Syra leant foreward easily and patted Plainswind reassuringly down the neck. The horse was plainly nervous - had been, ever since they really entered the swamp, actually, and the screams of that village girl - and the smell of that green stuff the plant had pumped her full of before she disappeared from view - hadn't helped any. Still, the mare had been vwell trained. It might not be a proper warhorse, trained to fight with and for its master, but she would stand for the sound and fury of mounted combat, which was all Syra supposed she could ask from her. When this was over, she supposed she could ask for a real warhorse... or she just might keep Plainswind. It would have already been through a lot with her, after all... and if it didn't run out when faced with an ogre, troll or even, if worst came to worst, the Old Dragon himself, well, who wouldn't want to keep such a horse?
Still, this clearing seemed safe enough, and with their guide turned into well-fucked fertilizer, they would have to spend more time each evening looking for a good camp, and this was as good a time as any to start looking. While they might have been safer if the peasant teen had still been with them - no matter how unhinged she was, she still seemed to very much want to stay uneaten herself - her final, cackling words before the plant vines had caught her had not been any indication that she should be trusted with *anyone's* safety. While Syra still felt a little guilty for not even trying to help the girl, Garret hadn't really had a hard time convincing her this was one damsel in distress not worth saving. Her brother had been right, too. The little traitor had been bragging they would all get eaten out here. Just went to show that the Lord worked to punish the wicked. No, she wouldn't spend much time mourning their so-called guide, but she did regret never learning the girl's name.
With any luck, they should be able to turn back, soon, anyway. The girl certainly thought they had reached the most dangerous areas of the old marshland, so there had to be something here worthy enough to win her spurs with. Syra had always realized this would be a hard test - when she returned with a great enough trophy, she would be the first female knight in Scarplain County for at least four generations. An ogre should do it... or certainly a minotaur. That was what Vivianne the Blissful had brought to prove *her* right of knighthood, as written in all the annals, after all... and what was good enough for the Founder of Scarplain, would certainly be good enough for her.
Syras held up her hand, and the little party following her stopped, the four girls bunching tight together while Garret drew his sword to stand ready. No sense in them all walking into a trap, if something was waiting in this clearing. Garret could always come to her aid then, if it turned out there was anything she couldn't handle...
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