Myranda miller let out a breath and adjusted her weight again on the pile of- whatever it was. She only knew that it didn't smell great and she couldn't believe that they had taken a job for a copper a day... what did they look like? A bunch of wet behind the ear greenhorns?<br/><br/>At any rate, she sat on top of the cargo in the middle wagon and scanned the surroundings for the unusual from her vantage point. Not to mention the greater benefit of saving her feet for when she needed to actually run. It had only been an hour on what promised to be a 7 day journey. 167 hours to go, she told herself and absently rubbed the horn bow in her hands; checking for defects by touch. Life could be better than this, but it could also be a lot worse, if you thought hard enough about it and tried really hard to make it worse. In which she was not doing. She reached back and pulled a ball of wax from her haversack. With just as little supervision, she waxed the bow string She did drop her eyes every minute or so to check in on Bear, the smilodon that she had picked up when it couldn't be much more than a month old and fed it herself and forned a bond with it.