Two arms of Shy’s secret reached out to give her some luck tonight. The first was that her flighty caution, the one which had earner her name, was enough to leave her completely confident she’d not been seen in the woods. It was possible that Esfelt had caught a glimpse of her, weaving into the trees, but her secret pool was such an utter task to reach that it would have been obvious if he’d found her at her most vulnerable. It was only after several weeks of regular practice, scurrying through the thick brush, that Shy had been able to approach her little sanctuary in silenct.<br/><br/>The other, was that she had nothing between her legs to make her fearful of Esfelt’s sudden imposition. It made her look remarkably steely-eyed, staring up at him from the flat of her back. She was breathing slow from her nose, teeth grit, as she’d put up a good scuffle before submitting to this particular pose. It was not her place to fight her superior overmuch, not before they’d even left town. It had been the flash of inspiration, reminding her that her place with this imposing knight was tenuous, not Esfelt’s well-trained bullying, that had finally had her roll compliantly onto the floor.<br/><br/>“No, Ser. I’m not afraid.” Shy said, and it was wholly true. She’d not tasted fear again, like she’d tasted the spray of her brother’s blood in her mouth. She did not expect ever to experience fear like that again. It was easy enough to find that kind of courage when she’d already let Lark die in Will’s place. When she’d taken his name it had only been half with the thought of vengeance. The rest had been the determination to give way to her brother’s life in lieu of her own. It was an ill-fated sort of homage, but it was what let Shy stare up at Esfelt with the kind of expression Will had worn for the raider who’d cut him down.<br/><br/>“Do you often put your recruits on their backs?” she asked him then. “Or have I done something, in particular, to earn this favor of yours?” It was a wild mix of an untamed tongue and remarkable naivety that did not seem to fully grasp the way the knight was looking at her. To her own detriment, she might well have sounded downright whorish had the same thing rolled from her lips and she was still wearing her own name.<br/><br/>She stared at him for a long time from where she lay, those furious green eyes giving the impression of a caged beast. It would be apparent then that Shy had a lot more fight in her and a lot less willingness to exert it. A certain debt to Silverum and the power he wielded—of position, not physique. It was that fire that had drawn Marius in. That bizarre surety in Shy’s expression that would willingly challenge a more imposing man with no concept of defeat. “I’m well, in so much as I’ve been waiting for the chance to meet these Coldmen again. I’ve never met their magic, but I’ve seen them bleed, same as me. All I want is the chance to be the one to cut them open. I only got to watch, last time.” Shy said. It wasn’t an unheard of story, but it was no less her truth.<br/><br/>“So, I have to thank you, Ser, for agreeing to take me with you. I won’t disappoint.” She might have made Marius proud, finding some proper humility in herself to say such a thing. It was the sort of genteel flattery Marius had assured them all that knights enjoyed from their high horses. The good guardsmen would have been less proud, and a lot more concerned, that Shy was saying such a thing from the flat of her back. “You’ve confirmed that I’ve bathed, as you asked. Thoroughly. Was there anything further you required, Ser, or am I free to go?”<br/><br/>Shy thought she was being quite decently manly, to maintain her composure in such a position, speaking to him like she was on her feet. She had not come to understand his motivation, though, nor the deeper hole she was digging for herself, or that her own cockiness was welling from a keen discomfort over the way his dark eyes held her. The insinuations in his tone were not wholly lost on her, but it was in that area, above all, that she could not show any weakness. It was, perhaps, a test of her constitution and her grit for whatever abuse he wished to heap on her later. Shy was determined to withstand it. Surely any good soldier would. She’d not be picked out as weak, no matter what his belligerent teasing desired.