Negotiations
Ciron stared across the tent in quiet apprehension. His gaze was met by eyes bright with fear and ferocity in equal measure. His intended mate was pressed against the opposite canvas wall, covered in dirt, bruises, and scuffs. The many layers of silk she wore were in similar repair, torn and caked in dried mud. She hadn't moved an inch since seeing him - save for baring her teeth in a vicious snarl. He hadn't moved either, not since the tent flaps closed behind him. They were alone, and if there was anyone outside, he hadn't heard a single sound from them. Was anyone listening? Was this some kind of test? Ciron swallowed, and then, as slowly as possible, took a step forward. "STAY AWAY!" the mirror shrieked, recoiling and pressing against the tent wall. Ciron froze, not wanting to provoke her even more. He slowly craned his neck forward as far as he could, then whispered: "can you hear me?" No response. He tried again, a bit louder this time. "Listen, I don't want to hurt you. I don't want anyone to hear me. My name is - " "I know your name," the mirror interrupted harshly - but quietly as well. "Uh, right - listen, I'm not like my - I'm not like them," he stammered, nodding back toward the tent flap. He took another step forward, keeping as quiet as possible. "I'm trying to help everyone... get out of here. Everyone who wants to anyway." "Hey, don't - " the mirror's voice peaked and she paused, then continued, matching his whisper. "Stay away from me. Why should I trust you?" "I..." Ciron sighed. "I mean, I wouldn't either. But I don't think you don't have any better options here." The mirror briefly looked downward, focusing on her talons before glaring back at him. "If you just stick near me, everyone else will leave you alone," Ciron said. "And in time, I can try to get you home." "How?" she asked, still in a terse whisper. "It depends on how things go," he evaded. "We just have to wait for the right opportunity. "What's your name?" "It's Peony," she replied. She seemed to slump somewhat upon saying it. "Okay, Peony, will you come with me for now?" he asked. "I'll introduce you to Pox and the hatchlings." "You have kids?" she asked flatly, slowly stepping toward him. "They're, uh, adopted," Ciron said before turning and nodding toward the tent flaps. "Okay, just follow me."
------------------------------- Onward Edan looked through each packed bag, checking for food, waterskins, bandages, and everything else each and every one of his group would need. Reika had already gone over all their equipment several times, repeating her confidence in her craftsmanship all the while. It was easy for him to see her worry through the bravado, but there was no point in mentioning it. He was scared, as well. His clan was splitting roughly in half for the journey; with the bulk of the most skilled warriors coming with him, and the others staying back to look after the homestead. He'd made it clear that nobody had to join him, but there was no shortage of volunteers regardless. Unsurprising when so many of his clan members had grown up alongside Ciron, and knowing the things his birthclan was capable of. The mirror grit his teeth, buckling the last of the satchels shut and setting them by the door. They were as ready as they could be. They'd leave tomorrow.