Húneth moved her arm very carefully. A dozen pair of eyes were watching her. She reached for the knife. One wrong move and... they would be disappointed.<br/><br/>The children were looking with fascination at the acrobat, balanced on only one hand on a pole, her body curved like a C, and holding a knife between her feet. She contorted her back so her legs were like the tail of a scorpion and the knife the stinger. She reached up with the free hand.<br/>She dropped the knife. The children gasped as she failed the catch it.<br/><br/>Húneth had not been a line-walker in her old life, but she had known one, calling herself The Lady. Húneth saw her perform a hundred times, and noted that every time she was halfway across the line, high above the ground, when the net had been removed, The Lady would wobble. The crowd would hold its breath, and The Lady would recover. Every time. She always seemed to almost fall, right there, halfway across.<br/>As a child Húneth had tried to help. She rationalized that there had to be a flaw in the string that The Lady walked on. She had gone through the entire length (on the ground) looking for a breach or a bump.<br/>There had been none. The Lady had smiled her mysterious smile and whispered a secret in Húneth's ear: The crowd wants to see you fail. If all goes according to plan, they will be bored. But if they think you might fall, then you have their attention. Always wobble once.<br/><br/>Always drop the knife once.<br/><br/>Húneth could not have performed this trick, could not have safely caught the knife a second time. But Húneth was weak. Húneth was largely unimpressive, and had to be protected. The Lady's real name had been Mathilde Grumpbump, but she was never the one who walked the line. It was always The Lady. Mathilde Grumpbump would probably have fainted from being that high up in the air, but The Lady would never fail, and only ever wobbled by choice.<br/><br/>Húneth could not catch the knife, but La Sauterelle could. La Sauterelle always could do.<br/><br/>La Sauterelle could catch the knife, always. With the speed of a striking viper, the hand on pole flew out, up behind her back and caught the knife, right before the point touched her back. The other hand, the one that had first failed to catch it, darted down and took hold of the pole. It all happened in a blink, and the children gasped again. La Sauterelle smiled, a big grin, as she unwound, her legs returning to beneath her head. She sat on the pole and twirled the knife, and the children applauded, and the parents watching seemed impressed as well.<br/><br/>La Sauterelle was dressed in a skin-tight outfit that might have been considered provocative, if she had anything to provoke with. A skinny elf, in a diamond pattern of red and yellow, a clown from head to toe. She was born to be a jester, green hair, mismatched eyes and purple skin, and being born in a circus certainly helped as well. Now she was in a camp for soldiers and refugees. There were so many frightened people, so many weeping children and grieving parents, or lost siblings. Húneth had to bring smiles to them, any way she could, even only temporarily and in a small, clown way.<br/><br/>Well, no, that was why Húneth would perform tricks. She had too many thoughts about things. La Sauterelle made people smile because she was La Sauterelle. No need for a deeper meaning. You contort, and you juggle and you fall in humorous fashions. No need for a reason. You could not be La Sauterelle without doing these things. To not sit on a pole and fail to catch a knife on the first try, would be to not be La Sauterelle. Simple as that. Simple world.<br/>La Sauterelle nodded and jumped down. Did a cartwheel, clicked her heels together, pressed her hands to what could perhaps charitably be called her bosom and bowed. The children clapped again, and La Sauterelle walked off in mock-military fashion.<br/><br/>Caldrian had just finished supper at one of the campfires that were set up around the camp. Caldrian could have retreated to his tent and eaten there in silence. No doubt the men around the fire with him would have been more at ease. No one really liked having their commander eating with them. It always made someone nervous. Caldrian however didn’t really think of himself as a leader or commander. He was just a dwarf trying to do right by the ancient teachings. There was more to his being here however, he was avoiding Azur.<br/><br/>Caldrian spent far too much time thinking about his sister and the loss of everyone. Everyone in this camp had lost someone. Here, that was a given. The number of refugees with them grew every day. He looked around at the running children, orphans most of them. Feeling  a pang of sadness. None of them were his precious Laisa and her children. He looked back towards the fire.<br/><br/>He had just set the plate down next to him wondering if he should head to prepare for the meeting or not when he heard the screams of a few children. Startled he rose and looked over to where they were running. It took him a moment to realize their cries were not of fear or pain, but of delight and excitement. They were running towards a performance of some kind.<br/><br/>Caldrian headed after them. Being almost as short as the children. Some even towered over him. He could easily make his way into their midst and not be noticed by them. He made his way to where a group of the younger ones sat in rapt attention to the woman above them. He turned his eyes to La Sauterelle and let the smile creep onto his features. As he joined the crowd in awed silence. Watching her perform a trick he’d seen far too often. Yet, never often enough.<br/><br/>He gasped as she missed the catch and awed as she caught it. Truly amazing. As she flipped over and landed before them he clapped along with the children. It amazed him just how much she could bend and twist herself. How fascinating her pirouettes were. Rising from where he had seated himself for the show he made his way towards where she was headed.<br/><br/>“Húneth hold up a moment I wish to walk with you,” Caldrian called out to her. Not being quite as fast as the taller races and having no desire to run.<br/><br/><br/>What a silly little man, he could not talk to Húneth. He was not allowed to; imagine all the things he would do to her. He could lie, and she would never know, or he could stab her and she would be unable to deflect the blow. The dwarf could shed his skin and reveal himself as a soul-eating monstrosity and what then? Húneth would be unable to do anything at all, not run, not talk, not jump, not strike. Húneth was only could good at hiding.<br/><br/>La Sauterelle turned around and gave the dwarf a good look over. He did not seem dangerous, but that was no excuse to let your guard down. He did not smell monstrous either. He smelled like everyone else here, of dirt and tears and sweat and blood – everyone here reeked of blood, no matter how often they showered. She turned her face up to look haughty and strong. Then she remembered he might not be out to lie and cheat and rip and tear, and she winked at him conspiratorially and gave a bow. She would give him a chance. She was ready. La Sauterelle was quick.<br/>“Is here. Will listen.”<br/><br/>Caldrian was dressed quite simply in camp. A pair of dark brown trousers with a pale brown tunic overtop and a leather vest. A thick belt tied at his waist held his axe, but the majority of his armor remained in his tent. He did not want to scare the children. His hair was braided back from his face and his beard was neatly trimmed.<br/><br/>He gave her a light smile, “It’s good to see the children smile again, it has been too long since such was seen here. Your presence here is most welcomed. I hope you plan to stay?” Caldrian asked his tone friendly and open. He rather liked this odd lady before him. He did not quite know what to make of her, but he did not quite care enough to try. Her presence lightened the mood in the camp and for a few precious moments had allowed him to forget the loss of his sister and her family, the loss of countless lives, the loss of the cities that had fallen, the war that stretched ahead of them. He blinked his eyes to keep the crashing weight of reality from drowning him in emotions.<br/><br/>One thing was certain. He really hopped that she would remain with them. The camp as a whole needed her. No. Caldrian needed her. That thought sobered him instantly.<br/>“Can stay.” She nodded and smiled but she was still focusing intensely on Caldrian, yet simultaneously it seemed she was looking somewhere else entirely, as if her mind was drifting through space, or trying to look inside of him.<br/>In fact, La Sauterelle was trying to look inside. She was trying to see when his flesh bulged and bubbled. It would be proof of the monster inside, wearing dwarf skin as a disguise, as Húneth was wearing La Sauterelle. She was considering a pre-emptive strike. The knife was still there, in her hand. She could throw it. Húneth had been no knife thrower, but La Sauterelle could always hit her mark now.<br/>“Will cheer. Perhaps… will help?”<br/>There was nowhere to store the knife. Her outfit was tight and smooth. No pockets.<br/>“Can do all. Always can do.” And she nodded again, quickly, never taking her eyes of him long.<br/><br/>Caldrian could sense that he was making her nervous. At least that is what he thought her darting eyes meant. He gave her a gentle smile figuring that he ought to let her go about her business. Let her get settled into the camp after a night’s performance she might even be hungry. He hadn’t thought of asking her if she had had any food.<br/><br/>“Thank you, your cheering does help a lot. It’s something the survivors desperately need,” Caldrian said with a gentle smile. He wondered briefly if she spoke the common tongue well enough to understand what he was saying. It wasn’t uncommon for some travelers to speak their native language and not the common one. It was what Caldrian attributed her broken speech too. Caldrian was not a suspicious man by nature. He took things at face value. This would probably be the death of him someday. Today wouldn't’ be that day. He could all but hear Azur in his thoughts<span style="font-style: italic">one day your trusting ways will get us all killed Caldrian.</span>Caldrian shook the thought away and refused to be suspicious.<br/><br/>“If there is fighting seek me out, I will protect you and insure you are safely away from the more dangerous positions,” Caldrian offered kindly. He didn’t know if she was any good in a fight, but he didn’t want to risk it. Her presence in the camp was better served in the entertainment and cheering of those who called this camp home rather than in the thick of the war. He realized he’d have to head out soon. The meeting with his advisors and the other military leaders would commence soon.<br/><br/>She titled her head and for the first time seemed to relax a little. A monster would not offer to protect her. A monster would not fight other monsters. Then again, she did not need protecting. Being protected was Húneth’s job, La Sauterelle was always safe. Nothing would ever endanger her. Silly dwarf.<br/>“Can fight. Will fight.” She waved the knife around in front of her with no show of proficiency. “Need not worry. A grasshopper jumps; source of power.” And she smiled again and nodded once, firmly.<br/>“But… must hold knife. No sheath.” She made a show of padding herself down as if to demonstrate that there was indeed nothing hidden on her, and definitely no room for anything to be hidden in. “Strong enough; will win fights. With hands free, will save all. No hands; price of being La Sauterelle.” And she made an exaggerated pout at Caldrian.<br/><br/>Caldrian was taken aback by her words. He wondered at her odd choices and didn’t really know what to make of them. He gave her a gentle smile, “I have no doubt you could hold your own. Your skills are definitely impressive. I meant no offense to you in that regard, never the less be safe, my lady. Sadly though I must part ways here, I have a meeting that calls my name and many a grumpy elders who cannot wait.”<br/><br/>With those words Caldrian offered her a light bow and took his leave heading back towards his tent and those who were already assembling inside it. Let the fun times begin he though dryly to himself as he headed towards one of those annoying things where everyone argued over details that were about as important as grains of sand in a desert.<br/><br/>La Sauterelle looked after the dwarf. Her head remained tilted. It remained tilted for a long time. The world kept shifting, going up-wise while she fell. Or, it felt like falling, but she was in control. A controlled fall was almost flying. The world kept shifting. She was no longer just tilting her head, she was standing on one leg, and her torso was parallel to the ground. From this angle, the dwarf was ascending. This angle fitted the world better; it meant the Mist was rolling up from below. La Sauterelle could not yet see it. The scouts had not yet seen it, and the alarms had not yet sounded.<br/>Last time she had just been Húneth. Húneth had lost everything. Húneth had been unable to do anything. This time she would fight. If she got scared, it was just Húneth poking through. When the mist roil over the war camp, the beasts would find an encamped warrior.<br/>She had a knife, after all.