Valla watched the priest leave, liking him more and more. Saul was a good man.<br/><br/>Exhausted, Valla sat down near Tommy. There weren't beds as such in the camp, but they made do with what they had. Valla gathered a few rumpled articles of clothing and made a pillow, laying down and resting her head, staring at the tent ceiling.<br/><br/>Saul's words echoed in her head, and she realized they had something in common: fear of being lonely. Valla knew that if she went to Julian's camp, then she would be cut off from Tommy and really be on her own, and that frightened her. Saul's instincts were correct, the spell-casters should all stay together.<br/><br/>She turned her head and looked at Tommy. There was still some blood on his chin, presumably where it had splashed up when he was struck in the chest. Valla reached over and waved her hand in front of his face and as her palm passed, the blood and dirt were gone leaving Tommy's face clean. She smiled, liking him better that way.<br/><br/>Valla had almost forgotten about her torch stick. She had laid it down when she entered the tent. She picked it up and shook it, extinguishing the magic and plunging the tent into darkness.<br/><br/>Valla was tired. She curled up beside Tommy and allowed herself to fall asleep, and at some point in the night she clutched Tommy's arm and held it until dawn.