Furley

The only upside to their near frantic pace, was that Davamir could not make nearly as many annoying jokes. She was certain that, when given the opportunity, he would absolutely make a great many jabs at Furley's idiocy.

"Missus Brushwood?"

There was no answer from within the cabin.

(OOC: I read this while listening to this music piece, and as long as you read it somewhat slowly, it works beautifully. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v5zFnGRaO0E )

“Well, maybe I’m no different, but neither are you. The question is, what do we do about it?”

Davamir was looking at Dru expectantly; not doubting, at least visibly, that she had some manner of plan.

The night passed quickly for Dru. She managed to catch some sleep...or rather, that thin veil of sleep one has when their ears are searching for the slightest anomaly.

Some time had passed since her letter was delivered. Daphne did not know what she hoped for with that effort. She knew that she had been trying to tell Furley she hadn't abandoned him, but what did she expect him to do with that knowledge?

The hoot of an owl nearby both frightened Dru inexplicably, and snapped her out of her stupor. She lifted a shaking hand to wipe away the cold layer of sweat from her face.

Davamir and Furley had been bantering and picking on each other as if they were siblings, for what felt like months now. It was usually Dav who crossed a line and would need to be put back in his place, but for the most part they managed to keep themselves somewhat in line.

They had made some headway in finding at least some of the larger band of brigands. Dru had been hoping to get one to talk, preferably with a bribe. But she would not shy from harder methods, either.

"Excuse me, what?!" Daphne watched as the wine she'd been drinking dripped down Harold's face. She worked very hard not to mention that the wine was his colour, as he wiped it off in annoyance.