[Firefoot]

So be it, thought Sondo wearily. They would spend another night here, since it seemed that at least half if not all the others were against him. He wondered where he stood in their eyes. He doubted that he was the same high-ranking leader that he had been at the beginning. Maybe you're losing it, thought Sondo to himself. He was the leader, not the dictator. It was a nice niche, so long as the leader status was maintained.

He was slightly startled at Falco's hand on his shoulder. He met Falco's eyes and saw only friendship. He smiled back. "If you don't mind... I'd like to talk with you tonight," he murmured. Falco nodded, and Sondo addressed the rest of the group.

"Come on, then," he said. "Let's get camp set up before it is utterly dark." He caught the relief on several faces as he turned to lead them away from the Withywindle's bank. He stopped about half way between the marshes and the river, figuring about an eighth of a mile to be far enough distant. He was only too happy to put down his pack; after carrying it all day, it seemed much heavier than it actually was. The others set up their bedrolls as well, and then they started to unpack some dinner.

As he had expected, the bread was soggy and had to be thrown out. The meat was wet and cold since there was no fire to heat it, but otherwise edible. The fruit seemed little the worse for the wear. After the food had been doled out, Sondo waved Falco over. Falco fell into step beside him, and after a few moments of uneasy silence, Sondo said, "I guess we were both acting kind of stubborn, back when the raft crashed." Pride told him that Falco had been more wrong than he, and the mutiny still hurt. But in the end, his friendships were worth more to him than grudges, and Falco had been a good friend. And maybe he shouldn't have lost his temper like he had... He gave Falco a jaunty smile. "Friends?"