Firefly Glen relationships are in the pits and nothin’s goin’ right

once more, praimfaya slips out of moonspear's borders, without company. she would ask dacio but he is healing from his wounds and she, bearing the four kill marks upon her shoulder, is certainly capable of holding her own. still, she knows better than to be arrogant. she is alert and stays close to moonspear so that she is only a call or short jaunt away from its borders. the glen, she finds, is narrow, thick with vegetation and the ground is soft with muck. like stepping in mud and on moss at the same time; an equally as unsteady.

the commander isn't impressed.

just as she is about to turn and head back to moonspear — certain there was nothing of worth here — a voice calls out. for an instant, praimfaya considers not answering but after a moment she lets out a low answering chuff and proceeds forward, towards the voice with caution.