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</div><br/><br/><i>"And how have you come by this information? For some one who has never been to the Outpost, you seem to be privy to information you shouldn't be aware of..." </i>Suddenly the Captain was beside him, his leg tucked behind Will’s and holding his horse in check. And then, the knife.<i>"...so explain yourself, before I gut you where you sit." He hisses, his voice full of venom and violence.</i><br/><br/>Will let out a slow breath between his lips, slowly raising his hands off his reins an inch to indicate he wasn’t about to try to flee. “Captain, there is no need for<i>that</i>,” he said, canting his head slightly to indicate the knife that was threatening his belly. “I assure you, I am<i>your</i>man. I’m a scout, a tracker by trade; not just of things and people, but information. And though I’ve never seen the Outpost myself, it seemed, eh…” a jostling from his horse pressed the tip nearer his beloved skin, “prudent, Sir, to learn as much as I could from those who have.” His eyes widened slightly at the last word.<br/><br/>He smiled at the man holding his life in that curved blade. “People talk when they drink. I listen. Besides, if I meant you harm, wouldn’t I have been better served by<i>not</i>asking you these questions?”<br/><br/>“Now please,” he said, looking at the eyes of the man beside him. So much violence and distrust…he must have been betrayed at least once. “I am a much better scout with my entrails inside my body.”<br/><br/>There was nothing he could have done, had he wanted to. The women were, as far as he knew, hopeless when it came to things of violence. No doubt Red was loyal, as were the soldiers, and to take his changes across the pathless grasslands was suicide. There was no profit in doing anything but waiting on the decision of their leader. Despite the pounding in Will’s chest, he knew that the best thing he could do was wait, and hope that somehow his words had made an impact on the Captain.