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OOC: All those from Tracking Down a Prisoner, and Prince Caspian, please join this rp. Others can join if they want, though this is a direct continuation of Tracking.

IC: Damien Arrowing, gryphon of the Narnian rebels, flew high over the thickly forested hills. He was on his way to find Caspian, and seek an answer. Only a few minutes ago, his patrol had come across a Telmarine scout in the forest and captured him, only to be encountered by a whole group of them. The leader of the Telmarines had saught an audience with Caspian, and Damien was now flying ahead to see if it was permissable. The others were coming behind at their slower walking pace with the Telmarines, and would wait outside camp.

Damien reflected back on their original goal of capturing an escaped prisoner, and wondered if they would ever find him again. He was probably long gone by now, and could even be back with his fellow Telmarines. The gryphon frowned at the thought, disappointed that they had not been able to find him. But this new Telmarine could also be important. If he had something of value to say to Caspian, then their party could have done something worthwile after all. Damien enjoyed being of value to the Narnians, and though he had only just joined them that very day he was finding use for himself.

The iron-blue and rust-red gryphon finally cauth sight of Aslan's How at the edge of the trees. The Stone Table was clearly visible against the green fields. Hopefully Caspian would be easily accessable in the crowd of Narnians. Damien cried out his approach, making sure no one was surprised by his entrance. Though, what enemy could be flying in for an attack he didn't know. It was always better to be careful.

Damien narrowed the surface of his wings exposed to the air, and dropped gradually until he was only just above the treetops. With a last flurry of flapping he had landed neatly on the ground on the edge of the large group. He hurried to the nearest faun.

"I am seeking His Majesty, Caspian, on a matter of relative importance. Do you know where he is to be found?" he asked politely, and headed off in the indicated direction.

Damien moved into the caves where Caspian was supposed to be. "Excuse me, madam, can Caspian speak with me at present? I have a matter of some importance that I would like to see him about," he asked a centaur standing outside.

Why wasn't she allowed to practice her sword fighting? It's not like she was going to hurt anyone. Well, knowing the fourteen year old, she would. Alexandra took a step into the bright sunlight and blinked a few times so that her green eyes would adjust. She looked around at the many working Narnians, and stepping aside, she let a minotaur through. She knew she was in the way, and the only thing she could do was sit around and do nothing- she wasn't skilled in making weapons, and when she tried, she failed miserably. They just kept her on guard duty, but her shift was over for the day, and she now didn't have anything to do.

When she finally found a place to sit out of the way of everything, Alex found herself looking up at the sky, just watching it for no particular reason. She thought about the Telmarine prisoner that was being held, and wondered why they didn't just kill him. Well, get needed information out of him, then kill him. He was a Telmarine, and he deserved it. She didn't even get the reason why everybody loved Caspian, she personally didn't care about him. Sure, there was a prophecy that he would help restore Narnia with the help of the Kings and Queens of Old, but they still haven't showed up, and she was beginning to think that they weren't going to.

Something flying caught her eye as Alex lay there, thinking. Sitting up, she looked over the tree tops and noticed a gryphon flying overhead. He had to have some kind of news, she just knew it. Standing up, she brushing off her brown breeches and started to run in the direction of Aslan's How. She watched him land, and immediately noticed who it was. "Damien," she said, running into the How and after him. While approaching, the young Archenlander overheard him asking for Caspian. She walked up, pulling her blue tunic to her face to wipe some sweat off before dropping it to its normal position. "Matter of importance?" she asked, after her breath started to slow. "About the Telmarines I hope."

She knew she was getting into their business, but she couldn't help it, she liked knowing what was going on.

There was so much to plan, to figure out. Caspian sighed, bringing his fingers along over the surface of one of the maps, wondering for the millionth time where the promised help might be. Had he been wrong to believe in the help of Aslan? Internally cursing himself for such blatant doubt, Caspian shook his head. Of course Aslan would send the promised help! Of course he would! Because if he didn’t have the grace and strength and word of Aslan to hold on to, to trust, what did he have? Could he honestly think he’d come out here for nothing? That his being spared had been an accident, or useless? If he had gotten the hope of all these creatures up for nothing... why he would hate himself! It seemed so unreasonable to think that they could win this on their own as Miraz’s army grew stronger every day.

”But as does ours,” he whispered to himself, “As does ours.” Still, he couldn’t help but feel like a fool as he looked around the caves they’d all be forced to call “home” for too long, while the storm raged on and left many ill. And now with these little conflicts that were threatening to break out... how much longer could he reasonably expect the Narnians to keep hope? To keep their trust in him? Already he knew there were some who were thinking they would be better off with Caspian and while the young man tried to dissuade such negative talk... he was doubting himself as well. Their prisoner – a man quite high in Miraz’s council – had escaped. And all because Caspian had shown weakness and had been unable to have the man killed.

But would Aslan have wanted him killed? It hardly seemed just to cut down a man who could neither remember who he was nor, in all likelihood, how to defend himself. It seemed less than honourable and Caspian was an advocate of honour and justice. But look where that had gotten him! How he was failing these creatures! And while some still held steadfast to the prophecies, and while some still had faith in him... still he wondered if perhaps they were only being kind. How had he shown he was any sort of leader? Must he go and do something drastic to show it? Perhaps he needed to single-handedly retrieve the escaped captive, or maybe he needed to find a way to draw Aslan forth into their midst. Maybe he needed to find the help that was promised.

But he couldn’t do those things. How could he? By what means or determination?

There was a faint commotion a distance away and Caspian heard someone asking for him. Excellent! A distraction, how he could use a distraction! He pulled himself to his feet, still weary after the illness had taken him too, and dusted off the legs of his trousers. Despite the condition, he was still a prince, still the rightful king, and he would look the best he possibly could. Call it his dignity, or perhaps simply pride, but it would not matter. He ran his fingers through his hair, giving it some semblance of grooming, and dusted off his hands.

He nodded his greeting at the young woman who was talking to the gryphon, wondering who she was. There were so many creatures in and out of the camp that he couldn’t keep track of them all. Another thing he would need to remedy. He hated not knowing those around him by name. It made him feel so inadequate as a leader. A leader, he decided, ought to know his people. He ought to know their names, and their roles, and what they needed or did not need. How else could one lead a people, unless they know them? He sighed. Yes, he was an inadequate leader. His tutors had taught him the basics, of course. The lessons, the words to say, the things to do. But Miraz’s idea of being a king and Caspian’s own seemed to differ. And it was a good deal different doing something from just reading about it, or being lectured about it.

“Damien! You had need of me?” He hardly knew the gryphon but their first meeting stuck out in his mind. He was not so bad at remembering who was who, if he only just got the opportunity to meet them all! “Friend! How goes the hunt? Might I be of use somehow?” He wanted, more than anything, to feel as though he was helping someone in some way! He felt so useless pouring over his maps, trying to recall details about Miraz, anything that might help them with strategy. Of course, such things were all important but he would have liked to have been doing something a little more useful, a little more... “hands on”. “Please, tell me you have some sort of news to easy my weary mind?”

OOC: Moving forward with permission. . .

IC:

Drinian followed alongside Swiftshadow -- not about to take the position of a hostage or prisoner, between heavy guard -- and slowly they made pace to the Narnian camp. But not slowly enough, Drinian suspected, for the Narnian's taste.

He had his suspicions that they hoped he, somehow, would never arrive. Nevertheless, it was not 15 minutes that had passed before Drinian found himself before the familiar sight and childhood haunt of Aslan's How, now irrecogniseable, transformed amidst the swarms of life and activity of death: weapons preparations, impromptu sparring matches, soldiers loafing about without assignment . . .

Drinian took it all in, at times shifting in his saddle to catch a better view. He tried not to look as though he was observing too much: the Narnian search party he was with still had their doubts, he was sure.

But Drinian was taking inventory, observing with keen, calculating eyes. His brow furrowed as he considered the possiblities and chances. Chances of truce, chances of a Narnian victory, and the possibility of peace once more. The possiblity of complete annihalation of the other side, should the victors not be so merciful . . .

Drinian shook his head slightly. The possibility of peace. That was what he hoped for. He would deal with what might be only when his hopes were dashed.

With a silent prayer and a light sigh, Drinian entered the thick of Narnian soldiers, feeling palpably the weight of their gazes upon them. Sensing their jeers. He looked blankly, absently ahead, feeling a sort of thrill run through him at the youthful voice of his friend.

"Damien! You had need of me? Friend! How goes the hunt? Might I be of use somehow? Please, tell me you have some sort of news to easy my weary mind?”

Drinian rose upright in the stirrups to see above and beyond the din and flurry, smiling now as he saw Caspian -- on his own feet -- walking towards the gryphon of the party. Not at death's door, then. The rumours had been a lie. The Telmarine captain felt his heart warmed by such news, but his smile abated somewhat as he saw the ghostly traces of illness on the features. He looked wan; a little sallow.

Instinctively falling into the role of elder brother that so often suited him the past, Drinian thought of calling to Caspian, telling him he needed to sit. And rest. He thought, as a captain of Telmar, he should address the grave matter at hand and speak his business and request an audience.

But the role that had always come first to Drinian was as a friend. And so, as he watched Caspian walk forward with maps in hand, Drinian called in a mirthful voice over the sounds of the camp, "Tell me you are not lost already, my lord!" The words, meaningful in more ways than one, were followed by a nod from Drinian towards the maps. "You have not forgotten, surely, all our time together? Do you need me once more to show you the way?" he grinned now, thinking back on their time as youths, exploring the kingdom that would one day be Caspian's. The duchy that was Drinian's. Drinian had always been the better navigator of the two and had often righted their course and pointed wanderings about the area. Such pleasant times!

Drinian knew he must think not of the past but the future -- even before the present. But for now, for one moment, he wanted to rejoice in the moment of seeing his friend again, of being reunited, however perilously. And however fleetingly.

Damien hardly had a chance to respond – or, if he did, Caspian really didn’t hear him – before another voice piped up and Caspian’s attention was caught. The kindly teasing caught his attention more than any introduction might have, and the young prince glanced eagerly about to see just where his much missed comrade was. How he had missed that voice; there were few friends so loyal as the man Caspian knew Drinian to be and amongst this different group of followers, he had yearned many times for the comfort of Miraz’s castle and the camaraderie he had shared with his companions. But how could Drinian known where to find him?

“Indeed!” Caspian replied, trying to keep his glee in check, “Tell me, sir, have you a better path that that which I am trying to blaze?” Grinning mischievously, he approached and ran his fingers along the horse’s mane, chuckling. “Poor witless creature,” he murmured, having found it quite obvious, even after so little time around talking beasts, that this horse was not of the speaking, thinking kind. He’d taken this sort of creature very much for granted back when he was Prince in Miraz’s court and now he pitied the thing, having seen the creatures of the same sort who could talk and laugh and love as the great Aslan meant to. “Dear Drinian, I am pleased to find you well. Though, of course, I cannot help but wonder what might have brought you here. I do not question your motives, of course, I know you to be a tried and true man, worthy of trust. But while I would like nothing more than to hear that you’ve seen reason, and would like to join our little... resistance, of a sort... it saddens me to know that it cannot be so.” He sighed, surveying the Narnians around him, noting – and not for the first time – that they needed him. Even if Miraz wanted him back (but of course he didn’t, he’d ordered Caspian killed, after all), Caspian could never return.

The caves were somewhat dark, and more than a little chilly and damp – which was why the lot of them had fallen ill, no doubt – but they made good storage for his maps and papers. Rolling up his work, he handed the pages off to one of the centaurs. With a brief nod, the centaur hurried away to put his things away. Now was not the time for strategy! Now was the time to celebrate! Regardless of Drinian’s motives, Caspian would welcome him like a brother. There were few from the court who would be received with such honour here, however. And, after he’d made sure that his guest was fed – though the fare was lacking in flavour, and the drink in potency – he would find out exactly what had brought Drinian to the weather-worn camp.

But while he treasured his friend, if he had come to request surrender, or that Caspian return to court, the young prince would have to decline. Caspian wondered if Drinian even knew of Miraz’s attempt at his life. Probably not; it wasn’t like it was something the king would have flaunted. Oh no, but Caspian’s desertion was likely high on the list of complaints against his person.

“Please, dismount and I will have food and drink brought to us. Only once you are fed – though I wish I could offer more than what I have, it will have to do – will we discuss whatever matters might have brought you here. Unless,” Caspian added with a winning grin, “perhaps you came simply because you missed my company in which case I need not worry the news you bear is difficult or troublesome.” In truth, he did worry. Was Miraz up to something particularly sinister? No doubt he’d already claimed the throne, there wasn’t much Caspian could do about that at the moment. Oh but the day would come when Caspian took his rightful place and when that day came... Miraz would regret all that he’d done. Not just the wrongs he’d committed against Caspian himself, but the wrongs that he had committed against all the Narnians. Caspian would see to it.

He wanted to ask Drinian what news he bore, but was torn. Ought he ask in the company of the others, or should he pull his friend aside and ask in private? Surely though, if he left it to secrecy... rumours would spread about his camp. He already knew some of the Narnians didn’t trust him. Better he was transparent in all matters, especially those pertaining to meetings with Telmarines – regardless of whether or not they were, or had once been, dear friends.

Damien turned at the sound of the young woman's voice. His eyes glittered in the gryphon version of a smile. Not having anything better to do while he waited for Caspian, he replied to the girl. "Why yes, actually. Our tracking party had a small encounter with a Telmarine lord who wishes to speak with Caspian. They're all on their way at the moment," he said cheerfully. All thoughts of the escaped prisoner had drifted from his mind for the time being.

"May I ask your name? I've only been here a short while, so I'm afraid I don't know everyone as well as I'd like," he questioned the girl, curious to learn more about his comrades. There weren't many humans amongst them, so the presence of one now intrigued him. However, his thoughts were interrupted by the approach of Caspian.

Damien watched as the young prince, especially young compared to a gryphon, walked towards them. He looked tired, and a little overwhelmed at the present. Damien was made even more thankful for his own haste in arriving. The Narnians, it seemed, needed his fresh strength more than ever. After their bouts of sickness, any strong, healthy creature joining them would be a huge help, and the gryphon was determined to be as great a help as possible.

"Our hunt was actually interrupted by an encounter with more Telmarines. They should be arriving-" but Damien's words were cut off by the Telmarine Drinian himself. They had obviously moved very quickly; they had arrived much sooner than Damien had expected. He took that to mind; ground creatures were not to be underestimated.

Damien watched the growing exchange between the two with interest. Drinian had been telling the truth; it was obvious Caspian would like to speak with him. They seemed to have an already grown friendship, one that perhaps could be used to the Narnians' advantage. Damien hoped that Drinian's appearance now would have good results for all of them, though he realized that his arrival could signal more trouble with Miraz.

Happily, with a laugh that bubbled forth involuntarily, Drinian dismounted eagerly from the saddle: happy to be with his friend, happy to be back on land, happy to be off of the creature. To Caspian's familiar condolance to the beast, Drinian shook his head with an ironic smile. "'Tis better for him to be, sir, for my sake. I might not withstand a battle of wits as well as wills." Drinian's way with horses was nigh legendary -- and always blown out of proporition -- at the palace back in Telmar. Notorious for the one time he had been thrown whilst jousting, Drinian had gained a reputation as a hopeless horseman. While his horsemanship did leave something to be desired -- it was not his preferred mode of transportation, so he often lacked the practise necessary for perfection -- he was competent, but as amused at the situations as others. "Though," he added, "Glover might make better company than some at camp." He kept the words light in the presence of his own, Telmarine company -- a friendly prod at military life, perhaps. Or something more. Drinian himself was still not accustomed to Talking Beasts and was slightly unnerved by the thought of those creatures which spoke and thought like man but had the natural strength and speed of animals. It was unnatural, but for Caspian's sake, he would do his best to support it.

"Now," Drinian said, embracing Caspian and clapping him on the shoulder, then holding him at arm's length and examining him, "let's have a look at you." He couldn't help but feel the thinness of the young king's arms from beneath his doublet. Hefrowned.

As Caspian offered all he had, with the desire of more, Drinian held up his hand fervently in protest, taking a step back from his friend. "Highness, I refuse to take anything more from you than your time and your response to the conditions to King Miraz," he said gravely. Drinian could not say in the presence of the other Telmarines what he felt: that the food may become precious, that Caspian had positioned himself in a place very much vulnerable to seige with very little supply. That he wanted from Caspian was more than food and drink: kind words and hope. But he had something for Caspian, and with a proud satisfaction, Drinian thought to the medicine brought from the Telmarine camp for Caspian -- with the promise of more. Drinian still hoped an arrangement might be made, the most basic of reparations to these creatures who also shared the land.

At Caspian's lamentation, Drinian's face was noticeably strained. "I am sorry for it, too, my friend," he muttered lowly. Alone, in private, perhaps, Caspian might realise his hopes were not so far from fruition as the young king feared, but here, before all the company, both Narnian and Telmarine, the appearances must be maintained. "But we have much to discuss. In private," he added, looking beyond Caspian to the Narnian camp, then back behind him to Thal and Dharr. Thal must be excluded from this; he was, after all, Miraz' informant on this matter, Drinian was sure.

Admittedly, the young Calormene was not as familiar with warfare as she pretended to be. It was always a "man's art", left to those of the stronger gender. Women had always been seen as too weak to possibly endure the hardships of warfare. Personally, Dharr thought this was because men were too brash, and often rushed into situations without analyzing every possible outcome- Lord Drinian was rapidly disproving that theory. Even when confronted by wild animals, the likes of which had only been whispered of in Calormen, he kept his calm, able to behave diplomatically and even friendly.

Now there was something that was a bit unexpected. Dharr knew that Drinian felt little loyalty towards Miraz, and with good reason. But that he should greet the known enemy with such familiarity? How.... astonishing. Wars were fought between hostile factions, both eager for glory, right? Then why were both Lord Drinian and Prince Caspian so cordial and almost brotherly with each other? Had her long time perception of war been wrong perhaps? It was a possibility. But then how in Tash's name (His name be praised forevermore) could they be expected to fight one with another? How horrid. War against the actual enemy was bad enough.

What was she fighting for? As Dharr steadied her horse, she reflected on her reasons for being there. They were ignoble, selfish even. She had run away from home in the hopes of escaping an arranged marriage to a decent man, because she was not ready to throw her life away and become the miserable Tarkheena of some province within Calormen. She was siding with Miraz, when she should have been at home, back behind cloistered walls and wearing her silks and bathing in donkey's rich, creamy milk. War was no place for her.... and perhaps the grandiose illusion of it all was fading. Almost wryly, the girl thought to herself, "I don't want to be here."

The time for action was at hand. Did she dare admit her gender, her femininity?

Alex listened to Damien, and frowned at the thought of them not catching the prisoner. She smiled politely to Damien. "I'm Alex," she said, about to ask the gryphon for his name, but was interrupted by Caspian walking outside. She watched him nodd to her, but she dismissed it. Her eyes traveled away from the 'rightful' king and to the other newcomer. Great, now this day was going to be full of surprises, something Alexandra did not want. She simply stepped back and listened to everything.

This was what she always did, stood in the shadows and listened to the conversation. She brushed her breeches of a little more, then fixed her tunic. It was a habit, she noticed, that even though her garmets were perfectly fine, she still felt the need to fix them. Her eyebrows were raised as she heard that the two needed to speak in private. Stepping forward, she decided to say something against this. "My prince," she started, and pushed herself to try and at least be nice for once. "As your guard, I don't think that you should go in a room alone with this man." She looked the Telmarine over, and made a face. She never trusted Telmarines, even if he was an 'old friend' of Caspian's, you could never be too sure. "I have noticed that you two are obviously good friends, but I, myself, can never be off my guard."

Well, how was that for being nice. That was probably the nicest thing Alex had said in a very long time. That said a lot about the young guard. What with the almost snarl she gave the Telmarine, but the concern on her face she gave Caspian, it was almost as if she was acting. She wasn't acting, she just didn't trust the man, and if Caspian was killed while Alex was standing right there, she would be in a lot of trouble. Of course, she was sure that Caspian could take care of himself, but still. Alex couod not affors to be kicked out of her job.

Caspian grinned, aware of Drinian’s reputation around the castle. It was said he was not a particularly skilled horseman, though Caspian knew it was more for lack of desire to learn, then a lack of an ability. He didn’t doubt the young man – though he was older than Caspian himself by a couple of years – could do whatever it was that he set his mind to. There was something so very encouraging about meeting up with an old friend, even if the joviality of the meeting could hardly last too long once Drinian got down to whatever it was he needed to say, or announce, or request. The prince did not look forward to that moment, and only hoped that he could drag on this moment as long as possible.

Drinian refused his attempt at hospitality, stating that he’d not take anything more from him than his time and his response to Miraz’s conditions. Caspian sighed. So this was where they started then; he would have to remember that he was here as a messenger from Miraz and that, despite the friendship they had, at one time, had, until this war was over they would not be able to share the same sort of companionship that they had at one time. There was too much at stake here – Caspian was sure that he was where he was supposed to be and he would win back Narnia for the Narnians if it was the death of him. Unfortunately, based on their dwindling supplies and the way Caspian was having a hard time shaking his illness, and the sheer numbers of Miraz’s men compared to their own... his death might come a good deal sooner than he would have liked.

Their conversation – and Drinian’s request to speak in private – was interrupted by a girl acting as one of his guards. This, Caspian thought, was slightly odd but he did not say so. He had no desire to insult anyone who was on his side. But the girl hardly looked like she could be of much use as a guard – if anyone came at him with the intent of causing him injury, or death, Caspian suspected he’d be better able to defend himself than she would. The thought brought a tiny smile to his face but he pushed it aside. Now was not the time to find amusement in silly things. There were important matters to be discussed.

“I appreciate the concern,” he said wryly, “But I assure you, Lord Drinian means me no harm. I cannot vouch for the men along with him, however; you may feel free to keep them out. I have a feeling I need to hear the message he brings.” Still, though, Caspian was unsure. Was it not better to have at least another privy to the information? He sighed. His desire to speak freely with Drinian was overwhelming. He wanted to know what was going on at the castle, and the treachery of Miraz. He wanted to know of the army, and the condition of it after the storm. He wanted to know a good many things and Drinian could be the source of that information.

Hesitating, Caspian finally nodded and motioned Drinian forward. Then, regardless of what Drinian had said, Caspian called to have some food and drink brought – and mentioned that Drinian’s companions should also be fed – and then led him away from the group.

When finally they broke free from the trees, Choni paused a moment to undo the leather thong holding up her skirt, the hem once again swinging around her ankles and void of too much damage from the underbrush. She still watched the man on the horse, nevermind that they were back at camp. And he was watching the camp closely. She narrowed her eyes offensively, felling almost that he shouldn't have a right to see any of this. He should have been brought to some meeting spot away from here where he wouldn't be able to see their training, their ranks and their numbers. These weren't her people and this certainly wasn't her war, but she was staying at this camp and she would defend it if need arose whether the other inhabitants of this place liked her or not.

The warm way the Prince greeted the man unnerved her because the man unnerved her. This Drinian. There couldn't exactly be friendships on both sides of a war, she thought. Grumbling and rolling her eyes, she put her arrow back in it's quiver and slung her bow over her shoulder. Let the Prince do what he will, she thought. She could always tell him exactly what she thought of it later and probably get into an argument about it as well. Crossing her arms, she studied the other two with that Drinian. She could tell at a glance that one of them was from Calormene, the darkness of their skin from living in the sun-blazed country giving them away. Choni saw many Calormene growing up, travelling through her own Archenland and Narnia for trade. What was a Calormene doing in a war this far from his native country?

She cast a glance at her other companions, Swiftshadow, Damien, and Senzi, wondering what they thought of their leader's obvious closeness with his supposed enemy. She cast another glance as a girl she didn't know spoke with the Prince. She didn't catch what she said or what he replied, but she did hear the call for food and drink and watched as Caspian led the man Drinian away. She scowled and left in search of the tea the Bandger had brewed earlier, wiping at a sheen of sweat that had broken on her brow. She wouldn't let herself become as weak as Caspian had been earlier. She was smarter than that. Inwardly she laughed at what might have happened had he not recovered during their absence. What would the soldier's of Miraz have done then? she wondered. Quite possibly turned tail and ran back to report the location of the camp, if they hadn't already known, and that it was the perfect time to attack. She should have liked to have seen the look on the glorified Prince's face then.

As Thal entered the enemy camp, he did what any soldier of his skill and position might: he remained vigilant -- ever vigilant; he proceeded forward, confident in his ability; and he looked suspiciously about at everything else.

For try as he might to feel better about the situation, no matter how often he told himself that he was a capable fighter and a savvy thinker -- that he could be sure of himself, Thal was finding he could be sure of nothing else.

His steely eyes raked over the camp, attempting to classify and catalogue. War preparations were underway, but they were still making weapons; the Telmarines already had theirs at the ready. And the creatures themselves -- they seemed to defy comprehension and classification. As Thal watched a creature pass by carrying a small bundle of polearms, his brows furrowed. It appeared to be that appeared half human, half goat, and half eagle . . . too many halves.

His own company seemed little more encouraging, though at least he was sure of what they were: led by an unproven youth, followed by a timid masquerader, and joined by a cowardly scout. He'd need to be the strength on this one. To insist, should they waver from the course of reason.

And as their captain dismounted to embrace the enemy leader, Thal suspected they indeed had. While perhaps friends, there was little to guarantee that the rebel prince's men would acknowledge the bond.

Thal instinctively flinched as a girl came forward, proclaiming the need for a guard. Thal could not agree more: the two could not meet alone. Particularly as he noted the hostile gazes of the camp. It was clear there was an element of disorganisation and dissent in the camp -- with Caspian gone, it was possible that the protection of the white flag might go unheeded and Adelliana, the scout, and he left vulnerable.

But what bothered him the most was that Drinian and Caspian might meet in private without him knowing a word of it. He had received direct command from Miraz not to let Drinian out of his sight and to watch him closely: he was suspect. Notwithstanding, Drinian could not know of Miraz' intent.

This was, to most, reason enough to do Miraz' bidding. Not enough for Thal. Thal wished to be in audience with Caspian and Drinian because he must know everything; if one was to weigh advantages and act accordingly, if one was to keep on top of this precarious, dog-eat-dog world, one must know everything.

And if Drinian left, Thal would know nothing. He would fall out of grace with Miraz for disobeying orders (a situation precarious enough), and he would have nothing with which to mete his own situation.

"My lord!" he called to the young man who seemed in a state that reminded him of the worst levity of boyhood, laughing and making merry in the midst of war. "I have from King Miraz the order that I shall not leave you alone to danger."

This stopped the young man, who for once displayed a sobriety becoming his situation. He waited patiently, rooting his horse to the ground, as the young captain of Telmar broke from his friend to return to Thal. Once near, Drinian motioned that Thal must stoop lower for him to hear what he had to say.

Reluctantly, Thal did so. Drinian spoke in a voice so low, it almost did not reach his own ears.

"I appreciate your concern for my person, Thal; however, I have orders from Miraz as well: to gain and maintain the trust of Caspian. And who better than I, his friend of many years, to determine what will and will not arise suspicion? Believe me when I say it is best; I shall be fine." The young lord looked about. "And you also."

Thal frowned as Drinian turned from him, picking up his pace as he reached Caspian's side once more. The soldier grit his teeth as the call was raised for food and drink. Thal would have none of it.

He looked to Adelliana. "It would be wise not to accept anything from them," he advised, not sparing a glance to the scout.

Alex clentched her jaw and took a step back. She held her tongue, making herself hold back a comment. He probably thought she was some joke. A woman being a guard, it was unheard of. Alex had broken through what they expected of a woman. She had showed them her potential as a fighter. If she was simply a woman, would she have a sword on her side along with the quiver on her back? She didn't think so, and if she found out that Caspian really did think those things, he would get a piece of her mind.

Looking around at all the different characters, one had come and gone, probably in search of food, and one spoke with words that angered the fourteen year old. "Why would it be wise not to take any food from us?" she asked, stepping forward and walking over to the man's horse, ignoring everybody else. Her eyes turned cold and she looked the man over. Dark hair, dark eyes, obviously important by the way he carried himslef. He was not to be trusted. Alex was not your normal fourteen year old girl, and she was not to be underestimated.

She had a habit of this, examining people before she even knew them. What would be the point of wasting your time and talking to somebody who you know already know will be somebody that you will hate? That was what Alex thought, and as her green eyes exaiming the man, she already knew that she would not get along with him. Either that, or he would surprise her which wasn't like, and if he did, Alex still wouldn't be happy, she hated surprises. She wished somebody she knew was around, somebody who she could talk to without being angry to. Damien, sure, Alex would be nce to him, but he was a true Narnia. The man would probably give her entertainment, though, which was perfectly fine with Alex, she had been bored the whole day.

Throughout the return trip, Senzi had kept a close eye on the humans as well as on the area behind him. He was just waiting for one of them to make a suspisious movement and the cat wouldn't put it past the Telmarines to send a small army after the 'peaceful' group. Naturally, he didn't trust them. He didn't even completely trust the humans at camp. He didn't know their true intentions. While he couldn't make them leave, he would certainly keep his distance from them while on the battlefield. How Senzi wished there were more leopards around.

When the group got back to camp, Senzi spotted Damien speaking with Caspian and a woman whom Senzi had not seen before. As Caspian and Drinian caught sight of each other, they began chatting away like long time friends. The cat was very confused. Apparently the fact that if Caspian had approached Miraz's camp with similar intentions, he would have been killed on the spot had slipped the prince's mind.

The cat looked after Caspian and his Telmarine friend as they walked off. He would have very much liked to follow, but he knew his place was not there. Besides, he would eventually learn what they spoke of afterwards. He looked back at the remaining humans and approached them. "Are you hungry," he asked them somewhat reluctanly, "I can get some food for you."

Reading his face alone, Thal's emotions did not seem to change at all when the little girl (for he did think her to still be just a child) approached him, her mannerisms angry and defensive. She glared at Thal; Thal simply watched her in return. She was feisty, passionate. Thal knew that, while that might be her greatest attribute, it would also prove to be her greatest weakness someday. Then again, that was how strengths and weaknesses seemed to go. The best was also the worst.

"Why would it be wise not to take any food from us?"

Her eyes flashed, her voice sounded angered, her body had tensed in defensiveness. Thal took it all in, impatient that a child would bother him with silly questions. But he knew better than to treat her as a child. If you treat a child as if he cannot think for himself, perhaps he will stop thinking for himself altogether. But if you probe their intellect, they can shock with their innocent knowledge.

While Thal did not wish to waste his time probing a child's intellect, he generally treated everyone equally (except, of course, perfect fools). This girl deserved an answer just as much as anyone else, and Thal gave it a moment's thought before forming the correct response. "Should you enter my camp, in the service of Caspian, would you trust me?"

Choni walked back, standing just inside the mouth of the cave, leaning against the cool, jagged wall and swirling tea in a wooden cup. She was already feeling better after a couple mouthfuls. That girl who'd been talking to Caspian semmed to be getting into quite the tiff with one of Drinian's men. Over food and water. She rolled her eyes and threw back the rest of the tea before wiping her mouth and setting the cup carefully on the ground.

"Of course not," she said, answering the man's question for the girl. "You see, you're known as the bad people- not to be trusted. However, this group of people and creatures and so on are known as the good people. We don't poison our enemies to get ahead and our word is trustworthy." Well, perhaps not her word in particular. She was technically lying to the lot of them. "So, if we give you food and water, rest assured it is delicious, very healthy, and think about how you should be thankful that we're so considerate as to keep you satiated with food best left to feed our own army."

She fixed the man with the most steely glare a sixteen year old pull off. Then she glanced at the retreating leopard and then to the girl. "I think I'll go help Senzi with the food. I'm Choni, by the way," she added, knowing she had not yet met the girl before now. Again, she glared at the man before turning to follow the feline companion whom she was sure didn't like her much anyway.

Alex watched as the man's eyes looked her over. She simply waited, impatiently, but she waited. When he spoke his questions, she raised her eyebrows. Her pink lips were opened to speak, when she was interrupted by a girl that had just walked up. The fourteen year old turned, her light eyes almost a glare, but not nearly there. It wouldn't be wise to look as if you hated somebody on your own side, especially in front of the enemy. Well, the girl was saying the exact same thing that Alex was going to say, of course, Alex's would have been shorter, much shorter.

It was just the fact that the girl answered for Alex. Sure, she was younger, but Alex bet she could give a better answer. Blinking, Alex smiled to the girl and watched her walk off, before taking a breath. "I hate people," she mumbled, then turned back to the man. Hoping he didn't hear her, which wasn't likely considering the fact that she mumbled her statement loudly, she reached down and started to brush off her breeches again. She was surprised that most people hadn't said anything about her attire. It was very rare to see a woman not wearing a dress. Well, Alex wasn't the average woman.

To tell an enemy that they were the bad ones, the ones not to be trusted, and everything that was wrong with the world was a terrible idea. Thal had learned the art of self-control throughout his years and did not quickly take to rash actions, but, had he been another man with less brains, this interrupting woman may have regretted her words. She spoke too much, and without any thought. It was reckless behavior that did nothing to help her arguments. Her words and actions only made Thal feel annoyed - he would not let himself become angry at such trifles, as such weakness in one's self-control always caused for poor decisions later on.

Thankfully for everyone, the woman left nearly as soon as she had come. Thal was not surprised to find out he was not the only one who thought her to be bothersome. The young girl, who the question had been directed to originally, looked the part, and muttered it too. Perhaps this little girl had potential. Certainly more than the woman who had just passed them. Could that lady - though Thal would hesitate to call her such - not let a person answer for him - or in this case, her - self?

A slight pause followed the woman's exit, until Thal spoke up. "And likewise, I cannot trust you." His eyes turned to watch the girl, to see if she was intelligent enough to understand him. Likely she could have given a better answer - or so Thal hoped. Everything about this place was making him think more ill of it all the time.

Dharr, having travelled all of the day, became rather happier at the prospects of having a nice meal. And that the Narnians should be so kind as to offer their own food evoked the smallest of smiles from the disguised Calormene girl. That happiness was short lived however, as Thal seemed to think accepting the offering was quite unnecessary. He was of course her commanding officer, and therefore it was practically mandated that she do as he say. Still, Dharr could not understand the logic behind Thal's actions.

What was it that made him so untrusting? Dharr had gotten on well enough with his sister. Myrrine was kind, and friendly. She did not seem inclined in the slightest to exhibit Thal's same broodiness. A shame, really, for if he could only lighten up a bit, there would be more to like about him. As things stood, Dharr was admittedly a little frightened of the man.

A little defiantly, Dharr spoke up, tone a little rough from having ridden all of the day. "I wouldn't mind a flagon of water, actually." Immediatedly she turned to Thal, bracing herself for whatever reaction might follow.

It was no surprise, really, that Dharr should defy him. Dharr was, after all, more than just a little soldier boy. "He" was a young, defiant Tarkheena named Adelliana, and it was Adelliana who was disagreeing openly with Thal now. That Adelliana should disagree with him was not shocking in any way. He obviously thought her to be silly and naive to take food from these Narnians, but that was not what bothered him most. Here was a soldier, Dharr, showing defiance to his commanding officer in the midst of an enemy camp. It was ridiculous.

Thal said nothing when she requested the food, did not even change his posture or expression when she looked, somewhat expectantly, and perhaps with a bit of doubt, in his direction afterwords. Very well, if she wished to die at the hands of animals, and... what exactly was one to call something whose body seemed unable to decide if it was a human or an animal, and only portrayed characteristics of both all over itself? If that is what the girl had escaped Calormen to do, then Thal would not stand completely in her way. It would cause them all less trouble in the end.

There were many things that had brought Thal to giving such reactions in situations like these. And for his very hard-placed distrust. But they were not things he ever intended to show Adelliana, who did not even realize that Thal hailed from Calormen himself. So he said nothing - did not even look her way.