Shaking away an image of this particular hero standing in a field, chewing a straw and speaking with the worst hick accent in the history of life, Wyl silently promised himself not to go that far with teaching Dane Volen. There was no way he would be able to keep from snickering every time the man said anything. That wouldn’t help them with anything and would just make people stare even more at them when he wanted them, needed them to be as invisible as possible.<br/><br/>“Right. Farmin’ tools and chains. To each their own. Now, I’m just gonna pop away and return these clothes to their rightful owners. Don’t go anywhere, savvy?” Wyl winked at the man, grabbed the useless clothing and then disappeared into the night.<br/><br/>Returning the clothing was simple. They hadn’t been gone all that long, really, and the people he took them from were still dancing various version of the horizontal dance, so slipping the garments into place was easy. The fact that his scent would stick to the garments, probably enough to throw off Crast’s attack dogs was a bonus.<br/><br/>Every time he went into the heart of the small town, or came back from it, Wyl took a different route. It was a good precaution but also an annoying one, and it took him longer and longer to make his way back to where he had left his new travelling companion. The man was where he had left him, waiting like a faithful hound. Had it been Wyl waiting for someone he would probably not have bothered, and would have been miles away by now the second his chains had been removed.<br/><br/>And speaking of chains…<br/><br/>Wyl appeared out of the shadows from a completely different direction than expected, jumping over the wall easily.<br/><br/>“Okay, darlin’, off with the clothin’.” He crouched down next to Dane Volen, the Alverstone drawn once more. “Let’s see if we can’t remove that last bit of chain from ya and get ya dressed in proper clothin’. We still need to gather everythin’ up and carry it away. My powder ain’t gonna last too long now, and Crast’s not as stupid as I’d wish for him to be. We need to mosey along. At the very least to the creak and then some more until we can reach our campin’ grounds.”<br/><br/>He gestured at Dane Volen again.<br/><br/>“What are you waitin’ for, love? A gold-inlaid invitation? Off with those rags!”