[Durelin]

Snyd's body had just recovered from his battle of survival with his lone orc opponent, and he was even able to snicker as Vlad caused the old farmer to grow deathly pale. But his mind slowly fell back into a strange grogginess, as his eyes did not believe what they were seeing. The retreating backs of Melost, Khalad, and Fid. For years they had struggled together, knowing that the only goal was to survive. And knowing that in this world, the odds were against them. Fid and Snyd had always stolen together, escaped together...they had had so much fun together, free from their former restricting lives. As exasperating as the man was, Fid was the only one of Vlad's outlaws he had ever felt comfortable with. Perhaps he had even felt a certain connection with Fid. Snyd now watched his friend running into the darkness, away from the lights coming from the houses that surrounded Snyd.

"You are going to do nothing?" came Jaheira's voice. She sounded as sick as Snyd felt. Do nothing...

"Fid..." His voiced creaked out of him in a whisper. Finding his voice, he shouted, "Fid?"

His friend did not turn round or hesitate. Whether Fid had heard him or not, Snyd could not guess. "And I don't care. I don't," he muttered, trying in vain to convince himself. "We'll see where this ends you up!" he shouted frantically, and shook his fist at Fid's back. "I hope to see you all dying in a ditch somewhere!"

He gave up, and gave in to his exhaustion, fueled by a sick despair. "We're going to do nothing." Jaheira looked at him, and he caught her disgusted expression out of the corner of his eye. Not sparing her a glance he answered her look. "We shouldn't care."

Snyd turned to Vlad, who was looking as calmly severe as he always did, and he returned Snyd's gaze with a raised eyebrow. But what shown in his eyes did not coincide with this look of annoyance. "Why do we care?" Snyd said with all the strength he had, putting as much anger into his words as he could.

"Because there are now only three of us," Vlad answered in a dead voice. For some reason, the flatness of his words annoyed Snyd tremendously. He was at his wits end with confusion, anger...and hunger! He slowly counted those who still stood around him. Yes. Three. Only three; he had always hated when Vlad was right. Only Fid had hated it worse than he.

"Well, I'm finding something to eat," he said slowly, and threw up his arms in an elaborate, absent minded shrug. He turned on his heels, almost stumbling to the ground as he did so, and made his way to the nearest house. The foolish residents still stood outside, staring in even more confusion than Snyd, and with a fear that was not yet felt clearly by the outlaw. Only when he had a full stomach would he notice the fear within him; and that would be just another thing he did not understand.