“All right, now watch, you two,” said Jicks. “Pay attention to how Stev and I attach the stuff to the burlap. That grass is going to serve as our yarn. I don’t have time to unravel this burlap, and even if I did, it’s the wrong color to blend in around here.” Abi watched carefully as she poked holes in the burlap with her knife, threaded hanks of grass through, and used the grass to knot the bracken and branches to the burlap, laying it all in one direction. Korlak proved surprisingly adept at this task, and with all four of them concentrating on it, they had four blankets of foliage they could use to hide under some time after noon. Abi’s fingers were sore and a bit cut by the sharp edges of the grass, but she was pretty pleased with her result.

“All right, you can see what we’re going to do, I’m sure,” Jicks said. “Now we’re going to move some supplies, the hinnies, and our hides back to where we were in the forest. Korlak, can you tell from where we were if they start scrying the area again?”

Korlak seemed to have grown in confidence since yesterday. He nodded.

Without any further ado, they loaded up the hinnies with the camouflage mats and the supplies and got into the shelter of the trees as fast as they could. Jicks was taking no chances that the priests might wake up from their stupors and start looking for evidence that they really were dead.

The hinnies were just as happy with the brush and sparser grass under the trees as they had been with the better pasture out in the open. The four humans settled themselves in a rough camp. They’d brought their bedrolls along this time, and they took some time gathering more bracken and spreading their blankets over it.

Meanwhile, the afternoon grew warm, insects buzzing everywhere. With a full belly and water, Korlak and his crow on the watch, she sat down on her bedroll and felt she might be able to relax.

And the next thing she knew, Jicks was nudging her awake with more traveler’s biscuits and a water bottle, and the sun was setting. “Any sign?” she asked.

“Nothing,” said Korlak, cross-legged on his bedroll, squinting at his master’s spellbook. “Kaw is out there on the wagon until sunset. If he feels someone scrying, he’ll come to us.”

“Kaw?” Jicks said incredulously. “You named your crow Kaw?”

“It’s his name,” said Korlak indignantly. “I didn’t name him, he named himself.”

Jicks gave him an incredulous look but didn’t comment further. Clearly, though, she thought he was making it up.

“Can they scry in the dark?” she asked instead.