Varsa stormed off deeper into the forest in search of firewood. Cache watched as Oxburgh set up the prince's tent and then his own. He hated the idea of camping. It was dirty, like Varsa.

"Should you not put up Varsa's? She is gathering wood for us..." He really just didn't want to hear her complaining about everything. She was a troublesome slave, and had no manners. He didn't want to continue to deal with it.

"But, Prince Cache, please. She should be the one setting everything up, fixing the meals, cleaning the dishes. She is the slave."

"You're right and normally that is how we would do things, but she is trouble, Oxburgh. I don't want to piss her off too much. She might murder us in our sleep. She is a mix-blood after all, and one with a chip on her shoulder." He chuckled at his poor pun.

The guard mumbled sarcastically under his breath but started on the rags and sticks that Varsa brought for a tent. Cache walked off to the other side of the road to admire the scenery. Nothing looked like this around the palace that he had ever seen. Large yellow flowers with bright orange spots dappled the forest floor. The autumn colors captured Cache's attention just like the painted buildings from before. He couldn't help the smile that spread across his face, thinking to himself that he wouldn't mind another trip out here under better circumstances.

Varsa returned with firewood, several logs stacked under her arms. Impressed was an understatement. Cache figured she was strong, but slave work had made Varsa hard as nails. She was like an ant carrying half her weight in logs.

Varsa walked past the guard, who was still messing with her tent. She stopped on a dime and dropped the logs, anger clear on her face.

"Great! What is wrong now?!" Cache stood up and saw what was rags and sticks from before was now a crumpled pile of slit fabric and broken equipment.

"Ibudic!" Varsa pushed the guard from her belongings, her yell thundering through the forest. She kicked him as he stumbled to get back up. "Get up!" She squared her feet and held up her fists.

Cache ran over. "What's going on?" He helped Oxburgh up to his feet. "How dare you kick a royal guard!" He glared between the two and then surveyed her tent more. "What did you do to her tent?"

The guard's eyes went wide as he shook his head. "N-nothing, my Lord. Her tent was already in bad shape. It just fell apart on me."

Varsa charged at him. "Bullshit!"

"Mistoa!" Cache grabbed her, to keep her from attacking Oxburgh again. She struggled against his arms as the guard laughed.

"She can sleep with me in my tent." Oxburgh smirked. "I'll keep her warm."

"I would rather die!" She spat at him. "I will just sleep in the car!"

"No!" Cache ordered, doing his best to mimic his dad's demanding tone. "If you sleep in the car, you will just steal it."

"I am not sleeping on the ground." She pushed against his chest with her back, trying to get out of his grip. Though Cache still had a few inches on her, he found it difficult to hold her back from the guard. She was stronger than she looked.

"Calm now, Varsa. Get your bedroll and rest in my tent for tonight." Cache let her go and she stumbled forward. "There's plenty of room."

"Fine." Varsa snatched up her backpack and stormed over to the tent, leaving the pile of firewood at the guard's feet. "Don't come to me if you can't get it lit, ibudics." She yelled back before throwing the tent flap down.

"Great..." He grumbled. Cache pointed at the tattered mess of Varsa's old tent. "Clean that shit up." The guard sprung to his feet and began to gather it.

Cache sighed, his eyes drifted from the tent where an upset Varsa was and the incompetent guard. He understood Oxburgh's hatred of Varsa, he didn't like her much either. She was a mix-blood, scum. The guard was making it worse on purpose though and he didn't want to spend the whole trip playing babysitter.

The guard cleaned up the old tent and started to work on the fire. Of course, they both had difficulty lighting it up as Varsa predicted. Cache didn't want to swallow his pride to ask her for help, but he was tired and freezing. He was a prince, and shouldn't be subject to such conditions. Cache breathed in deep and opened up the tent flap. Varsa sat at the furthest end, chewing on a hard piece of meat that was wrapped in cloth: Sellmilion - a Tek'arc favorite.

"Can't get it lit, can you?" She gave a harsh chuckle. "Ibudics," Varsa muttered.

Cache crossed his arms and leaned against the entrance. "Watch your attitude, rat. Are you going to keep the sarcasm or are you going to help? I know you have to be cold too."

"Tek'arc's have thick skin. It doesn't bother us until it gets below freezing." She sighed and stood. "You, though, would probably turn into an icicle. Then I will never hear the end of it" She shook her head as she laughed, walking over to the fire pit. "Listen up." She grumbled, pushing Oxburgh out of the way. "This is how you start a fire."

Varsa set to work setting up the larger sticks into a tent formation. She explained to them that the twigs and dried leaves would light the wood from underneath. With the tent formation, it would allow enough air to get to the fire to feed it, but not put it out. She took two smooth stones and held them out as if she were talking to children.

"You want to hold it at an angle so the sparks arch outward instead of straight up." She smacked the stones together a few times. Red and orange sparks erupted from the stones with each strike. They landed on the dried leaves. "See the smoke? That is a good sign. Now, all you have to do is give it a little blow." Bending close to the fire pit she blew onto the embers that had formed and flames leaped into action.

Cache laughed like a child who had seen a magic trick. "Very nice. Where did you learn such things?" The flames danced in Cache's eyes as he took in the red tone Varsa's skin turned in the firelight.

"My mother..." She stared at the fire as it licked up the sticks. "You are building the next one." She teased, sitting back.

"You don't give the Prince orders."

"She just saved us from turning into icicles." Cache laughed and waved at the guard to shut him up. "But I am not making a fire. Do you see these hands? They don't work. Oxburgh can build the next one." He paused, "But if I did build a fire, it would be better than this dump." He winked in her direction.

Varsa rolled her eyes. "Sure, whatever you say."

Nightfall made the forest ominous. Only the stars and moon gave off what little light they could, and most of it was blocked by branches. Varsa had already moved to the tent for rest, but Cache was hesitant. He was quick on allowing her to share a tent with him, but there was only so much room. He was nervous about just how close they would be away from each other. She was so dirty, would it rub off on him? And why was that not the only thing he was worried about?

"Get some rest, my Lord," the guard bowed and moved into his own tent.

Cache wasn't to stick around the darkness by himself so he had to face the inevitable sleeping arrangements. He pulled the flap back of the tent and walked in. There was no light in the tent, but he could still see Varsa's figure in the top corner, lying down. A thin, ratty blanket hardly covered her.

Cache pulled apart his bedroll and slipped inside. His heart was pounding so hard against his ribcage, he was afraid that Varsa could hear it. His legs twitched, he twisted and turned inside the bedroll. Rest would not find Cache. Rocks dug into his back, and the forest floor was hard and cold.

"Are you asleep?" Cache whispered so low, he hoped that she didn't hear it.

"I was..." She sighed, rolling over to face him. "I am going to make one thing very clear," her voice was low and threatening. "You stay on your side and I will stay on mine. If you touch me in any way, I will cut off your hands."

He swallowed hard. "Despite whatever reputation you have heard about me. I'm used to... sleeping alone. I wouldn't mind some conversation."

"Sleeping in tight quarters is nothing new for me." She was quiet for a second as she let out a deep breath. "What do you want to talk about?" Her voice was low and wavered, unsure about what to expect.

Cache thought about it for a second before asking, "What's your favorite color?"

Varsa laughed and shook her head. "I asked you first."

Cache tensed up, he was sure that Varsa could sense it too. "...Purple."

"Ah." She was quiet for a second as she rolled over to her back, staring up at the dark tent. "Mine is... yellow. Like a sunset on a cloudy day. That golden color before the sun disappears behind the mountains."

"Beautiful," Cache murmured. "But there's nothing better than the nighttime sky when it has that hue of purple with the sea of stars."

Varsa stiffened, not saying anything. Minutes ticked by as she let out a ragged breath. She rubbed her face as she nodded. "Yeah... the night sky is beautiful." She finally said, her voice cracking.

Cache listened to Varsa, hesitant on whether he should pry or not. He sighed. This slave had so many emotions. All the other slaves he had known were closer to robots than living creatures. "Are... are you okay? I mean, are you crying? Is sleeping next to me that bad?" He shook his head. "You know anyone would die to be in your position right now."

"My brother..." She sucked in a deep breath. "He liked the night sky too..." She turned away from him, curling into a ball. She held her legs close to her, doing her best to stay quiet.

Cache furrowed his brows, her words hung in the air. She said 'liked', but the whole reason she was here right now was supposedly for her brother. His eyes grew wide, the realization dawning on him.

"Varsa...Why did you say that in the past tense? He likes the night sky... not... liked. Right?"

A sob escaped her lips as she shook her head, pulling herself in tighter. She didn't trust her voice. It would open a dam she couldn't afford to break. Her body shook, the pain in her chest radiated through her.

Cache reached out and placed a hand on her arm as gently as he could. "Varsa?" She stiffened under his touch, scooting away from him. He could understand the sadness of losing someone close, but shedding tears for his siblings? Cache couldn't imagine that. Even so, he couldn't stand hearing a woman cry.

"I'm fine..." She whispered.

Cache moved his hand, knowing his touch wasn't a welcomed one. He didn't know what to say or do. He just watched her silently cry, letting the waves of guilt rush over him. The emotion was a new one for him. He didn't quite understand it and wasn't going to try to. Varsa stopped after a while so he figured that she fell asleep.

"Nalchu matorj," Cache whispered to her.

"Good night, Cache." She whispered back as the silence fell over them.