Herrick wore the silver breastplate of his station, that morning.  Of course he did; Aurora had long suspected that he slept in his armor, to keep himself from ever getting too comfortable.  The sight of the Old Wolf, for some reason, made her anxious that morning.  Perhaps she gleaned some inkling of what her grandsire had planned from their empathic link, but the princess was too unschooled at the treacherous arts he practiced to think ahead to his next move, and walked, of her own will, into his plans.<br/><br/>The trunk table had been spread with cloth, bread and cheese and cold meats waited for their morning feast.  The rest of the guard's tent was empty, everything broken down and packed well ahead of time for the day's journey, even as her own possessions were now being packed away.<br/><br/>Aurora sat at the nearest place, and took a silver cup, filled with weak honey-wine.  "Good morning, Sir.  I trust you slept well."