Watching the prisoners, Liirah didn't notice the older woman's approach until she spoke. Though still jumpy with nerves from the previous skirmish, she was too tired to do more than startle slightly, relaxing almost as soon as she caught sight of the lady's garb. Though not particularly religious herself, she, like many hunters, appreciated the help the Evangelists offered. Her mentor had even been one of them for a time, before splitting to take on the life of a Blackguard.<b>"It's a welcome second chance for some," </b>she answered, looking back to the chain gang.<b>"There's more than one of us who found our calling in the job, even if our introduction to it was less than ideal." </b>Had it not been for her mentor's intervention, she may have lived her life picking pockets until she was eventually caught and hung. She scowled nevertheless, eyes growing stormy as she watched a pair of mounted Blackguard corral the group with rough words and their horses' bulk.<b> "Still. They're not cattle, they don't need to be treated like it." </b><br/><br/>Despite her sullen temper, she took the ration with a grateful word, her stomach growling conspicuously as she unwrapped the paper. Amazing how exhaustion and hunger could make even the simplest fare appealing. Her attention was pulled from her meal as the woman asked after her own company, eyes going to the mud-covered insignia stitched into her cuirass.<br/><br/>She sighed at the woman's question, eyes downcast.<b>"I'd like to know that myself." </b>Most every Blackguard, at least those who took the job seriously, had a company or insignia to rally behind--even those who usually worked alone. For Ignatius Blackward, Liirah's missing mentor, it was a simple symbol: a kite shield stitched in silver thread. Even so, it had been enough to identify him as one of the most well-established lone hunters in the region, and any others who bore it as having connections to him. The man's surname was no coincidence either--his ancestors had been some of the first to take up the mantle of "Blackguard", passing down the mantle from parent to child. Ignatius had no children of his own, but he had come to care for the girl as if she was his own blood. Perhaps she might have taken on the name herself, had she ever thought herself worthy.<br/><br/>Her musings were interrupted as the woman spoke again, introducing herself.<b>"Oh--Liirah," </b>she answered, half-distracted by her own thoughts and the unfortunate souls slogging through the mud. She winced slightly as Shae examined her wounds, but though her jaw tightened as she began to clean them, she made no move to stop the woman or pull away. Better to weather a bit of pain now than deal with septic wounds later.<br/><br/>To distract herself, she looked back to the chained prisoners, eyes again going to the boy she had been watching before. As he turned his head, affording a clearer glimpse of his face, Liirah's brows furrowed slightly at the rich color of his irises--almost more red-hued than normal. After a moment, however, she dismissed the observation as anything warranting concern. It was likely just the glow of the lanterns that gave his face a fiery tinge, as they did to everything around the wagons. She flinched as Shae's gentle ministrations moved over a particularly sensitive injury, but managed to keep herself still a bit longer.<b>"How long have you been traveling with Raven company?" </b>she asked the woman, trying to keep her mind off it. She was curious about the group, anyway. While she had never worked with them herself, her mentor had hunted with them in the past. Perhaps someone among their ranks would remember him or be able to point her in his direction.