Don admitted that Dean was much more likely to be the murderer than the murdered, and Aza bit her lip and looked at the fox and thought of the courtyard's bloody aftermath. Don also assured her that Dean wasn't<em>gone</em>-gone, that he could still 'feel' him.<em>But what if,</em>she wanted to ask,<em>it's not <strong>him</strong> you're feeling?</em><br/><br/>Well, maybe she was wrong. It wasn't a possibility she often entertained, but occasionally she maybe might be.<em>Maybe</em>Donovan knew what he was talking about. Maybe the shadowy murderfox would just fade away as Dean regained or redeveloped himself, or whatever. Then they'd just be back to normal. Except for Methuseld, of course. Aza had no idea how to explain the situation with Methuseld, except that it was probably Dean's fault too.<br/><br/>Aza still had her nice but bloodied cloak, and she huddled up beneath it and tried to ignore everyone for awhile. She didn't mind the heat so much, and at least she was out of the sun's direct rays, unlike the slowly frying Ravishing. Whatever dark forces held sway over the general protected her from magic monks but not sunburn, apparently. The fox didn't seem negatively affected by the day, just draped itself over the front of Don's saddle and appeared to nap once everyone else went quiet.<br/><br/>At their makeshift camp, the foxgirl gingerly slid down from the horse after Ravishing did, wincing and sighing at the protestations of muscles forced to run and ride all day. Aza was not an athlete. She made a muffled coughing noise when Ravishing insisted to their horse that she wasn't 'that fat,' but that was probably just desert dust in caught in the girl's throat.<br/><br/>The fox whined at Don until he set it on the ground, then went on a busily sniffing exploration of the rock pile, pausing to lift its leg in more than one spot. Aza found a nice cool swath of shadow and gave a long lithe stretch and yawn, and kept at least one wary eye on the little animal as it circled about, until Ravishing dropped a pack nearly on top of her while declaring it dinnertime.<br/><br/>"The desert, how far?" she asked Don, figuring him to be the most likely source of answers. "Until a city again?" She scooped a waterskin from the goods Ravishing had dumped, helpfully toting it over and holding it out to him, like maybe being friendly would somehow shorten the miles of desert they still had to traverse.