Ink and Tongue

Embertongue

I silently watched Isabella for a moment before shrugging and yawning. "He'll come back. He's a smart boy."

She blinked. "But what if he doesn't come back!?"

"Give him ten minutes. If he doesn't show again, I'll go after him."

She didn't seem particularly happy about that arrangement but retreated again to sit by the fire, casting worried glances into the woods every five seconds.

"Don't worry about Zilo," I said, as her head turned yet again. "He can take care of himself."

She opened her mouth to reply but there was a rustle in the bushes as the boy stepped back into the firelight. He winced when he saw the both of us staring at him.

"Hi," he said quietly. "I...uh...See, that other girl ran off and I followed her because I thought she had stolen something...and..."

"So where is she now?" I asked. Relief spread across his face as he realized I wasn't mad at him.

"She went to the Inn."

"Well, we should start heading out as well. It's nearly dawn. Prick! Come here you little devil. Where'd you get off to now?"

The young marten came scampering out of the bushes, a few feathers sticking out from his muzzle. I picked them off, getting my finger bitten in the process. I ignored the blood and set him on the shoulder before extinguishing the fire with a few short words.

I glanced over at Isabella, who had stood and was gathering up all the supplies. Not that we had many. I picked up the pack lying next to the still smoking wood and shouldered it.

"Come on, lets go."

Isabella

I didn't want to be left alone again, so I did my best to help pack up before we left.

I was still inhumanly tired, but Ember said we should go, so I assumed I had no choice.

"Why are we going to this in, exactly?" I asked, trying to follow them without being too close. I was so worried of being a burden.

Making a fahionably late entrance!

Charis-

She could almost smell the sunrise on the horizon as she rode lazily on the back of a black mustang she had stolen. She would get to see the vivid oranges, pinks, reds, and yellows of the sunrise before she reached the inn though. Excitment filled her body as she thought of what awaited her at the inn. An old friend, her one true friend.

"Come on girl," Charis urged the horse forward a little faster, but not fast enough to miss the sun. She would reach the inn soon enough. The Mustang seemed ready enough to stop too, Charis would set it free of course, once she reached the inn. Then she would no longer have use for it and after all it had done for her it deserved freedom.

Her long chocolate brown curls fell mid back and bounced with the movements of the horse, She was only slightly chilly in the early morning, wearing a knee length satin blue dress. She gave in a few minutes later and pulled her black travelling cloak over her shoulders, covered only by the thin straps of the dress.

Everything she was wearing she had stolen, from the ribbon in her hair to the sandals on her feel. They were her only belongings besides a small black sack with random valuables in it, and now whatever was in the saddle bags.

As the sun broke the barrier between land and sky she spotted the inn. The colors burst across the sky like a painting and she nudged the horse along even faster. Now at a run they reached the inn.

Charis slid off the horse and collected the valuables from the saddles. She then pulled the saddle of the horse and watched it run into a near by forrest.

She stepped into the Inn, bag over her arm and immediatly spotted Evander at the bar. He was leaning over it with an ale in one hand. His black attire stood out amongst the earthy greens and browns. Charis came up behind him trying to suprise him but she turned when she was inches away, a smile on his face.

She threw herself at him in a big hug, "It's been too long," Evander said and Charis nodded.

"How are you?" She asked.

"Well enough, and you?" His smile lifted years off his face. He was nearly thirty eight, but you couldn't really tell just by looking at him.

"Fine, as always."

"Yes, but how fine is fine." He said, donning a more serious expression.

"I'm fine. You worry too much." She joked running her hands through his chin length wavy black hair.

"Just about you."

"Well, don't waste your energy. I'm better than fine, I'm great."

"Still having to steal to stay alive." He didn't put it in a question form. Evander was in the Shifting Shadows group. He had a rather rare talent. He can see into the past and future, and he can hear all of your truest desires and fears, "Come," he said in a lighter tone, "We have much to talk about."

Nevik-

After a working long and hard at the market selling vegetables I finally was headed back towards the Inn. I hardly noticed the time passing by as I went into the Inn, climbed up the stairs, and went into my room. I could finally go to sleep.

*Grace*

That was probably the weirdest performance I had ever been in.

"Whoa, Grace. Fantastic," Blazefinger commented. His face lit up suddenly. "We should give you a name. Like mine--Blazefinger."

Jonah nodded, enthused. I hedged.

"I don't know. Don't I already have one? Isn't it enough?"

"It could be a kind of last name. Or a title! How about Flameheart? No? Fireleg? Definitely not."

Jonah said something in a quiet voice that I couldn't hear.

Blazefinger's brow crumpled. Then he smiled thoughtfully. "I like that. Perfect for her."

"What is it?"

"Sparkfoot."

"Grace Sparkfoot? Sparkfoot...? Okay. Whatever. It's better than Fireleg," I joked.

Blazefinger blushed. "I know, I know. No need to rub it in."

I was Grace Sparkfoot now....

Jason

He leaned a little across the table as the performance ended, addressing her earlier response, "You mean to kill him, don't you? Well, I've got news. The king doesn't much run the show anymore. It's Mithan and his Fire Raisers now. There're a few of them in here now, although if they try and make any trouble here they'll get more than they're bargaining for." It occurred to him that she might be one of them, and he stopped talking immediately. But if she's one of them, she wouldn't be going to such pains to hide her identity... He grinned, eyes glinting mischievously, "They're welcome to try, though."

Zilo

I turned back to Isabella when I realized that Embertongue wasn't going to answer. She was trailing behind, waiting for one of us to answer.

"We're headed to the Inn of the Strolling Players."

She nodded. "How long will it take to get there?"

"Should be there by midday."

She nodded again and fell silent. I called the tiny marten to me and helped him onto my shoulder where he chattered in my ear. I ignored the clicks, hisses, and other sounds Prick created and followed Embertongue through the dense trees.

"The going should get easier up ahead. There's a small river we can follow that leads straight to the Inn," he said quietly, and whether it was directed to me, Isabella, the both of us, or no one, I couldn't tell. He didn't glance around as he cracked twigs under his boots, seeming to follow a clearly marked path only his eyes could see. I had learned never to doubt his sense of direction, but even at times like this, I was a bit...puzzled as to how he knew the way so well.

Thinking back to when I was younger and how Ember would bring me to the Inn, I remembered him telling me story after story, most having to do with the Fire-Eater Dustfinger. Em never mentioned him beyond the stories, but after a few of them I had decided the only way he could've known some of the tales he tells was that he had to have been there. And, more often than not, the stories either took place in these woods, the Inn, or back at the castle and the small town surrounding it.

I wanted to ask him to tell another story. To get him to break the silence that was stretching to uncomfortable lengths. But something told me it wasn't the best time for that. So instead, I trudged after him, casting suspicious glances around into the surrounding woods.

**hey it died ***

Bailee

"I don't care if he runs the show anymore, I'm still going to kill him. No matter what it takes, even if it takes my last breath." I said and it was all true. I didn't want to be a rueler or anything I just wanted my revenge, whoever the hell got in my way was going to get a piece of my mind and if they didnt back up they were going to get a knife through their gut. "I just want the king's head. Is that too much to ask."

"If they find out your here they'll be a bounty on your head." He said grimly.

"Well I don't suppose they'll find out since no ones going to tell them. Hmm?" I said.

"I just don't understand-"

"You don't have to understand, all you have to do is keep your bloody voice down, I don't attention right now." I said, ready to run out of this place.

**has funieral for SB**

What do you mean? There have been regular posts, it's nowhere near dead.

Cyril Miles; 6:00am

Slowly the sun was spreading across the horizon, coiling its golden fingers about the land to reclaim what rightfully belonged to the day. Cyril breathed in the damp, mossy scent of the morning air and smiled to himself as he sat in the driver's seat of his moving cart. He cast a glance over his shoulder at the sleeping children and chuckled quietly. Cameron had tried to stay awake half the night, clutching at a knife nestled in his belt but now his eyes were firmly closed and his breathing deep and soft.

"To the Inn of the Strolling Players, my dears," Cyril whispered.

The cart trundled along the dirt road and the hours passed steadily as a city slipped into view. There was movement in the back of the cart and Cameron sprang to his feet, eyes wide and knife in hand.

"Almost there," Cyril called cheerily.

"Almost where?" Cameron demanded, waking his sister who looked around in confusion and surprise. Her eyes flickered from her and her brother's horses fastened to and walking along behind the cart to the front where Cyril sat comfortably.

"The Inn of the Strolling Players," Cyril said. From there you can get a guide to take you anywhere. Cameron stared at Cyril's back unhappily.

"You mean it's even further to get back now?" he asked.

"Not at all," Cyril said. "This path has merely curved all the way around the woods. With a guide you can be back in less than an hour so long as you're willing to cut straight through them trees."