When morning came, Keller was furious.

"Why are you still awake?" he demanded in a booming voice.

Shephard's red streaked eyes looked up at him. "I'm watching the camp," he replied softly, blinking heavily.

"You were supposed to get someone else to watch half way through the night. Damn it, Shephard, you know how this works!"

"There was no need. I wasn't tired."

"You are no good to us if you can't fight. If someone attacked us right now-"

"I'd fight until death," Shephard interrupted.

"I know. But your death would be quick and then you'd be no further help to us, now would you? You need sleep. You need to eat. I know being out here is hard for you. But toughen up, because we need you and right now, you're useless."

Shephard held back an angry retort. Nothing made him angrier than when someone told him he was incompetent. Slowly standing up, he made towards their gear. "I'm going to make breakfast."

"I'll make breakfast. You get some sleep."

"We set out in an hour. There's too much to do."

"You're going to ride like that?"

Shephard looked at him with impatience. "We've all had times where we've been awake for days in the midst of the war. You're making something out of nothing. Now please, if you want to be useful, get the fire going."

It was only as he was turning towards the horses again when he spotted Hero, watching them. With a sigh of frustration, he went to do the necessary chores to get their camp moving.

He served breakfast himself as usual, but instead of giving the first plate to Keller as the second head of group, he gave it to Hero.

She took it gratefully, no doubt hungry, but she couldn't stop her nose from wrinkling at the uncooked oats floating in water. He had made it once before and she had barely got it down from the small flakes getting stuck on the lining of her mouth and throat. Filling, but it lacked any taste at all.

The men washed it down eagerly, used to such rations, then moved on to other chores. Hero finished some time later, then took care of her sleeping things and prepared her own horse. It was the sixth day on the trail and she was taking to it quite well. Though he'd never say it, Shephard was both impressed and pleased with the ease of her transition. Rider thought so too, but voiced his delight.

"You're really getting the hang of this," Rider said in approval, looking over the straps of the horse's saddle.

Hero ran her hands through her horse's brown mane. She was growing quite fond of her horse, dappled of brown and small bits of white, reasoning the mare's name of Dapples. "It's a nice change from being locked up all the time. AngelStone was beautiful, but constricting. My home was cozy but suffocating. The outdoors, while it has it's obvious disadvantages, is actually quite lovely."

"I'm glad you're so positive. We'll be setting off soon. If you need to do anything else, I'd suggest doing it quick."

Not needing any more time and proving she could keep up with the men, she mounted her horse. The wind whipped her hair against her face, which she quickly remedied by pulling it back in a bun and tying it securely.

Shephard hid his smile as he finished packing his own horse close by. Hero looked like the regal woman she was, sitting proud on the horse he had raised from it's birth. He never had taken a woman with him on any journey before, but he could bet that any other girl wouldn't be as easily conforming as Hero.

"Just like her father, she is," he whispered in to his horse's ear.

"Might want to be careful saying that out loud," Frost said, his hand on Shephard's shoulder, "or does she know all about that already?"

Shephard shook his head. "I haven't told her. I don't think it's wise for her to know just yet."

"Do you think it's wise to keep her in the dark? She looks like she has quite the temper. If she'd find out from someone else..."

"Exactly why I don't want to tell her. She does have a temper. And a mind of her own. Both are dangerous when you add knowledge to them. Especially out here."

"But Thorne didn't do anything bad, Shep. He was a great man. Why keep that from her?"

Shephard secured the last saddle bag with a rough tug of the leather strap. "He abandoned her, Frost. He hid his true self from her, risked both of their lives...he raised her on nothing but lies. He's the reason her mother is dead. The reason she's an orphan and is here now. His inheritance to her was this great danger. Should I tell her about that? The horrid fate that awaits her if we should fail? Should I tell her exactly why Cavillin is on her trail? Do you think that would make it all better?" he whispered hoarsely.

Frost saw the raw pain in Shephard's eyes and was truly shaken to recognize it. What was Shephard known for if not for the fact that nothing got to him. Nothing upset him. Nothing reached down to touch that dark, cold, dead heart of his. But clearly, the subject of Hero had.

"I thought he was your hero."

Shephard shrugged. "I'm sure she thinks that herself, her father, her hero. Why should I ruin that for her? Why must I be the one to hold this question, this responsibility to her? I don't want it, Frost. I wish I could be rid of it. But I know that it would be the end of her carefree thoughts. The end to her laughter and her smiles. Who am I to do that to her?" He shook his head sadly. "The worst part it, she thinks she hates me now, when she doesn't even know why she needs to."

"No matter what her fate is or what her father did, it's not your fault. It hasn't anything to do with you."

"No? It's doesn't? So all those times I called on him...all that responsibility I made him feel for me..all those times I took him from her, that wasn't my fault? It's my fault he's dead. I let him die. No, I do believe her pain is a good deal of my fault."

Keller came up to them, leading his horse behind him. "We're ready."

Shephard nodded, then mounted his horse. Frost left his side to get to his own horse, accepting that their conversation was over.

They formed their normal riding positions, with Hero securely in the middle of their diamond figure. Shephard watched as the sun began to rise above the mountains in the distance and scowled. Frost made sure to mentally note to not bring up the subject of Hero and Thorne to him again.

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The sun was high above them now, but Shephard's mood was still foul. What was making it worse was Rider's endless chattering and bad jokes, his attempt at keeping Hero content. However, even she seemed to be getting tired quickly of his endless talk, though she kept a sweet smile on her lips and added laughter at all the right times.

Still, Shephard noticed that it was not Rider who held her gaze. Those blue flashing eyes kept clashing against his own. At first she had blushed each time he noticed her staring, but by now she was becoming more bold, holding the gaze slightly longer, looking more curious. What was she trying to see in him? She was smart enough to know immediately to dislike him, which was more than he could say of the other girls in AngelStone. Surely, therefore, she'd know that he was empty; souless. There was nothing to see here, nothing to figure out. He was a shell of a man; there was nothing left inside. She must have noticed that already. So why was he in her sights? Why did he attract those heavenly eyes towards himself, towards a place they did not belong?

Rider laughed at something he had said. Hero smiled at him, but her eyes slipped to look at Shephard once again. He stared back at her, his dark eyes that looked like endless abysses swallowing her inside them. She didn't look away this time. Her smile fell from her lips, leaving her looking solemn, yet confused. Maybe it was only because she didn't trust him. She didn't want to take her eyes off of him to make sure he wasn't going to pull some life threatening act upon her. He knew she still greatly distrusted him, though he had heard Rider proclaim his merits over and over. Yet it just didn't look like distrust that clouded those sky eyes. It looked like something he couldn't name, nor recall seeing before.

"Why don't we stop for a break?" Keller offered, noting the strangeness between the two.

Shephard readily agreed, breaking his contact with Hero to find a shady spot near a river where they could set their horses to feed.

A lunch, consisting of a variety of some bruised fruits and quickly steamed vegetables, was put together in a rush. There was still a long way to go before they'd be able to stop for the night.

Shephard watched Hero take the buckets down to the river and fetch some drinking water. Rider was quick to help carry them back, finishing the task for her. Shephard saw this as a loss, wishing that for once, Rider would just let Hero do the damn job herself. He was making her helpless when she clearly wasn't. If he kept it up, she'd stop all together and become like one of those girls at the Safehouse they were heading to. Priviledged little brats that never did anything but allow others to care for them. A great loss, indeed.

Hero met his gaze again. She never attempted to smile at him, never tried to force a false emotion. He respected that, liked it even. She was still genuine, even if that meant scorning him openly in front of his men.

"Hero?" Rider said, taking her hand. "How about we go sit over here in the shade? You look red."

Yes, she did look red. But Shephard wondered if it was really from the sun or caused by something else altogether. Either way, Hero obeyed Rider's wish. Turning from them, Shephard finished the lunch and handed it out, suddenly eager to be on the trail again.

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Despite Keller's morning warnings, again Shephard could not sleep and opted to pace around the camp in the darkness. Haunted by memories that only worsen in time, he found that he could no longer rest, despite feeling ragged and worn. He was used to spending a good deal of time on the road with the job of a Protector, but when without distraction, it could often be the bane of his existance. The road awoke the demons that lived in his dreams and followed close by him in his shadow and every step he took. There was no escape, only temporary diversions that kept him from taking his nightly trips down memory lane. Diversions that kept him grounded so he didn't have to revisit those times that will always stay with him, tormenting his thoughts and crumbling what was left of his heart until nothing was left.

He turned to the quickest distraction he could think of.

He noticed that she curled in a ball when she slept, holding her pillow to her chest as if she needed reassurance that someone was still with her when she closed her eyes. A fear of desertion was understandable. He wondered if she was plagued still by her own set of nightmares. He hoped that she dreamt of good memories, ones of her enchanting mother and her brave father, but by the frown that creased her lips, he gathered she most likely didn't.

He turned away, closing his eyes lifting his face skyward, realizing that the distraction he chose was not a wise one. To keep his thoughts off of her, from going down a treacherous road, he now needed an even stronger disport, the only one remaining was the original one he was running from. No, no matter what, he couldn't be chased back to that traitorous day.

He looked back at Hero to see her no longer sleeping, but sitting up, watching him, her eyes following his every movement with curiosity. He wanted to ask her if she was okay, if her nightmare had faded with waking consciousness, but he didn't dare speak to her. Conversation, unless necessary, was not an option he was willing to trust, not that he wanted to explore the reasoning behind this thought.

She blinked slowly, her eyelids still heavy with sleep lust. The corner of his lips twitched in an attempt of a smile. She blinked once more at him, then laid down again and closed her eyes.

Shephard knew he needed to find a new distraction.

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