where the elves had just been, and then it struck him, <i>I'm not dead</i>.

His feeling of elation was extremely short-lived however. Reality charged, head-on, hitting him in the stomach like a massive goat. If he had been confused before, he was positively lost now. Somehow, the Phantom had a legion of hostile elves after him, besides all the other problems. This was just bloody well the most complicated mess Dante had ever heard of, and if their ingenious leader didn't have some plan to get them out of it...

Dante whirled on the rest of the group, a few choice expletives on the tip of his tongue. "Now what? We ride off only to ambushed and have our throats slit some later day? So we can all have a wonderful fortnight of bloody sleepless anxiety, waiting for someone to die? Well this is <i>brilliant.</i> What'd you ever have to go make contact with elves for anyway!?"

He paused, as his face went red in anger. It took every amount of will power he had left to keep from mounting his horse and leaving this group of stupid changelings... but then where would he go? They were out in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by elves no doubt, and probably other equally dangerous foes.

He cursed the elves again. Cursed them for existing in this increasingly strange world.

"It's all their fault. We could be over and done with this confounded mission... but you just have to get involved with elves! I swear, this is the most pathetic rebellion I've ever heard of..."

_________________
<center>
"The piano is able to communicate the subtlest universal truths by means of wood, metal and vibrating air."

If the small dagger that seemed to magically embed itself in a nearby tree trunk closer to Dante's head than the cartographer probably would have liked, Kjan was sure that it was purely coincidental. He was far too busy sitting at the edge of the stream and innocently preparing to treat his own wounds to take much notice of where his dagger had decided to fly off to.

Once Dante had finally shut up, Kjan promptly set about cleaning up the long gash that went across his ribcage. The water was frigid and so did at least a little to numb the pain, but it was about as much consolation as half a pint of ale when one wanted to get completely sozzled - which was to say, not much. Digging out one of the relatively clean bandages, he then wrapped it around his torso and tied it off with the ease of one who had done so many times in the past.

As he began inspecting his countless other injuries, Kjan swore profusely under his breath - not because it hurt terribly much, but because he felt like it. He didn't pretend to be invincible - the number of scars on his person alone discounted that notion - but he was good at what he did. They all were, especially those who were officially the Phantom's. Kjan strongly suspected that the selection of the party had not been quite as random as the Phantom had made it seem. They were an odd lot, but very rarely did they come out of a fight so soundly and unquestionably vanquished.

Except, evidently, when their opponents were a band of highly-trained, physically superior elves who were inconveniently bent on removing a certain royal personage from the presence of human rebels.

Kjan cast an oblique look over at the Phantom, who hadn't uttered more than three words since their hasty departure from the clearing. Phae very, very rarely got this upset over anything - Kjan was fairly sure that he could count the number of times he'd witnessed such an event on one hand - but when he did, even Kjan was smart enough to give him a wide berth. Usually.

Tying off the last bandage, Kjan shoved the rest of the supplies back into his pack and quickly pulled back on his shirt and vest. He made his way back over to the others and settled down on a rock near Jate, who was seeing to his own minor wounds. "Congratulations - you have received your first battle scar in the service of the Phantom," he said with a half-hearted attempt at a smirk. "It's something of a rite of passage, among this lot."

Jate finished wrapping the bandage around his arm. It was a small gash, his pride had been hurt more than anything else. Back home, he was close to besting the head weapons master. Here...Jate fingered a scrape dangerously near his throat. Mere luck had saved him from being an unresponsive, cold body right now. Luck, and a woman. That ate away at him. To be bested in a fight was one thing, but to have been saved because a woman gave herself up....They would probably never see her again.

Looking up as Kjan sat near him, Jate gave a half-smile. "I suppose it could've been worse." He motioned to the large bandage around Kjan's middle. "And more painful. Though some might find ways to make a bruise seem the end of the world." This with a glance at Dante. "You'd think that we sent them an engraved invitation." Jate winced as he put water onto a scrape on his knee.

His once fine clothes were stained, torn, and sopping wet. He was dirty, tired, and bloody. No matter what that crazed dwarf said, Jate did not feel very prince-like. And yet, he was voluntarily trudging along with the rest. Why? He had to put it down to curiosity. An old saying entered his mind, curiosity drowned the bruma. Though, hopefully, there wouldn't be any drowning for him.

"How far do you suppose it is 'til we reach...well, anything promising?" Jate wondered.

_________________
going on a journey through my old claims

"Couple of days. At least," said the Phantom in a monotone, rummaging in one of his saddlebags for a waterskin. He didn't look up. "Options are we stay here today and get started again tonight, or ride on now."

He didn't explain the pros and cons of either, only sat down at the edge of the pool and stared determinedly and grimly into the water, not drinking but twisting the waterskin between his fingers. Eledhe had disappeared, ostensibly to tend to her wounds in the privacy she clearly desired, and the rest were finishing their own ministrations to the marks left by the elves.

Tomith was leaning against a tree, mouth a thin slash in his face, looking as thunderous as it was possible for an elf to look. "Foolishness, to camp today," he said abruptly. "We need to move."

"Aye, but perhaps you'll think differently when the horses drop underneath us from exhaustion," snapped the Phantom, turning to meet Tomith's displeased expression with an equally potent one of his own. "Do you think I am not every iota as concerned as you are?" he continued in an intense undertone, eyes boring into the elf opposite. "Do you think I walked out of that clearing feeling proud that I'd escaped death because she offered instead?"

The last few words were grated out, and the Phantom got up to stride to his horse, eyes narrowed. "Right," he barked abruptly. "Let's go, then."

_________________

Ash swung himself into his horses' saddle, grimacing as the twin gashes on his shoulders protested the movement. He had come away from the battle with fewer wounds than he had been expecting, but that cut down the side of his face would probably leave a scar. Still, he had to admit that he could easily be dead now. The elves would have killed them all, if it hadn't been for Silvryn. <i>We owe her our lives, and we're abandoning her.</i> he thought bitterly. <i>What kind of friends are we?</i>

He forced himself to put a stop that line of thought. It was done- they couldn't change anything now. The elves were probably miles away already. Gripping the reins, he cast one look back through the forest, then jerked his horses' head around and spurred it to a trot, following the group.

The following day passed with minimal excitement. The general mood of the group was rather subdued by the loss of Silvryn (again), not to mention the substantial blow that had been dealt to their pride. No one was especially talkative, Tomith had lapsed back into monosyllabic answers (if any), and the Phantom was simply altogether uncommunicative. Add to that the fact that the whole day had been incongruously peaceful, without so much as a lone rain cloud to give cause for concern, and it made for a very uneventful ride.

When they finally settled down to make camp, the sun was just beginning to slip behind the mountains. Kjan, being bored and having nothing better to do, borrowed the Phantom's bow with the intent of doing some hunting. After roughly half an hour and several wasted arrows, Tomith (who had accompanied him as a precaution) wordlessly took the bow and quiver from him and within four minutes had skewered as many rabbits. But he did, at least, allow Kjan the dignity of carrying back the bow and one of the rabbits.

Once they had returned, Kjan took it upon himself to at least properly cook their catch, even if he'd failed to kill a single thing himself. It didn't take long to gather up sufficient wood for a fire, and cooking rabbits was a relatively simple task. They were soon finished, and while the meat was lacking in proper seasoning and bit on the scant side, it was a sight better than the dried-up substance of questionable origin that the dwarves called by the same name. Besides, after more than a week of constant travel and near-death experiences, matters such as taste became rather peripheral.

Taking two servings of the food, Kjan settled down on a nearby rock and handed one tin to the Phantom. "I couldn't bear the thought of dried meat yet again, so I took the liberty of finding something better," he commented lightly. He grimaced before reluctantly adding, "Tomith did the actual killing part, of course. My skill with a bow appears to have remained consistent."

There was brief silence as Kjan began to eat, but it was soon broken. "Do you recall that one time when Master Rand decided to send us on a hunting trip in the middle of December, and we finally got so tired of finding nothing that we bought a brace of pheasants at the local market and stuck arrows in them?"

The Phantom smiled thinly. "Grossly overpriced, those pheasants were," he commented, in a somewhat halfhearted tone. Behind them, one of the horses snorted and stamped a forefoot, making bracken crack beneath its hooves as it shifted. "All the Regent's fault, too."

They both fell silent, that particular topic seeming abruptly much less important with the recent addition, into an already unbalanced equation, of a large group of power-hungry elves.

Eledhe chose this moment to casually sidle round the opposite edge of the rough circle in which they all sat, with the pretension of getting something out of one of her saddlebags. This gave her an opportunity, while she maneuvered around the skittish horse and began rummaging for something, to glance up and catch Kjan's eye. The Phantom was staring absently into the fire, and her gaze flicked to him once before she jerked her head to indicate something about the forest vaguely to her left. This could mean any number of things, including the possibility that she'd gotten tired of having no one to use for target practice and thought Kjan useful for the purpose, but it was somewhat cleared up when she mouthed elves, and ducked once more behind her horse.

If anyone had been watching, Tomith's eyes, through the whole meal, were utterly disinclined to remain on the same object for more than a second and a half. He had barely touched his food, and was instead toying (in a manner remarkably like a similar habit of Eledhe's) with a leaf-shaped dagger.

The Phantom, oblivious, idly tossed the remains of his rabbit into the fire, and watched the bones slowly char black for a moment. "How're our provisions?" he inquired, rather listlessly, as if searching for a topic but really not much for talking about anything at all.

_________________

Kjan didn't reply immediately, frowning slightly at Eledhe's news. He glanced around inconspicuously, not especially surprised when he didn't see anything out of the ordinary. He did note, however, that Tomith seemed fractionally tenser than usual - more than could be attributed to recent events alone. The elf was watching the woods around them intently, clearly prepared to spring into action at any moment. The implication was less than reassuring.

Not for the first time, Kjan found himself caught in the conundrum of balancing 'friend' and 'second-in-command.' He looked briefly over at the Phantom, who remained oblivious. On the one hand, he saw his friend burdened enough already with innumerable concerns and did not wish to contribute to the load unnecessarily. After all, their unseen visitors had not yet exhibited any intent of doing them harm, and it wasn't as if the rebels would be able to do anything if they changed their minds. They couldn't outpace them, as had already been proven, and they certainly couldn't beat them in combat. He hesitated to add yet another concern that could not be changed.

On the other hand, however, he was duty-bound report all discoveries to his commander. Thirty-something years of friendship aside, Phae was the leader of this rebellion, and as such needed to know of anything that might pose a threat to the group as a whole.

"We may want to double the watch tonight," he commented lightly, tone low enough that only the Phantom heard. "Never know what might be out there."

Kjan paused, then resumed their previous discussion as though nothing had happened. "They'll last a while longer," he said with a shrug. "Assuming that this whole ordeal lasts no more than a few weeks, we should be fine. Wishing that we could swear off of travel rations for the rest of eternity, perhaps, but fine." He paused again, this time to cast a pointed look in the direction of the Phantom. "The pipeweed has been running low lately, though. It would appear that someone has been helping himself quite frequently."

The Phantom shrugged, deadpan. "Can't imagine who that might be. How d'you know it isn't a her?"

There was a distinctly audible snort from somewhere behind the nearest horse, which the Phantom chose to ignore, and he subsequently lapsed into moodily contemplative silence.

By now their only light was the fire, which was licking hungrily at the varied remains of dinner, and most of the party were quite ready to bed down and sleep like the dead. It had been a long ride.

Tomith took watch by default - he didn't look as though he was much inclined to sleep, even if he'd needed to. The Phantom had every intention of doing the same - at least for first watch - but when he made for the boulder designated for the purpose, as if afforded a good view of the surrounding area, Eledhe had quite coolly occupied the spot.

A few seconds of what could be most accurately identified as a staring contest ensued. The Phantom folded his arms. "I'm keeping watch."

"Oh, really?" responded Eledhe, customarily caustic. "Strange, that, it looks like I'm keeping watch."

"And you think I trust you to do that."

Eledhe flipped a throwing star between her fingers. "You imagine anything around here looking for a meal is choosy about whether it gets half-elf or human? Funny, never seen any evidence of those elvish reflexes of yours. Oh, but of course, I'm about to side with the nearest killer elv - the nearest killer bear against all of you."

There was a silence. The Phantom appraised her narrowly. He cast a glance over his shoulder, at Tomith on the opposite side of the clearing. The elf arched an entirely serious eyebrow at him. A moment more of inward debate and he grunted and turned around. Eledhe resumed her position, not even a hint of a smile touching her lips. The thought of killer elves tended to do that to a person.

When all noise from the camp had dwindled to the occasional snore, and rustling of bracken as someone rolled over, Eledhe slid off the boulder and maneuvered around cloak-rolled forms until she got to the one she was reasonably sure was Kjan. She thought for a moment, then prodded him with a boot, hissing, "Wake up."

_________________

Kjan, by this point in time, considered himself to be rather the expert on terrifying experiences. For example, encountering a few dozen soldiers without any sort of weapon on one's person. Or investigating sounds in a dark cave that one would really rather not know the source of. Or facing Celeste during her phase of the moon. Or any time when Phae got that look on his face.

Above all, however, he decided right at that moment, was waking up to find Eledhe Darkstar standing over one's bedroll.

Sitting up with a start, Kjan looked around hastily and found everyone else (excepting Tomith) to still be sound asleep. He sighed heavily, then flopped back onto the ground with a groan and closed his eyes once more. After several minutes, he became aware that Eledhe had not yet moved - a boot in his side yet again may have aided that realization - and reluctantly opened one eye.

"What?" he slurred sleepily.