<strong><em><span class="bbc_u">Fern</span></em></strong><br/><br/>Drawing a lip back over her teeth in an approximation of a feral snarl, the stench of the room overpowers, the gag reflex making itself very much known to Fern.  Her stomach roiling, protesting the inclusion of this scent.<br/><br/>"Ugh.  Ack."  Not an intelligent response, but appropriate.<br/><br/>Picking her way carefully, toe strike, roll to heel, before lifting the trailing foot.. toe strike, roll to heel, lift; Fern makes her way across the chamber.  Patience her friend, patience having saved her skin on multiple occasions, economy of movement her stock in trade.<br/><br/>With a grace born to her, Fern traverses the room, body kept low and quiet.  The sounds echoing from the unseen occupants of the other room etching itself deep into her brain.  A sigh of deep sadness creeping from her toes through her legs and along her spine to finally escape her lips at the likely cause.<br/><br/>Her eyes travel the gloom watching as Draque makes his way past, turning to get a glimpse of Miaren behind bearing the torch.  Would that they had never been forced to make this trip.  Would that the women had managed to escape or die on the soggy soil near their home.  With a shake of her head clearing the frustrated cobwebs from their corners of sentimentality, her eyes turn bright and angry towards the maw of sound.<br/><br/>Whispering just loud enough to carry to her companions.."Fuck this.. somebody's gonna die.  Lets make sure it ain't us." as they make their way within sight of what was within.<br/>