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"A two day walk and a half day pegasus ride," she says with a hint of a smile as she walks in the lead, making no attempt to slow their brisk pace. The people behind her have to keep up or be left behind. Nobody has asked the elf for her name, so she takes the lack of inquiry as a sign of disinterest about her identity. "It's only a small scoop of the real hoard, perhaps a few chests full of coins. It's Glenn's map, so unless he says otherwise, it will be split one or three ways." One of the four hadn't made it to the strawberry blonde's calculations for splitting the booty. But who? And why?

In Jez's study of Zamora's face, she'll find the elf's face, body language, and eyes often telling different and contradicting emotions, as if she's torn between three or more natures at all moments. Currently her gaze is full of a memory, tone of voice strictly informative, her face excited, and body moving with purpose, like she's running to a long awaited finish line. Though she answers questions as they go, her pace never once falters.

By the end of the day the elf glances idly at a spot of flat earth in the trees, nods, and reaches into her shirt to pull something by her collarbone. Though it's impossible for anything to be there, she digs out three sleeping rolls, a water skin, and pot. "One of you make a fire, the other will fetch water." She says to the men. "Go hunt three rabbits," is stated to Jez, but only if she still has a trio behind her. If not, then someone will be given more work.

"Yeah, right away, but I don't think I caught your name," Jez said. "What do you call yourself, miss?" Typically, when someone introduces herself, you're supposed to return the favor. A lot of things were just different about Zamora, but how she shrouded herself in mystery was nothing new to Jez. She'd been among elves before; unless it was between their own kind, most of them told people as little personal information as possible. Still, sometimes Jez couldn't help but let it get under her skin, enough that, though she was thoroughly impressed by Zamora's 'appearing act,' she made no comment.

Catching rabbits wouldn't be too much of a problem for Jez, even if she only had a knife to do it - it would just take a little while. Despite this, she didn't hurry off right away to start. She wanted to trail whoever went for the water to have a private conversation, and trying to persuade a proper introduction out of Zamora was an easy way to stall.

Glenn was fit, so didn't much mind the brisk pace the wood elf set, but within a few hours he was sorely missing the lunch he and Grain had skipped out on to chase after Zamora.

Still, supper was momentarily forgotten when he watched her produce the items from under her shirt as if by ... magic!

"How'd you do that?" he blurted out, looking at her shirt with a mix of astonishment and suspicion. "Did you have those the whole time?" He picked up one of the bedrolls, as if to see of was indeed real.

Grain looks at the items as the elf tosses them down.
“I’ll gather the wood and start the fire.Then help whoever needs it.”Grain turns and gathers kindling and chunks of wood.Being observant of everything he comes across.
The fire wood comes easily as multiply branches lay about. Applying pressure to snap some of them into smaller chunks. Grain gathers enough to last into the morning. An hour had passed scince Grain began his fire wood adventure.
Leaving his stack several feet away from the make shift fire pit Grain sat a few pieces of wood cross ways then the kindling ,putting some dry grass and dead leaves he begins to spin a stick on the wood. Smoke slowly flows up Grain gently blows till the fire comes to life.
He sticks a few more of the kindling pieces on,” hows the water and rabbits comeing along?”

"Zamora Swift," she introduces, following Jez's introduction by adding a surname. The elf hands the pot to Glenn, since Grain has given himself fire duty. "There's a rune stitched into my shirt that connects to the place where my things are." She explains. Even before the words are fully out of her mouth she walks off to scrounge some wild herbs and spices for the soup.

Everyone is left to their tasks. Like Grain, she returns within an hour with a thick handful of wild onions, chives, mushrooms, and a few cloves of garlic. A net hammock is pulled from her shirt next. Zamora goes about tying it up while she waits for the pot's return. As soon as it comes back, she'll add her contribution to the night's soup.

Glenn glanced at Jez, then at Grain, amazed that they seemed wholly unimpressed by the magic. Was he the only one never to have seen such a thing before?! He gulped, feeling suddenly very much like the country hick that he was as he took the pot, tan cheeks reddening noticeably. "Oh..."

As the wood elf walked off he tried to make sense of her explanation. Rune in her shirt connecting to where her things were... as if it were most trivial thing in the world.

He huffed, not liking to feel foolish, then started away from their campsite, heading downhill in hopes of finding water.

Grain looks up realizing it was only him and the first elf in the camp. Grain stood up ,” is there something else we need?.”
Grain looked to the fire as it let out a nice crackle. Then started to scan the surrounding area looking for Glenn’s trail.

Glenn will easily be able to hear the soft churning of the river less than three hundred yards from their chosen campsite. The fire will have plenty of fodder, as there is plenty of natural litter such as leaves and branches laying about. The sun begins to settle downwards, its light leeching through the lowest branches of the trees. It shouldn't take the man too long to lug the pot back up the slight hill.

The elf slides her prizes onto a flat rock as she sets her hammock up, her eyes distant and thoughtful as her hands automatically go about tying knots. "Not unless you're planning on being attacked tonight," Zamora responds to Grain with a startlingly sweet smile along with her morbid words. Once she's finished her task, the well made net droops in a lazy arc and she slips into the embrace gracefully.

((Thanks for the gentle reminder! ))

By the time he returned with the water, Glenn had managed to forget some of his earlier embarrassment and was even whistling with the excitement of the whole venture. Zamora had even mentioned a pegasus ride! He had ridden old farm horses plenty, but had never even seen a pegasus. He was not entirely certain they were actually real and desperately hoped the elf was not in jest. But he resolved not to ask, lest he look like an unworldly hick again.

"Jez not back yet?" he looked around, not seeing the second elf. It was not until it began to grow dark that Glenn seemed worried, both about dinner and about the girl herself. "You think she just changed her mind bout going along?"

"Grain lit himself on fire and Jez was eaten by a pack of wolves," she says in all seriousness, hoping that she might be able to pull his leg. Assuming he believes her, she can't help but break out in a grin and begin to chuckle. "I don't know," she admits, her shoulders lifting in an absent shrug. Both of their mats were still at the ready; should either return. For now, the wood elf claims Grain's abandoned mat for her seat and gestures beside her. Whether she means beside her or not is up for him to decide. The herbs and garlic are added to the water and boiled over the stew. Still under the belief that Jez will return with some meat, the elf doesn't worry about their current lack of protein. She allows the water to simmer in silence. If Glenn tries to break it, she'll quiet him with a gentle shake of her head.

Sunset is swift to come. Once the bright star in the sky is gone other, weaker lights twinkle into existence. Zamora tends to the fire with a low, musical hum in her throat to some song likely unknown to the region. Above the duo, stars glisten, the fire crackles, and insects sing their sweet night song. The atmosphere is comfortable and perfect for a night of getting to know one another over a steady set of embers. Her hair appears almost ginger in the red and yellow light, her eyes still as vibrant as ever. If Glenn has her eyes on her, even for a quick glance, she'll look over and offer the fellow a playful smirk. Only then will she allow conversation. "It's rare that I get such fine company. You're so fresh to the world, it's like I'm seeing things in a new light."

The tall youth took an awkward seat next to Zamora and several times looked as though he wanted to say something, each time silenced by only a look from the wood elf. His stomach, on the other hand, would not be silenced so easily and grumbled several times in demand.

"It's rare that I get such fine company. You're so fresh to the world, it's like I'm seeing things in a new light."

His cheeks colored slightly, both from the compliment and from being called 'fresh' and he wondered how old she was. Elves lived longer than humans, right? Maybe she was already old enough to be his mother...

"Do you have children?" he blurted out the thought before he could catch himself.

Since it's steadily becoming clear to her that something is wrong, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out chunks of elk jerky nuggets. The elf prefers not to use her own food, but sometimes it can't be helped. She adds them while Glenn takes the time to consider her words. "I don't have any children. Do you?" The question is turned back, showing her interest in return. Within moments she chuckles. "You humans are so odd, to ask questions like that. I don't understand what that could mean."

To make him blush more, she decides to throw out a theory. "Is that your way of asking if I'm a maiden?" The forest around them rings with the typical sounds of birds and insects. Quiet whooshing tells of an owl diving to end a mouse's life. Crickets chirp, aiming to attract a mate. Fireflies do the same, but by flashing their luminous bulbs to lure the ladies in. One lands on Zamora's hair, though she fails to notice. It had all the makings of a perfect evening.

Until a loud, unearthly scream permeates the air. A wolf's howl follows immediately afterwards. The full moon shifts in the sky to shine directly over the duo's clearing, hinting at just what their first obstacle will be.

"No, I don't... I didn't mean...I just..." Glenn fumbled for words, still intimidated by the elf's exotic looks. "I thought elves live a long time, so was wondering how..."

He was saved from further awkward explaining by the terrible scream and jumped to his feet immediately, positioning himself between the sounds of the wolf howl and Zamora, as if he would protect her, even though all he had for a weapon was his knife. "JEZ!" he yells, assuming the scream was hers.

There was never any hesitation, no thought of running away while one of his companions in this venture may be in trouble. He grabbed one of the half-burned sticks from the fire to use as a club and started rushing in the direction of the commotion.

The elf hears the scream. She doesn't try to rush into battle, but frowns and figures it's all ready too late. Glenn grabs a stick and looks just about ready to charge into battle. "I wouldn't," she warns. Zamora uses her magic and attempts to stop him with her telekinesis. He'll be lifted ever so slightly and likely unable to touch his feet to the ground, no matter how hard he tries.

"For all my talents, even I wouldn't fare well in a werewolf attack. You'll have a better luck teaching that hungry beast to play fetch than doing any damage with that stick." The moon that had been so sweet before had turned into a nightmare.

If he insists on going, the woman will stand and rush off with him, though her preference is clearly to stay behind and not have to fight for their lives. Should the duo move off to the darkness, they won't find a wolf, but clothes so ripped and covered with blood that it's impossible to establish whose they had been. No body is found; perhaps it was eaten, or the unlucky soul had managed to escape. The sector of forest is so torn up by the fight that no clear track can be made out.

Another howl echoes, this one far closer than before and deafening. Two yellow eyes are seen in the darkness of the trees, a full seven feet off the ground.

"We can't just leave them!" Glenn insists, feet moving wildly in the air as he tries to touch the ground. When she releases him back to the earth, he doesn't heed her warning, but goes rushing toward the scene of the attack, long strides quickly eating away the short distance.

He plows into the torn up clearing with all the elegance of a bull in a china shop, looking around desperately for any sign of someone to help. But the shredded clothes and blood tell a grim tale in the moonlight. "JEZ! GRAIN!" he yelled. But his cry was met with the howl and he looked up into the yellow eyes of the werewolf.

His (foolish?) bravery faltered only slightly and he met the beast's gaze, his own eyes full of rage for the supposed slaying of his companion. "Foul beast!" he cried and threw the still smoldering stick like a javelin at the wolf.

Bounding from tree to tree the young elf closed on the source of the howls. She was one with the wind her cloak fluttering behind her. She came to the clearing and watched the young human trow the smoldering stick at the abomination.
She admired his bravery but despaired at his foolishness. Not wanting to allow what could be a noble heart be stilled she dropped be side the beast allowing the moonlight to glint off of her naked blade.
"Leave him be wolf-kin."

This were is a type of bipedal beast, not the quadruped of a not so distant relative. It growls at Glenn, blood dripping from its maw. The brute drops down to all fours, curving its spine in preparation to leap at its new prey. The stick is thrown and it hits against the were's nose, but all that does is serve to enrage the wolf. He howls with pain and shakes his head to and fro. Only a moment later, Rypa drops down beside the enraged canid, who turns at once and aims to snap her leg with bone-crushing force.

Zamora looks up as she runs through the forest, catching sight of something in the trees. A torch is thrown, the stranger drops and lands. All hell breaks lose. The strawberry-blonde slides her hand down to her dagger, but finds she doesn't have a clear shot.

For a moment, Glenn thought the newcomer was Jez and felt a small bit of relief that she hadn't been eaten by this monster. But it was short lived as the young elf spoke and he did not recognize the voice.

As the wolf shakes his head, Glenn draws the only other weapon he carries: his hunting knife. As it tries to bite Rypa's leg, Glenn plunges the blade toward the beast's chest with all the strength he can muster.