The dirt path had seen more travel in these three days than it had in two months. The ghost of the path remained, foliage springing up throughout it. Bushes graced the paths’ edge, roots of nearby trees knotting themselves in front of any travelers’ foot. Though it was not a difficult trek; it was flat, direct and easily followable, an occasional creek making itself known along its snaking edge.

The travels had been mostly pleasant, a nice chill to the air, the sights and sounds of the forest were out in full force. Most would consider it nice, as would most of the current group traveling it. Of the duo who walked this a few days ago, one found it a pleasant route. Of the courier up ahead though increasingly out of sight, he thought the temperature perfect for a sprint. Of the five who were close to half way through, three found it soothing, one was thankful for the easy terrain, and one saw a very long road ahead.

Myer had been with the group since they had departed. Quiet, though present. He listened to Carrie make conversation with the others; talking mostly with Jorgen about his life at his dojo, trying to see if Ruach had ANY memories, or making small talk with Tracker. She had asked him a question or two, he gave quick and flippant answers, he knew he was being rude but wasn’t in the mood for interrogation. As the sun began to dip below the tops of the trees, Myers' feet began to shuffle and he began to leg behind, Tracker slowing his pace to match Myer, splitting the group in two. He was fiddled with his waterskin, fingers clumsily flailing about. A minute passed without any progress, his wrestling with it getting gradually rougher and more frantic. He would uncork it, only when it was flipped over. Nothing left but the new mud splashed around his feet.

Myer let a whisper slip back to Tracker, “That stupid bitch had to open her big fat mouth, can you believe this?”

Tracker responded, hushing his voice with halved effort, “I can.”

“Can’t believe this…”

“Quite.”

Myer took a pause in speech and walk, Tracker followed. The heads of both slowly rolled away from each other, focused on anything that caught their eye, anything to distract from the person right beside them. 

Myer spoke, “Yeah…”

Tracker responded, an inquisitive twang striking his voice, “Yeah?”

“I really shouldn’t be complaining to you of all people.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah…”

Another pause overtook both. Both put a few paces between themselves, walking on the edge of the path. Both contended with foliage, stepping over roots or ducking under branches (Myer rescuing his hat from greedy branches and Tracker continuously picking twigs out of his antlers).

Myer spoke, again, “I should at least thank you, thank you.”

Tracker asked, “For what?”

“For keeping watch last night- For the entire night- While we all slept?”

“It’s just a part of the job, no thanks required.”

“Oh…”

Myer silently fiddled with his waterskin, slicking his fingers with what remained and licking them. Through the rising hesitation, Tracker broke through the forming pause.

“Is that what's got you riled up?”

“Yeah…”

“Let’s be clear then. I got into this alone and will probably end up in a grave alone. It’s every man for themselves. However, a job is a job, and I am going to do things right.”

“How… Direct-?”

“I’m just trying to make a living…” Tracker points at Carrie “And so is she. Just trying to get a step ahead and make a good name for herself. When all you’ve got is your name and your strength you’ve gotta make some splashes somehow.”

“I get that. Trying to be a teamplayer here, just tired and frustrated is all, sorry about all my whining.”

“Oh no it's fine, I’m pissed off and want to get some actual sleep as well.”