Chapter 24

So sorry for the long wait! Went to Okee music fest, work, camping, family, etc so I've been very busy. To say I'm sorry here is an extra long chapter, enjoy!!!!

The forest is dark, with little moonlight to light the trodden path. Thankfully Channing thought to bring a torch and leads us through the dark woods. The rain has ceased, leaving the air heavy and damp. We've yet to speak out loud though the twins have shared a few silent words with their hands. From the corner of my eye I notice Rory steals glances at me periodically. Sighing, I turn to look at him and notice how the torch casts strange shadows across his face. "Are you alright?" I ask, "Did they hurt you?"

Rory looks away and shrugs before scratching his thick beard. "I'm fine. They smacked me around a few times and sang about what they would do to me but it never happened thanks to you." His dark eyes fixate on my own before he looks ahead, focusing on Markus who is about five paces in front of us. "They knew about Beth Ann though. I cared more about their threats towards her," he adds. "Got a split lip because of it."

Chewing the inside of my cheek, I nod as I share his worry. The women shouldn't be apart of this, we only happened across them making them our wards. "I'm sorry I didn't come sooner," I apologize. "We had to think of a plan, one that had the best chances of getting those involved out alive. We didn't even know they had taken you till the following morning."

He gives a nod. "I bet Morgan was pissed at you, huh?" he asks and we both chuckle.

"Aye. He's probably wide awake in a tiff as if he's mother," I say, earning another laugh. We then fall back into silence, each lost in thought. He still glances at me from time to time and I can tell he has more to say but has his reservations. "What is it?" I ask, pulling my damp shirt away from my skin. A fresh set of clothes and a warm meal is beckoning me.

Rory looks at me for a long moment, his body slightly swaying atop his horse. "Don't think too hard about what she said." I go to open my mouth to respond but he gives his head a shake and continues. "It doesn't take a genius to guess what she wanted to talk about with you. When I first saw her after I arrived at their camp she slapped me across the face and muttered your name before storming off," he says.

Tilting my head back, I look up at the stars through the forest canopy. "Sorry about that," I offer, though it comes off empty. It's clear she did it thinking it would serve as some sort of revenge for my actions. "I don't really feel like talking about it, Rory," I sigh. It's been a long and exhausting day and I'd rather not have to think about the consequences of my own actions so soon."

"Fine. I'll talk and you listen," he states. "I'm not saying that you were right to not marry that girl. Hell, I would have probably done the same but thankfully I'm a second son and don't have the responsibility as you do," he begins, guiding his horse around a fallen branch before rejoining me by my side. Channing and Markus seem to have given us a slightly wider gap to allow our conversation more privacy. "I know you feel guilty, but no one blames you. I've never once heard the men mention the reason why we are here other than to fight for Paevia."

I want to tell him that the reason he hasn't heard talk about my choice is because they aren't idiots. Besides, Rory is as big as a bear and would be able to change topics as soon as they noticed him.

"I wouldn't have been the first royal forced into an arranged marriage. Many have done it in the past--why couldn't I have just made the best of my situation?" I ask rhetorically. "Because I'm a selfish person, I suppose."

Rory scoffs at this. "You also aren't the first person to want a halfway decent looking wife," he says, trying to lighten the mood. "I mean honestly, I've taken shits that looked better than her."

Smirking, I turn to my brother and shake my head. "Enough. She isn't that bad. You've been with women far worse than her."

He chuckles and gives a shrug. "Aye. But those were some cold winter nights so who could blame me?" he asks. "Anyways my point is is that it's going to be okay. If we die we die, if we live even better. I'll fight for Paevia till I no longer have the strength and I wouldn't have a single regret or wish that you would have chosen differently. And I could bet my last coin that the men feel that way as well."

It is true that there always has been camaraderie amongst the soldiers of Paevia for as long as I can remember. Most armies treat their role as a job to climb their way out of poverty, or perhaps they just didn't want to follow in their father's footsteps of farming. Regardless of their reasonings, the men that enlist to fight for Paevia do so with pride and come out of their first month of training as brothers. But is their devotion to Paevia--to me--dwell deep enough that they would blindly go to battle for a mistake that I made? I do not know. I guess at this point it's too late anyways.

Tracing my tongue over the rough edges of my molars, I give my head a shake. "I don't want to talk about this anymore, Rory. Let's just get back and get some sleep. Tomorrow morning we'll rally and I'll let the men know of the battle plan."

Rory gives an audible grunt. "Fine," he pauses, "I am sorry for running off like that though. It's no secret that I'm not the best at handling my emotions" he says softly. "When you told me he was gone I...well I just can't believe it. Still don't in a sense. The past twenty-four hours have seemed like a bad dream, one that I can't wake up from."

"I know the feelin," I offer. "We can mourn for father properly when we return home, okay?" I say, turning to him. He gives a solid nod and we remain silent for the duration of our return. When light from our camp's torches appear, a wave of relief washes over me and I feel that it is easier to breathe. When one of our scouts come across us he asks if she should blow his horn to signal our return.

"Let them sleep," I say. "Spread word that we will rally tomorrow after breakfast," I instruct.

Arriving through the gates, we dismount from our horses and I feel my legs protest as I make contact with the earth. Turning to Markus and Channing, I shake each of their hands. "I owe you great thanks. At the end of all this I'll see to it that you are compensated handsomely."

Markus grins but waves me off. "It was an honor, Thomas. If you ever need anything please let us know," he says. Channing then says something with his hands and I wait for Markus to translate. "He said he had fun," he says with a chuckle. I laugh and watch them as they make their way to their tents, curious as to what time it is when suddenly I feel a strong hand grip my bicep.

Turning around I see Morgan has a hold on both me and Rory, his eyes angry in the dim light of camp. "I've already chewed out one Carlyle today so now it's your turn," he says, looking at Rory and releasing my arm. "Do you have any idea how ignorant it was to run off by your lonesome like that?!"

Rory shrugs off Morgan's grip before shaking his head."With all due respect Morgan, I'm not in the mood for one of your hidings. I've been held in a cage with my own piss, beaten, and I just lost my father. Can't it wait until tomorrow?" he protests.

Not having the energy to stand around and listen to their conversation, I dismiss myself silently and make my way to my own quarters, hoping that Claire is there waiting for me. It takes me a few minutes to navigate through camp and when my tent comes into view I let out a sigh. Light emits underneath the cracks of the entrance and I quicken my pace. With one hand I push through the canvas and see Claire curled into a ball on top of my bed, still wearing the clothes from the day. Perhaps she didn't want to make assumptions that she would be staying the night.

Pursing my lips, I decide not to wake her. We can talk tomorrow after all preparations have already been made. Walking over to my chest, I peel off the damp clothing from my body and slip into something dry, being careful to not make a sound. Balancing my sword against the table, I bend over and unlace my boots. Slipping on a large tunic, I allow it to fall freely as it reaches my bare thighs. Satisfied, I climb into bed and try to cover myself with my blanket, but with Claire's weight resting on the majority of it I only get a sliver of the cloth. I don't mind though, and when I realize that she herself might be chilly, I sit up and grab the other side of the blanket before draping it over her form. She stirs and lets out an exhale, causing her warm breath to caress my face.

Turning on my side, I study her face inscribing it to memory. Her soft features such as the curve of her nose and lips compliment her angular ones such as her cheekbones, the arch of her brows. I note how her lower lip sticks out in a pout and is heavier than her top lip, forming a soft cupid's bow. The bridge of her nose is slightly even and fluxuates. Her imperfections I find make her perfect, such as the slight crowding of her bottom teeth or the pale scar on her forehead that she must have acquired from the pox. I want to reach out and brush my fingers against her skin but I refrain. The thought occurs to me that this moment will not last forever--either we lose the war and my life ends or we win and I'll have to drop her off at her new abby on the way back to Paevia. "Maybe she won't want to go back?" I think to myself before giving my head a slight shake. No. Father Anthony, if he's even still alive, will see to it that Claire remains apart of the Church.

Frowning, I close my eyes. Why do I care so much? She's just another woman is she not? "You know she's more than that," I think. I then begin to have an internal debate with myself. "You'd lay down your life for her in a moment." True, but I'd lay down my life protecting anyone, that's what a soldier does. "That's not what you meant." Isn't it? I'd been trained my whole life to save and fight for those he cannot themselves which is how I met her in the first place. "You love her." Love? Sure I have love for her as a person and I admire her inward beauty and the way she views the world with compassion, but love? There are romantic feelings involved that I'll admit to having, yes. I've explored thoughts of her making a good wife--not just to me but to any man--but she'd have to give up her vows that she holds sacred. I care about her, and she has become important to me...but do I love her?

I've only loved one woman, and she ran off with my heart and valuables from my dresser drawer a years ago. I gave her parts of me that I've never let anyone else have and she threw it away as if it meant nothing.

"Claire wouldn't do that," I think, pushing all thoughts of my past lover from my mind. Realizing I've gone off on a tangent, I redirect my thoughts to the original question: do I love her?

I enjoy her company when she is around. She calms me when she is in my presence. I'm attracted to her. She's secretly funny when she's grown comfortable enough to joke around you. She's brave, and a fierce friend. Witty. Tenderhearted. She tries not to judge people. She isn't vain and often puts others before herself. All of these qualities I strive to have and she's made me want to be a better person. Thoughts of Claire sharing these parts of herself with anyone immediately brings a wave of jealousy over me and I begin to despise the man my mind has conjured.

I would do anything for her if she asked me to the best of my ability, and without question. I'm infatuated with her, but love? Perhaps not yet, but feelings as deep as those are on the horizon the more we spend time together.

I then begin to wonder what life will be like after this war and I drop her off. Would we keep in touch by letter until slowly we stop writing as our lives carry on? I'll have my coronation and perhaps one final ball to find a wife, and I'll settle on whichever girl I can stand the most. "You could ask Claire to join you. You'll never know what she'll say unless you do. You'll probably always wonder 'what if'."

Exhaling, I roll over, turning my back towards Claire's sleeping form. As much as I may want to, that would be selfish and I'm tired of being selfish.

Exhausted from the day sleep finds me easily. When I awake, I can tell that it's late morning based on the lighting that makes its way into the tent. Sitting up, I rub my eyes and chastise myself for sleeping in. Looking over I see that Clarie is gone, most likely helping James with whatever he is serving for breakfast. Standing up I give a good stretch and begin to dress, slipping on a fitted white shirt and a pair of black trousers. After slipping my boots on I take a handful of mint leaves and begin to chew them before rinsing my mouth with water from my waterskin. Glancing at my reflection, I run a hand over the dark stubble that has sprouted on my chin and decide to leave it. "I have bigger things to worry about how I'll look tomorrow."

With my stomach growling I head outside and make the walk towards the rest of my men who have gathered to eat. Every table is full and many men sit in groups on the ground forming circles while others stand by the fire pit. Acknowledging a few with a nod of my head I join the short line for food and wait my turn. In moments James is already handing me a bowl of lukewarm porridge. "Where's Claire?" I ask him, noticing that only Beth Ann and Darla aid him with breakfast.

He gives me a shrug, "I think her and a few of the others went off to the river to wash. Here, take some more," he says, scooping another large spoonful into my bowl. "You'll need it."

Giving him my thanks, I turn and scan a table for an empty seat but find none. Warren and Max lean against two pine trees in the rear and I decide to join them.

"Morning," I greet, popping a serving of porridge into my mouth.

Max raises a blonde brow at me. "Morning. I see Rory is back with us. How'd you manage that?" he asks curiously.

Smirking, I take another bite. "Sometimes your tongue can be sharper than a double-edged sword. It doesn't always have to resort to violence," I reply.

Warren gives a chuckle. "Aye. Like that one time we ran across a group of slavers from Rorik, back before Rose had met Santiago. We were what, seventeen?" he asks and I grin, nodding my head as I recount the memory. Warren and I had set out on our first solo hunting trip and took it upon ourselves to try and hunt large game: moose, bear, wolves, we didn't care. Young, dumb, and full of testosterone we were eager to prove ourselves to our fathers. After getting permission to be gone for a few weeks we traveled north and was able to take down a good size bear when a group of wayward slavers came across us. Almost taking our kill along with the two of us, I was able to convince them to only taking the bear stating that if a grizzly was no match for two seventeen year old boys, then certainly we could take five middle-aged men.

"So I hear you have an announcement for us?" Warren asks, finishing up his breakfast.

Nodding my head, I take another bite. "I do. Tomorrow is the day we meet them on the battlefield," I state. They share a look with one another though I cannot say it is a worried one. As I finish my food, I relay the previous night's events to them, leaving out the part about Samantha. Not that I do not trust them, but because I'm still ashamed of myself.

"I have faith that we'll win," Warren answers. "It'll be costly as they have the numbers but they cannot deny that we have better armor and are more skilled." At this I nod. Bulga has always been one of the poorer kingdoms, and half of their men still wear hide armor. Even so, I still worry about the fact that they outnumber us almost three-to-one.

"Aye," is all I say. I finish up my breakfast and listen to the two of them chat about what they plan on doing on our return home. When I'm finished eating, I wave to them goodbye, drop my bowl off to be washed, and note that all men seem to be waiting patiently for me. Swallowing, I stand up on top of a table and allow my men to circle me. Seeing as how the mass of bodies stretch pretty far back, I do my best to speak as loudly as I can.

"Tomorrow we will meet the Bulgins on the battlefield and put an end to this war, one way or another" I begin. I then begin to relay last night's events once again before explaining the jist of our battle plans. When I'm done, I instruct them to get with their Captains after this so they can go into more detail what each regiment will be doing. "I want a large hunting party in the woods today so we can take down what game we can and have a proper dinner tonight as there won't be breakfast in the morning. If you can help James cook, please do. All hands on deck today men. That being said, you are allowed no more than one tankard of ale tonight. Paevia needs your mind agile for tomorrow. I refuse to have a single man take a blade to the belly because of a hangover. If I find out that any of you were bested by a Bulgin because ale I'll find a way to bring you back to life just so I can run you through myself," I threaten which earns many laughs. "After our victory we can drink more then, aye?"

"AYE!" They shout in response.

I give my hands a casual clap. "Alright, you're free to go about your duties. Try and get some rest tonight if you can. Seek out Noah if you need aid to help you fall asleep. There's no shame in being nervous the night before war," I say. They then disperse and begin to seek out their assigned Captians.

Hopping down from the table I am thankful that I'm not bombarded with a wave a questions from anxious minds. Seeing as that my schedule is free for today I decide that I'd help with hunting. Retrieving my bow from my tent, I sling it across my chest and grab my quiver and game bag before seeking out Claire. I'm somewhat bothered I haven't gotten the chance to talk to her since the night before and I'd at least like to say hello. After asking around, I'm told she is at the stables so I make my way over and see that she and a few of the other women help with feeding.

When her eyes meet mine she breaks out into a wide grin and I feel myself do the same. Darla glances between the both of us as smirks.

"Hunting?" she asks me when I'm closer. She wears a familiar pale green shirt that compliments her strawberry blonde hair which is french braided into a single braid that falls down her back. Her trousers are too large for her and she keeps them tied up with a rope.

"Is that my shirt?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She blushes and gives a nod. "Beth Ann and a few others are still at the river working on laundry for the men and we decided to do our own clothing in as well. I figured you wouldn't mind."

Giving a smirk, I pat the horse she feeds a bucketful of barley. "I suppose it looks better on you anyways."

Fighting off a smile, she tucks a few strays of hair behind her ear and looks away. "I'm glad you made it back safely," she offers. "Busy day today?"

Pursing my lips I shrug a shoulder. "Not really, actually. No official duties so I figured I'd help where I could," I say.

Claire chews on the inside of her lip for a moment before pulling the new empty bucket from the horse. "And what about later? Tonight, I mean," she asks shyly as she glances up at me.

Tilting my head to the side a half-smile creeps up onto my face. "Why?" I have a feeling what she is leading up but I enjoy watching her squirm.

Her cheeks flush a shade pink as blushes and her eyes quickly dart away before finding mine again. "Um, I heard that tomorrow you all will be going off and...well I'd like to be able to spend some time together--just the two of us. If you're too busy I understand of course, it was silly of me to even ask really."

Stepping forward, I grab her chin gently. "I'd like nothing more than that," I say. "I'll find you tonight after dinner if I don't see you again." She bites her bottom lip and gives me a nod. I place a soft kiss on her forehead, resisting the urge to explore her lips. "See you," I say before heading off into the woods behind the stables.

It takes me a while to find a fresh game trail, and when I see the familiar hooved tracks of a deer and follow its path. I walk for about twenty minutes until it leads me to a more swamp like area. Knowing the dangers that may lurk, I ready my bow and carefully tread through the area. Bugs fly around swarming small areas that I try to avoid. The deer tracks have disappeared into the brown murky water and most likely exited through the other side. Wildlife of all sorts are present--large birds that sway high above in the cyprus trees, bullfrogs that dive into the water when I get too close, and the occasional cotton mouth that sunbathes. I'm about to turn around when I notice a large alligator nest about twenty feet ahead, it's mother nowhere in sight.

Typically, these nests have thirty or forty eggs. If it were just me and the men I took back to Paevia it would be worth it to collect them, but it would provide little food for few thousand men in my charge. But then again, food is food and every bit counts when you are trying to supply supper for a war camp. I look around one last time for any signs of the gator and creep forward slowly. I then quickly fill my game bag, grabbing handfuls at a time. Having robbed the nest successfully, I turn around and head back into the forest away from the swamp.

When I'm back in the pines, I decide to stash the eggs while I continue to hunt not wanting them to break. Finding a recognizable tree I lay them at it's base and hope that no animal comes across it. For the next two hours I set snares and scour the woods ending up with a large fox and seven rabbits. Satisfied, I return to my game bag pleased that the eggs were left undisturbed and put what rabbits I can fit inside. With the fox over my shoulder I get a good hold on the rabbits ears and head back to camp. While I do, I try to think of ideas for tonight. Claire had mentioned she wanted to stargaze again and a plan slowly forms in my mind. When I come across a small blueberry bush I pick it clean and fill my pockets, making sure to save them for the two of us later.

By the time I get back to camp I'm a sweaty mess and head directly to James to give him my spoils. A few hunting parties must have already returned as four turkeys are stacked on top of his table while a deer hands from a hook, waiting to be dressed. He nods approvingly and relieves me of the fox first, giving the air a sniff. "I've always hated the way these things smell," he says and I'd have to agree.

"Aye. Musk and piss I always have said," I say, handing over the rabbits. "Do you have something to put eggs in?" I ask, slipping off my game bag. He hands me a basket and I unload the rest.

"Believe it or not Gale came across a nest too," he says, tilting his head towards a leather satchel that I know to be his. "I think we're good. We still have quite a bit of cured meat and potatoes from Paevia and the rations for the return home are still untouched. I think we can have a proper feast tonight if someone manages another deer or two."

Grinning, I wipe sweat from my eye, catching a whiff of myself as I do. "I hope so. The men deserve one," I say. "Need help cleaning the animals?"

James brushes back his ashen hair from his eyes. "Sure if you have the time," he tells me. Pushing up my sleeves, I walk over to the mound of turkeys and begin plucking. As I do, we chat about simple things–such as our family back home and I listen to Jame's tips on cooking. He asks how my niece and nephew are doing and about Amiri and Laria, as the last time they visited the three of them had a night to remember at one of our taverns. When I finish with the turkeys I begin on the deer. When I'm halfway through cleaning it, Sven and a few of the other men bring back a good sized buck and a boar. Together, we clean our kills. As we do, Claire and the others begin preparing supper with James. We steal glances at each other every so often and each time she blushes.

When I've helped with what I can, I dismiss myself and head to my quarters to grab a fresh set of clothes and soap as a bath is heavily needed.

Reaching the river, I'm surprised to find it empty and welcome the solitude. Stripping naked, I wade into the cool water and begin to scrub myself clean of the day's grime and gore. Remembering my plans with Claire later this evening, I make sure to leave no spot untouched. I'm not expecting anything of her, but it would put a damper on things if I still smelled like a dead fox or had a buildup of dirt on my neck.

When I'm done, I allow the sun's heat to evaporate the water from my skin and stand there with my eyes closed taking a few peaceful moments for myself. Once dried, I put on a pair of burgundy trousers and black tunic before lacing up my leather boots. Glancing up at the sun, I realize we have only a few hours left of daylight so I make my way back to camp, round up my captains and we go over everything one final time. I come out feeling slightly more confident in our outcome than I did this morning but over the years I've learned that it's best not to make assumptions. When we are done, it's almost time for dinner so I spend the remaining of my time assessing our weapons with about fifty other men giving a few to be worked on to our blacksmith for last minute repairs.

With nothing else left to do, I join the men in the long line for supper and chat lively with those I stand next to. About forty men or so behind me stands Channing and Markus and I give them a wave. It's possible that this will be my last chance seeing them and I try not to dwell on that. Besides, Markus has proved himself more than capable with a sword, and Channing is not too far behind him when it comes to skill. The line moves slowly and by the time James hands me my bowl of food the sun has already set, casting a mixture of purple and red into the sky.

"Eat up, you earned it," James tells me, scooping up a ladle full of stew for the man behind me. I look down at my foods contents and it looks delectable. Meats swirl in a broth mixed with steamed potatoes and what I believe to be basil leaves. I give him my thanks and move down to where Claire and Beth Ann pass out slices of bread.

When she sees me she gives a grin and sticks out a slice. "I'd end up in the stocks if I were to forget to give bread to the king-in-waiting," she teases. Beth Ann gives a giggle.

She then hands me a slice and I take it, putting it in with my bowl. "No doubt. I just so happen to know the guy, perhaps I could get you out of trouble if need be" I say, sending her a wink. "Find me after?" I ask her, stepping forward to keep the line moving. As I do I grab a tankard of all from the large table.

She gives a nod. "I will," she says gently. "Some of the men have asked us to teach them of our faith after though. You wouldn't mind if we held a gathering, would you?"

This takes me aback but I shake my head. "No of course not," I answer honestly. It's normal for someone to question their beliefs on the eve of battle. "Just don't forget about me," I add.

She sticks out her hand and passes out another slice of bread. "That would be hard to do, your grace," she retorts. Smirking, I turn on my heel and seek out those that I'm closest to finding Rory, Gale, Nik, Sven, Warren, Max, and Morgan all at a far table by a fire sharing a laugh. As I make my way over they notice me and make room and I take my seat in-between Nik and Morgan.

"Hey Tommy," Warren greets as the others raise their tankards at me.

"You lot better be taking baby sips because that's it for tonight," I remind them.

"Come now, Tom, you can make an exception for us, can't you?" young Max asks while casting his best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

Crinkling my nose I give my head a shake. "First off don't ever do that again, you look more deformed than anything," i say, earning laughs. "Secondly, if anyone were to heed my words I think it would be you lot more than anything."

Max scoffs and waves me off while I dig into my dinner. The meat is tender and juicy as the potatoes pair nicely.

"We were just talking about what we're going to do to Lugo and his whoreson sister," Morgan says gruffly. "Perhaps keep it civil with a beheading? Or possibly a blood eagle if we're feeling sinister enough?" He then flips up his eyepatch and gives the skin underneath a scratch.

Rory and I share an uneasy look and I take another bite before swallowing. "We're leaving his sister out of this," I say. "She's done no wrong. As for Lugos, let's just hope he meets his fate on the battlefield and we won't have to make that decision."

Morgan gives me a hard look. "Tom they are the reason that many will die tomorrow on both sides. We need to let the Buglins know that we are not a country to be trifled with. After our victory they need to fear us. you know this."

Clenching my jaw, I narrow my eyes at him. "Enough Morgan. Everyone at this table know's why we are here and for that I am sorry," I say, looking around at each of their faces. "If Lugos still lives after the war is won, I will let him decide his fate."

Morgan looks away and shoves a spoonful of food into his mouth before muttering, "I doubt he would give you the same curtsey."

"Anyways," I say with a sigh, changing the subject. "I'd like to make a toast to those that sit here," I say raising my ale. "To the friends that are no longer with us," I begin as I always do. Any night before we have gathered before a war, we've repeated these words. At first we were just young lads not knowing how to really toast, but now that we're men they've become somewhat sentimental.

Rory then raises his, his words hitting closer to home this time, "To our mothers and our fathers."

Gale gives a grin ,"To ourselves as no one else will on our behalf."

Warren raises his, "To our king," he says with a wink.

Nik is next. "To our wives and sweethearts."

Finally comes Sven, "May they never meet!"

We then toss back our ale and drink, making sure to savor every drop. When we are done we slam the tankards down and Max lets out a belch, earning a round of laugher. For the rest of supper we reminisce on old times and enjoy each other's company as best as we can, but the truth of the matter is is that we all know none of us are promised to live through tomorrow.

When we are done, we drop our dirty dishes off and split off to enjoy the rest of the evening whatever ways we see fit. A large gathering of men have stuck around the dining area and wait for the women to begin teaching them of their faith while the rest have either gone to bed or now gather at fires throughout camp.

Darla is the first to speak, climbing on top of a table and begins to go over the basics of Christianity. Claire sits at the table she stands on and I can't help but to be reminded of her teachings to me as we traveled. As Darla speaks, the men listen intently, raising their hands to ask their questions. After about fifteen minutes I decide I better get things ready for tonight and I head to my tent. Once inside, I quickly begin to collect the items I will need, making sure to wrap the blueberries into a seperate cloth. "My eyes land on the bottle of win and I frown, wishing that I could pack that as well. Grabbing a canvas blanket, I roll it up and sit it down next to my satchel. Looking at myself in the mirror, I decide to wet my hands and slick back my hair before shoving a few mint leaves into my mouth for good measure.

Grabbing everything I packed, I make my way back to the dining area and I'm surprised to see that Claire is leading the men in prayer, their heads bowed and eyes closed. If I didn't know any better I would say that she is...what was the word she once used? Saving them?

When she finishes the men disperse silently, heading off into the night. I wait patiently or Claire and the other women to chat excitedly with each other before they all give Claire a pat on the back.

"You two did amazing!" Beth Ann tells Darla and Claire.

Claire blushes while Darla waves her off. Seeing my chance, I step forward. "Ready?" I ask.

They all glance down at the rolled of blanket and then my satchel before looking at Claire curiously. Her face deepens another shade of red and she gives a simple shrug. "Ready," she tells me.