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and sat down. He worked the room counter-clockwise until he met every person in the caravan, sharing stories and drink with all. The hours went late into the night and he was in great spirits learning about all his new comrades. He retired to his tent and laid down to sleep, letting exhaustion overtake him and force his mind to rest.

Chapter IV
The Road First Traveled
    The moonlight reflected brightly in the dark black orbs of the hooded observer. She stared down at the caravan from a nearby tree. She sighed impatiently, waiting for the extinguishing of the torches to indicate the camp's bedtime. A short time later, she observed the torches go out one by one, taking note of the newest addition to the group turning in for the night, a tan elf with green eyes and black hair. An oddity among the human ranks of merchants. She smiled widely as the final torch went dark.
    With agility on her side, she climbed down from her high roost. She dropped the last few feet as her hide moccasins hit the ground without making a sound. She crept over to the tents slowly, peaking in each one with the excitement of a child in a candy shop. Fidel's tent piqued her interest the most. She noticed he only carried a single, small hip pack residing on the floor beside his cot. No weapons. No other items. Yet the smell of several pastries filled the air in his tent. The bag appealed to her.
    She slowly glided into Fidel's tent, staring intently at his back looking for signs of stirring. She heard a couple sentries talking in the distance. She reached down and grabbed the pack, opening it up to see a miniaturized smorgasbord of goodies. Suddenly, the tent flap snapped shut and Fidel rose to his feet, smacking the pack out of her hand.
    In a panic she attempted to run through the wall of the tent, only to slam into an invisible force knocking her down on her buttocks. She looked up at Fidel and he stared down into her black orbs, hard. She started to speak but no sound could escape her lips. Something invisible grabbed her left hand and then her right, pulling her arms behind her as-if caught by some invisible sentry. She looked up at Fidel, her eyes pleading for forgiveness, her face guarded by the black shroud covering all but her eyes.
    “Tell me your name, thief.” Fidel said flatly.
    She started to speak and found sounds were now permitted to form. “My name is Abigail. Abigail Lapillus. Please sir, please don't have me arrested. I was simply hungry and your tent smelled the finest of them all!” Abigail crossed her legs over each other, showing she had no desire to make an escape. She bowed her head in obedience.
    “Abigail Lapillus? I know that name, although I do not know why. Do you live in Harlow's Hovel?” Fidel pressed on gently. She shook her head fiercely. Fidel stood over her for a minute, trying to decide what to do in the situation. “What do you propose I do?” he asked. She looked up at him with a desperate look in her eyes.
    “Let me go and I will never bother you again,” she stated. Fidel entertained the idea but, instead, he sat down in front of her on the ground and opened his pack.
    “What kind of food do you prefer?” he inquired.
    Abigail looked at him with surprise. “You would feed me after I have tried to steal from you?” 
    “Who said I was going to feed you?” He said with a very serious look. “Perhaps I was going to eat your favorite food in front of you just to upset you more.”

 
    Abigail's head drooped at the notion, her previous lifestyle proving such an act was very much possible.
    Fidel laughed and placed a hand on her shoulder. “I'm just kidding Abigail! I know a little of the rough life and having to starve. Please, what is your favorite smell emanating from this pack? By the way, my name is Fidel.”
    She described the smell of roast with potatoes so he pulled the meal from his pack. He then released her bonds and informed her she was free to go. Abigail nodded her head in thanks and