Ashya pouted somewhat when the flask was taken away, but let it pass without comment. She was too tired to argue, and her head was swimming already. She focused on the food in her hands, taking tiny bites and chewing slowly while she listened to Imenry and Quintus’ words, her eyes fixed on the woman as she recounted her experience. It was still hard to imagine Imenry in trouble, although remembering the horrible creatures again, she knew no one could be invulnerable to them. She shuddered involuntarily, reminded of the horrid stench. The food in her mouth suddenly tasted foul and she turned her head sideways, spitting it out and wiping her mouth with distaste. Not very ladylike, but then she’d never been particularly ladylike to start out with.
She stared at the fire for a moment, her eyes red with fatigue and lack of sleep, before Quintus’ words belatedly filtered through. She shot him a sharp look, only slightly mollified with his smile which was obviously not meant to be challenging. “Well, that’s why we’re here,” she sniffed, holding her hand out towards the old man. “I need to wash away the taste. Give here. Please,” she added as an afterthought.
“I don’t see why people remained to take care of the camp,” she continued. She thought she vaguely remembered Quintus giving the order. “Wouldn’t one person have been enough?” Distracting herself with logistics was easier than she had thought, and certainly better to think about than darkspawn themselves.