Second part in the Lucidity story. As much as I'd -love- to take credit for the story, it's my husband's work. So thanks to you, Spectre, you're awesome. The return to the camp was uneventful, and luckily so. Luci really didn't believe she had the energy to fight right now. Her body was physically and emotionally drained, and she needed to gather what supplies were left and make use of what was at hand. Some time in the afternoon, she had gathered what she would need, and threw it into a pack to take with her. A modifed crossbow/blaster weapon was shoved into the holster made from leftover leather straps, and was belted to her waist. Food, water, and other items safely tucked away, she decided to regain some of her strength and settled down for a quick nap. Minutes turned into hours, as her mind drifted through ferocious nightmares that relived the failure the day before. She slept, but it was restless, and she tossed and turned, until the last rays of sunlight were shining across her face in a deep, crimson bath. Jerking awake, she rose and took little time to collect what she needed before setting out again. She had accepted the reality that morning when she was given her second chance, and she knew there would be no third time for this. It was now or never. Creeping back through the sewers, she took care to make as little sound as possible. The pack she left near the entrance, after tucking a few things beneath her belt behind her back, and then she was off again. How she managed it, she wasn't sure, but she recalled the path back into the city from beneath much easier than the way out. No circling around, just straight on through. Thankful that she encountered no resistance on the way in, she got a little careless and her feet splashed a few times a bit louder than she would have liked. Approaching the corner that led into the main sewer line that was right beneath the castle itself, she stopped dead cold in her tracks. One hand against the wall, she crept closer and paused, head tipped to listen. Was that breathing? Was it one of her comrades still alive? The gun was raised slowly, and her finger caressed the trigger as she leaned against the sewer wall, body tensed and ready to spring around the corner to confront whomever it was. However, there was this nagging little feeling in the back of her mind, that it was someone a lot more dangerous than one of the soldiers or townspeople above. And it was certainly not one of her team. None of them were -that- silent. Not like she was, and this was too close to her centuries old training to be a human. It was too.. perfect. A silence that could only be honed over ages. She never expected to be trailed by a spectre. Thanks for looking. ~C and SOD