replied.
They returned to the edge of the hillock, where Midnight had created a small clearing and made beds from cut brush. As Kelemvor and Adon approached, Midnight said, “I’m starving! Where are the corn biscuits?”
“In my saddlebags,” Kelemvor responded, pointing at his gear.
Midnight grabbed his saddlebags and looked inside, then turned them upside down. A few crumbs fell out, but nothing else.
Kelemvor frowned. “Are you sure those are mine?” he asked. “There should be a dagger, a heavy cloak and gloves, a bag of meal, and several dozen cakes of cornbread in there.”
“I think they’re yours,” Midnight replied. She grabbed another set of saddlebags and turned them over. The tablet and Adon’s mirror spilled out, but nothing else.
“We’ve been robbed!” Adon yelled. His cloak, food, and eating utensils were gone.
Alarmed, Midnight grabbed her own saddlebags and began rummaging through them. “Here’s my dagger, my spellbook, my cloak…” She pulled each item out as she named it. “Nothing’s missing.”
The three companions stared dumbly at their camp for a minute, hardly able to believe that someone had robbed them. Finally, Adon picked up the tablet and hugged it.
“At least they didn’t take this,” he said, putting it back in his saddlebags. Though he would miss the rest of his gear, he was so relieved not to have lost the tablet that he felt happy.
Kelemvor wasn’t so optimistic. “We’ll have a hungry night unless I catch us something to eat,” he said. “Perhaps you should start a cooking fire, Adon.” He removed the flint and steel from the pouch that hung at his neck and handed them to the cleric.
Midnight nodded, then gathered her things and placed them near Adon. “I saw a butternut tree as we came in. Its fruits are nourishing, if bitter.” The mage stood up and brushed herself off. “Take care of what the thieves left us, Adon,” Midnight said, turning toward the forest.
“Don’t worry,” Adon assured her. “It’s one thing to rifle un-watched packs and quite another to steal from beneath an attentive guard’s nose.”
“Let’s hope so,” Kelemvor grumbled, heading into the forest in the direction opposite Midnight. Though he did not say so, the fighter hoped that he would run across some sign of the thief.
An hour later, Kelemvor returned with nothing save a healthy dread of the nuts he would have to call dinner. Night had fallen quickly, and he had been unable to see any tracks or droppings. Even when he’d sat quietly alongside the trail, the fighter had heard nothing but the hooting of an owl.
Midnight sat beside a small fire, opening gummy husks with her dagger. In her lap was a pile of shriveled nuts that looked about as appetizing as gravel. Adon had gathered a sizable stack of wood and was using his mace to smash it into fire-sized sticks.
“No meat?” the cleric asked, obviously disappointed. He had already tasted some of the butternuts and was hoping that Kelemvor would bring back something else for eveningfeast.
“Plenty of meat,” Kelemvor answered. “All on the hoof and far away.” He grabbed his saddlebags and poked around inside, hoping the thief had missed a broken corner of corn cake. Save for a few crumbs, the sack was completely empty. Kelemvor sighed then decided to put away his remaining belongings before they also disappeared. “Let me have my flint and steel,” he told Adon.
“In your sack,” the cleric replied, throwing a stick onto the fire.
“They’re not there,” Kelemvor said, turning the saddlebags over.
“Look again,” Adon snapped, irritated by the fighter’s failure to return with a decent meal. “I put it there a half-hour ago.”
Kelemvor’s heart sunk. “The thief has returned,” he announced.
Midnight grabbed her own saddlebags and turned them over. They were empty. She turned on Adon. “You stupid oaf, my spellbook’s gone!”
“You were supposed to be guarding-” Kelemvor
They returned to the edge of the hillock, where Midnight had created a small clearing and made beds from cut brush. As Kelemvor and Adon approached, Midnight said, “I’m starving! Where are the corn biscuits?”
“In my saddlebags,” Kelemvor responded, pointing at his gear.
Midnight grabbed his saddlebags and looked inside, then turned them upside down. A few crumbs fell out, but nothing else.
Kelemvor frowned. “Are you sure those are mine?” he asked. “There should be a dagger, a heavy cloak and gloves, a bag of meal, and several dozen cakes of cornbread in there.”
“I think they’re yours,” Midnight replied. She grabbed another set of saddlebags and turned them over. The tablet and Adon’s mirror spilled out, but nothing else.
“We’ve been robbed!” Adon yelled. His cloak, food, and eating utensils were gone.
Alarmed, Midnight grabbed her own saddlebags and began rummaging through them. “Here’s my dagger, my spellbook, my cloak…” She pulled each item out as she named it. “Nothing’s missing.”
The three companions stared dumbly at their camp for a minute, hardly able to believe that someone had robbed them. Finally, Adon picked up the tablet and hugged it.
“At least they didn’t take this,” he said, putting it back in his saddlebags. Though he would miss the rest of his gear, he was so relieved not to have lost the tablet that he felt happy.
Kelemvor wasn’t so optimistic. “We’ll have a hungry night unless I catch us something to eat,” he said. “Perhaps you should start a cooking fire, Adon.” He removed the flint and steel from the pouch that hung at his neck and handed them to the cleric.
Midnight nodded, then gathered her things and placed them near Adon. “I saw a butternut tree as we came in. Its fruits are nourishing, if bitter.” The mage stood up and brushed herself off. “Take care of what the thieves left us, Adon,” Midnight said, turning toward the forest.
“Don’t worry,” Adon assured her. “It’s one thing to rifle un-watched packs and quite another to steal from beneath an attentive guard’s nose.”
“Let’s hope so,” Kelemvor grumbled, heading into the forest in the direction opposite Midnight. Though he did not say so, the fighter hoped that he would run across some sign of the thief.
An hour later, Kelemvor returned with nothing save a healthy dread of the nuts he would have to call dinner. Night had fallen quickly, and he had been unable to see any tracks or droppings. Even when he’d sat quietly alongside the trail, the fighter had heard nothing but the hooting of an owl.
Midnight sat beside a small fire, opening gummy husks with her dagger. In her lap was a pile of shriveled nuts that looked about as appetizing as gravel. Adon had gathered a sizable stack of wood and was using his mace to smash it into fire-sized sticks.
“No meat?” the cleric asked, obviously disappointed. He had already tasted some of the butternuts and was hoping that Kelemvor would bring back something else for eveningfeast.
“Plenty of meat,” Kelemvor answered. “All on the hoof and far away.” He grabbed his saddlebags and poked around inside, hoping the thief had missed a broken corner of corn cake. Save for a few crumbs, the sack was completely empty. Kelemvor sighed then decided to put away his remaining belongings before they also disappeared. “Let me have my flint and steel,” he told Adon.
“In your sack,” the cleric replied, throwing a stick onto the fire.
“They’re not there,” Kelemvor said, turning the saddlebags over.
“Look again,” Adon snapped, irritated by the fighter’s failure to return with a decent meal. “I put it there a half-hour ago.”
Kelemvor’s heart sunk. “The thief has returned,” he announced.
Midnight grabbed her own saddlebags and turned them over. They were empty. She turned on Adon. “You stupid oaf, my spellbook’s gone!”
“You were supposed to be guarding-” Kelemvor
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