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Mirima lay under her makeshift shelter waiting for the sun to set so that she could proceed with her journey. Some days she wondered why she ever ran away the village at the edge of the desert - this heat and thirst was just ridiculous. But she had figured out how to survive pretty well. It was the avoiding of bandits that was tough.

Suddenly, she noticed a cloud of dust arising to her east. It started out small then rapidly increased in size. Eventually it became obvious that the cloud was drawing nearer and headed almost exactly in her direction.

"Horses, most likely," she thought, "And probably either bandits on them or behind them."

She didn't have enough time to dismantle the shelter and hide in the rocks behind her back. She sighed heavily. Her cards would have to be played just right.

However, she soon realized that the horses were riderless. A few had saddles, which indicated they would be followed by someone shortly. Although not excited to be on friendly terms with a bandit gang, Mirirma decides it's better than the alternative.

Trying to find the leader in a herd of runaway horses was difficult, so instead she focused on the whole. Sure enough, there was a single chord that connected them. She spun her instrument from her back and began to play and sing. At first it was a wild and free melody in keeping with the runaways. However, it quickly calmed down to a peaceful ballad, and the herd came to a stop not too far away.

The horses were obviously tired from galloping in such heat. She grinned and walked down to pat their noises and see if any could be ridden back to their camp. If not, she'd simply wait for the owners to show up - presumably within a few minutes if they'd had any horses left.

The gag had worked its way loose enough for Grey to get in a retort and Cordell immediately brought his hand toward Grey's mouth, intent on fixing that, when the long knife seemed to come alive. Cordell jumped away from Grey and the knife with a curse. It seemed to him that his suspicions about the telekinetic ability being tied to Grey's voice had just been confirmed, not guessing that the man was actually controlling the knife with his foot.

He scrambled to pick up his club, suddenly a whole lot less cocky than he'd been a moment ago.

Marcelle laughed at Rook's words, much to the other bandits' surprise and fear because their leader only laughed when he was making a kill, but instead of burning Rook to a crips, Marcelle dismissed a few bandits to help Silveris take down Jez before grinning at Rook.

"I like you. Bleeding to death but still full of spunk. I don't suppose it runs in the family because the rest of your village was rather, what's the word, squeamish? I'm impressed, arrow girl. You gave Sampson a tough fight, although I'm afraid he's obsessed with killing you now. But I might still have use for you yet. I think you need a little patching-up, don't you think? As for Mr. Telekinesis..."

Marcelle motioned for one of his bandits to clean up Rook's injuries before heading out the tent towards the place where Cordell had carried Grey, dispatching the two bandits who still had their horses to look for their other mounts, which Rook had cut loose from before.

After a quick look at the horses, Mirima heads back to pack up her belongings as best as possible. Already she can see two small tufts of dust in the distance. Hiding is of little use since her footprints lead back and forth between the herd and her shelter. She places her bag across her body and resets her instrument across in the opposite direction. Her large cloak is picked up from the rocks where it had served all day as a tent covering and is placed back over her head and shoulders.

With the horses calmed down, she finds it much easier to pick out the leader of the herd - a large black stallion. She pulls two lumps of sugar from her bag and heads in his direction, humming pleasantly all the way. If negotiations with the presumed bandits go sour, at least she'll be able to have some control over the herd. She strokes his face and speaks to him in a gentle, lilting way while letting him feast on the goodies in her palm.

Grey rotated his ankle and the knife swerved between him and the bandit. Then he twitched his other foot and the gag tugged away from his face. He spat on the ground beside him.

"What have you done with Rook?" he demanded.

Crying out, Jez introduced her knee to Silveris's stomach to forcibly release his grip, but the damage had been done. Burned fabric falling away from her sleeves, several angry red burns were visible running up and down her skin. She fell to her knees, trying to pull a smile over teeth gritted in pain. "Guess I ought to watch my mouth on the battlefield," she said between shallow gasps. She bit back the urge to finish vocalizing her thought: should've expected you to get heated.

The world had begun sliding in and out of focus; seemed the burst of manic survivor energy had cost her more than she expected. Regardless, she turned her head up to Silveris to address him once more. A dozen more sarcastic remarks could've spilled out of her mouth, but in the end she only lifted her wrists up for him to tie. Lose with grace and you'll win another day, she told herself. And try not to scream when the ropes hit your burns.

Rook was slightly surprised to hear she was to be patched up. She certainly wasn't going to argue with that, even if the other use he had in mind for her might prove unpleasant, she'd just have to deal with that later.

She eyed the bandit that had been left in the tent with her ... apparently to tend her wounds. He might be able to tend the wound on her calf without untying her, but not the one on the back of her shoulder. "Nice boss you got there," she said to him, voice sounding weary, waiting to see if he'd untie her.

--

"Which one's Rook?" Cordell asked, holding his club defensively as he kept an eye on the floating knife. He caught site of their leader walking toward them and smirked again. Marcelle, he was sure, would put a quick end to this charade.

Silveris gasped as Jez's knee rammed into his stomach and he backed away, rubbing the bruise that he was sure was blossoming across his abdomen, but his fire touch seemed to have weakened the cloaked girl enough for her to surrender and he instantly gestured for the surrounding bandits to tie her wrists and bring her back to camp.

"Glad you finally noticed to keep your mouth shut. Because the next time you talk, I'll be sure to cut your tongue out."

Meanwhile, the bandit that had been left to tend to Rook's wounds stared at her uncertainly, a roll of bandages in one hand and a wet cloth in the other, although he supposed he was lucky he hadn't been assigned to take care of the intruder with magic, but he still thought it would be better if he had a bit of back up.

He jumped at Rook's voice, unsure of what to say.

Marcelle slipped into the tent to find Cordell and Grey facing off with each other, a knife hovering in the air between them and Cordell holding a club defensively, and the bandit leader stepped forward to stare at the two of them with a curious tilt of his head.

"Well, well. Look who we have here."

Some ways across the desert, away from all the commotion and the bandit-controlled oasis, the two bandit riders finally spotted their cluster of runaway horses and the figure standing next to the lead stallion, possibly feeding him something to make him so calm.

The bandits slowed their mounts to a trot and cautiously drew closer to the figure, drawing their swords in the process and glaring down menacingly at the girl, who was carrying an odd instrument along with a bag that the bandits wondered if they could steal.

Mirima can hear the two men approaching from behind and notices when they slow their horses. There is also the quiet, but distinct, sound of swords being drawn. Definitely bandits. She turns the large horse every so slightly to keep it between them and herself.

"Gentlemen." She swallows again and forces herself to smile to keep her voice even and pleasant before turning to face the bandits, "Your horses, I assume? Shame they've been running breakneck in this heat. Mighty fine thing that I was here to stop them. But if I'm honest, I'd be more at ease if you approached in a more neighborly fashion." She gestures with her eyes to the drawn swords.

Her voice trills along with a musical quality as she speaks, but it's impossible to really tell whether she's singing or if it's her accent or the manner in which she accentuates certain syllables. Whatever it is, it has a certain starry night sky feeling to it.

The bandits were surprisingly gentle with Jez, or at least she thought, considering she'd felled two of them in moments. Perhaps they thought the tightly bound ropes, scraping across the burns on her wrists each time they tugged her along, were punishment enough. They took her to the edge of their tents and shoved her in the closest one.

Jez landed on her side a foot or two from Rook and stayed there, eyes half open. Her eyes refused to adjust to the tent's darkness, so she just lay where she was, ready to keep up with whatever conversation she'd just unceremoniously interrupted by falling there.

((Guys I might not get on a lot because of school and that. So I might get on at 6:00 or 5:00 Something. Also, welcome Mirima ))

I was at camp still a prisoner. But like a bunch of prisoners just got here. Two prisoners were in a tent next to me. So pretty much I was a prisoner and no one could break me out unless.

So my plan was to ask a prisoner to get off the collar off of me but it was very strong so they needed to have something strong. And once I was free I'd round up the prisoners and well turn into a dragon and they'd on my backs and we'd escape. But the only was I had no wings and the bandits might shoot me down.

The bandits guarding my tent would leave and so I'd get up from my tent and look around outside if the coast was clear. It was clear. So I started to sneak into the neck next tent to me. I'd enter and see A woman and A woman with long brown hair and some armor. "So this might sound crazy but if you can take this collar off of me then I can turn into a dragon and we'd all be free, please?" I'd a plea to them with my hands in an amen symbol.

Rook watched the bandit's indecisiveness, precious seconds slipping away. He looked to be a few years younger than herself... just about the same age as Danny.

"I promise... I won't bite you," she said, closing her eyes and leaning her head back against the post again. Just for a few moments... she told herself, drowsiness threatening to claim her. She was on the verge of giving in to it when something.. no.. someone landed beside her.

The woman that had tried to come her aid. Now she was a prisoner too and it seemed at that moment to be Rook's fault. "I'm sorry," Rook said, though so quietly Jez might not even hear her.

My heart sank when she said, "Am sorry." I'd turn to go back to my tent.What went wrong? The bandits came back to there posts and well my plan failed. Then since I was so sad and well tired I went asleep.

Grey hesitated, wondering if it was a good idea to reveal Rook's name, especially now that the bandit leader had just stepped into the tent.
It won't matter now anyway, he told himself.
"The girl with the arrows," Grey growled. "And I swear, if she's dead, I'll kill every single one of you." He paused, then said, "Actually, let me rephrase. If any of the others are dead, I'll hang you in your own lassos."

"Don't mention it," Jez said raggedly. She tried to make eye contact with Rook, but she remained out of focus. "Wrong place at the wrong time." She made a feeble effort to sit up and look at the bandit in the tent with them. Best not to poke him for the time being.

The two bandit riders looked at each other, contemplating what to make of this strange, oddly musical girl, but the end result was clear, if they didn't return with the horses, Marcelle would have their heads and they would rather not be burned alive so one bandit got off his horse and snatched the rope that was tied to the stallion away from the girl.

"We don't have neighbors. And we'll be taking our horses, so get lost!"

Back at the bandit camp, Silveris glowered at the two bandits who had been standing guard at Mystic's tent, for he had seen the bandits leave the tent unguarded and he'd rather had enough trouble with prisoners for one day, so he strolled up to the guards and played with a flicker of fire in his hands.

"Don't leave your posts. We can't have that dragon-shifter corresponding with the other prisoners. The collar might be effective, but if he tries to leave this tent, feel free to stab him a couple of times."

As for the bandit who had been assigned to take care of Rook, his name was Myles and he decided he might as well get the job done or risk being yelled at, so he approached Rook cautiously, holding out the roll of bandages in his hands as an indication of his task and what he also hoped was a temporary peace treaty, just to make life easier for both of them.

Then a couple more bandits threw Jez into the tent and Myles recoiled slightly, sighing to himself at the extra work, extra danger, and extra chance of being killed in the process, but one glare from the older bandits told him not to complain about his work.

Marcelle smirked at Grey's threats.

"Ah, so all of you have spunk. That's good because the job I'm going to give you will require that kind of fire, both mentally and physically. But, now that we've got all of you rounded up, let's bring you out into the sunlight where I can see you."

Marcelle gave a low whistle and suddenly, every bandit in camp surged into the prisoner tents, waving their swords and yelling at the prisoners to get up and out into the center of the camp where Marcelle stood to wait for them, hands clasped behind his back.

Silveris came to stand by his leader's side.

Mirima laughs merrily at the bandit's command. "Get lost? As if I'm not already!" Her eyes sparkle from under her hood, but whether in merriment or mischief is impossible to tell.

As she continues, the tone of her voice remains the same, but somehow the sing-song of her voice reminds them of an icy blast. "Fine horse, that." She nods at the stallion. When the man tries to guide him back toward his own horse, the stallion tosses his head high and refuses to move. One foot digs at the sand in stubborn determination. "Still a bit wild though, isn't he? You'd best take care not to lose them again. Another run like that and half of them would be dead by the time you had them rounded up and back to camp."

It seemed like the younger Myles was just about to start finally tending Rook's wounds when multiple bandits entered the tent, yelling like lunatics for the bound and injured prisoners to get up. They seemed far away somehow, as if she was dreaming it, their shouts growing quieter in her ears even as they came closer and cut the rope binding her to the pole. When she didn't move, two of them scooped her up by the upper arms. Two others grabbed Jez and the women were simply dragged out of the tent toward the center of camp and the waiting Marcelle and Silveris.

This barely registered to Rook and by the time the small mob deposited them roughly onto the ground, the ranger slumped like dead weight to the sand. Indeed, without a closer inspection, she might appear dead. The back of her shirt was covered in blood and sand, her hands and front were splattered with Sampon's blood, and the wound to her calf had nearly soaked her boot. But out in the light it was also evident that her face had taken on a rather ashen tone.