Saul shuffled himself over to the right edge, walking past and admittedly forgetting about Carrie (Who was now laying her stuff across one of the tables). He began opening drawers; sliding out boxes full of plant fiber and smooth stones, wooden stakes and rope. Starting from the top, box by box he went, finding nothing of current use. He got down to his knees, sifting through an opening at the bottom, pushing through folded lengths of cloth. Jorgen came from behind, opening the drawers above Saul's head to help check.

Carrie thumbed over the knife. A pretty thing it was, lighting glinting in reds and oranges off of a hazy jewel, just like the other trinkets and baubles in her fathers “Treasure Chest”. She poked at the empty air across from her, quickly carelessly throwing to the other side of the table; too gaudy with a blade too flimsy for any sort of work. She flipped the knife in her hand, dropping and scratching one of the tables, leaving a light gash and letting the knife rest there. She pulled out her watersack, holding it up in the air… After the battle last night she had found a puddle of some sort of thick blood pooled on the ground- Fighting against his sense of disgust and her abhorred nose she was able to spoon a good bit into this. Going against any sense of good judgment, she opened the sack.