Day Eight - Afternoon

     Captain Casper traverses the dense forest wilderness, wary of wild beasts and savages hiding in the undergrowth. He’ll need all his wits about him if he wishes to survive the voyage, but now is not the time for a return voyage. The day is young, his belly full, and his hopes high. He has greater ambitions in mind, ambitions like conquering tribes and claiming their treasures as their own. He’ll need to find said tribes first before he does any conquering though… Perhaps he’d have better luck looking for buried treasure. Who’s to say he can’t do both?

     The trees thin out ahead. He’s reached the forest’s edge. Beyond it is a bare wasteland, all brown, tilled earth with coarse, green stubble. Dwellings built from earth bricks and wood intersperse the fields few and far in between without a scrap of cover to be seen. The natives will see him coming from the first step he takes out of the tree line. He can’t see anyone out there, but they’re there. They’re waiting. They’re watching. Better keep to the trees until he has a reason to leave.

Day Eight - Morning and Midday

     Casper slept lightly last night, always with an ear open for more disturbances, always prepared to retreat back to the glasshouse, should the need arise. He was sadly disappointed. It was quiet all through the dark hours and even early the next morning, making the tiring vigil entirely unnecessary. During that entire time, Myr did not return to the house. His conspicuous absence through the night made Casper uneasy. His continued absence this morning fills him with growing dread. The fact of the matter is, so long as Myr’s whereabouts remain unknown, Casper has no means of avoiding him. Myr could be anywhere and Casper’s just as liable to get jumped by him as not no matter where he goes.

     Today isn’t going to be a good day. Casper can feel it. He’ll have to grit his teeth and bear it, come what may. He’s a sitting duck in his nest beneath the tables. The best course of action right now is to keep moving. As for the best way to start off what is doomed to be a most dreadful day, why not start with breakfast? Naturally, that means he’s off to the glasshouse as soon as he’s dressed and ready for the day. No leaving behind his shoes this time; he’ll be needing them if he’s going to be running amok.

Day Seven - Afternoon and Evening

     Casper has to stop moping at some point. The dirt on his clothes and skin give him incentives to act by making him itch. Serves him right for sleeping on the ground. He tuts, shakes a billowing dirt cloud out of his blanket, and adds laundry and a bath to his list of things to do. He’ll pop inside the house to grab fresh set of whatever looks like it fits to change into after he’s cleaned up. Walking around, sopping wet all day wasn't fun. The prospect of stumbling headlong into Myr isn’t appealing either, but he should be fine so long as he’s quiet. He can do quiet. It won’t be any different than any other house job he’s done. He’ll get in, he’ll grab stuff, he’ll get out. Easy.

     He psyches himself up the whole way to the back door and still he hesitates on the threshold. Does he need that change of clothes that bad? What if Myr’s stirring inside? He’s up at this time of day, isn’t he? Casper swallows around the tight lump in his throat. Deep breaths. He can do this.