Olga had a mischievous twinkle in her eye.  Slyly, for the ears of her companions alone: "There is some advantage to not having armor.  If our appointment with the<em>rodentia</em>goes poorly...well then, I don't have to outrun the little buggers...I just have to outrun the slowest one of you."  She took a piece of fruit, bit into it, savoring the juices.  It was certainly better than the porridge served to acolytes.<br/><br/>"This is a good place...hopefully, we shall return here tonight to toast our victory.  I believe the tactics Zemok laid out are quite sensible."<br/><br/>The priestess could sense that...something...had gone on between Zemok and Meredith, but as her Lightmother (the matron priestess who had been assigned as her superior at the temple) had been a stickler for matters of etiquette, she refrained from saying anything.