Kragga *clacks* her jaws together, an orcish gesture that's as startling as it is ambiguous. "Another night here. As you say. I travel light; my weapons are simple, I need no whetstones to sharpen them, and food... tends to take care of itself." She grins, showing fangs. "Waterskins mostly. And some bedding. Cheap and easy." Without further ceremony, the orcish woman stands up, stretching and popping a few bones in her back with a loud clattering sound. "You may have trouble finding a horse that will not panic rather than allow me to ride," she warns, again showing her fangs in a toothy grin. "And those other groups were not us, so their experience does not predict ours. We will go, we will come back. It isn't worth worrying about," she brushes off the risk easily. After all, she'd charged into what appeared to be certain death a dozen times in her raiding career. Why get worked up about another?