As they broached the camp she followed Hilda towards the fire and spread her own meat out on the cloths it had been wrapped in. From her pack she produced some twine and a large pouch of salt. This would be used for curing much of the meat in order to later preserve it for rations. It would be hung over the fire and slowly smoked until it was dry and a little tough, but would last many days. The innards and leftover bits were set aside to be ground and stuffed into sausages with the flask of blood and she shifted her claymore off her back to work alongside Hilda. As she worked she glanced now and again at what the other woman was doing, making note of the particular herbs she used and how she prepared the meat. An easiness settled over her as they slipped out of the discussion of things like fate and tradition and she could not help but smile at Hilda’s mention of the one she wished were here. “Who is it? If you don’t mind my asking?” It was more than likely someone Imenry did not even know. The Keep itself had been huge and full of people. She’d met only a handful of them before departing again with this new party. Some she’d known much longer and by some twist of fate ended up crossing paths with them again. Perhaps Hilda was right in that it was something that could not be fought against, and was not necessarily a bad thing.