Like hell I'm going to stay here.
That's what Finn told himself before sneaking away from the campsite. He waited a few minutes first, just to make sure Silvara didn't suddenly swoop back in and catch him mid-escape.
Once the coast seemed clear, he slipped off into the fog. The girls, naturally, followed. Chestelle trailed along without a thought in her head, like a sleepy duckling. Lickthorn clung to his side. Majestria, meanwhile, complained every three steps, swearing she wouldn't follow—only to eventually give in once it became obvious she was about to be ditched.
The fog was so thick it was impossible to see anything. Hearing was all they had—and that made things worse. Every creak of armor in the distance sounded like knights waiting to pounce. Finn used the noise to weave around patrols, but his job wasn't easy with three loud girls in tow. Subtlety went out the window the moment Chestelle started humming some insane tune and Majestria demanded to be carried.
