Tessanna stirred at his voice.

“Getting hungry again?” she asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. He didn’t answer as he opened the dried meat’s brown wrapping. He tore off a chunk and ate, grimacing at how salty it was. He immediately craved water. The girl watched him, absently picking at her lip.

“Do we ride today?” she asked. Qurrah shook his head.

“The Bridges are near. I want us to be prepared in case our welcome is as kind as last night.”

The half-orc took another bite. Couldn’t Aurelia summon water too? He thought he remembered her soaking his brother once or twice in such a way. The elf was a walking supply caravan, he thought. Here he was, able to manipulate shadow, bone, and blood, and he would trade it all for the ability to conjure a tiny bit of water along with a sweetroll or two.

He finished the rest of the meat and then cast the wrapping to the dirt. Tessanna raised an eyebrow.

“Someone’s being a pig. Where will we get more?”

“Those men that attacked us last night must live nearby,” he said. He pooled saliva in his mouth and then spit, imagining it full of salt. “Most likely a village. If we meet them at the Bridges, we’ll find out, and take what we need.”

“Murder for supplies?” She wrapped the blankets around her so that only her head peeked out. “That’s low even for us, isn’t it?”

Qurrah opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. It was, wasn’t it?

“They attacked us first,” he decided. “If they dare touch us again, well, would you blame me for taking what they will no longer need after I send them to the abyss?”

The girl shrugged. She pulled the blankets above her nose.

“Will they try to hurt me again? I don’t like it when people do that.”

Qurrah offered her his hand, and was not at all surprised that she shrunk back from it. She had slipped into her childlike state. She seemed more like a six-year-old girl than the young woman she really was.