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"Call me commoner all you like. I've got closer bloodties to Drathel than most. I've done my share of killing. I'll get by. And so will Karma. His blood's the key. And I'm ready to leave as soon as everyone else is."
He gestured to the cart of goods behind him.
"We've got enough room for one to sleep in at a time. Two can fit if they're sitting. It'd best be the girls, to start the journey riding. We can pull the cart easy enough."
He spat on the ground.
"That's what I think of heroes."

" I am very interested in this journey you are planning. If you don't mind having one more person in your group, I might even be of help. I might be of some financial support..." he said casually patting his pocket, then looked at the cart for a second "... and I even offer myself to pull the cart."

Anyara waited as they argued, and argued, and argued, wearing her granite patience to a film of dust. Finally, her face twitched and she couldn’t stop herself from standing, head lifted just a bit to imply a greater height than her elevated steps permitted, and snapping, “Enough! If you do not cease and desist this utter nonsense, I will do something that will make you regret it until we part ways, however soon that may be if you persist in these useless debates!” Green-brown eyes glittered dangerously in the pale moon and starlight. They were wasting time.
“Now, Drathel is no ‘great god.’ He is a lesser deity, and may be slain, if Legend is to be believed, and in things spiritual, I have never known the Priests of the Temple to be wrong. Through them I have learned that all gods have a favored mortal, one whom they prefer above all others. To the Great Gods, the primal three, the death or murder of this chosen is nothing. Their affections may shift like the wind. Drathel, however, is in his core a human. His chosen’s death should be enough to force him to materialize, and that would be enough to drag him back into the mortal coils he abandoned.
"And all men may die."
“Whether there are heroes or no, is not of our concern; our success or failure is. Common or not is not our concern, such trivial matters should be beneath us, if we are taking on merchant guise. We have set plans in motion, how they were discovered, by anyone, I do not know, nor do I much care.”
She looked down her nose at them, arms crossed.
“Now if all of that is quite sorted out, why did none of you bright young geniuses think to bring a horse or mule?” There was a hint of a taunt in her voice. “But nevermind that, as you did not, and since it is such a fuss, be glad that I took the liberty of getting a horse this afternoon. She should be quite able to handle a cart, and,” She smiled mockingly, “The Temple was also kind enough to provide mounts for the rest of you, if you’re so inclined to ride. Now! Does that settle everything?”
One more word of argument over Drathel, ego, or the ladies being to lily-like to work—not that she was going to disabuse them of the thought—and she would do something worse than snap at them. Anyara could put up with many things, but this was wasting time and moonlight on what was, apparently, stupidity.

"We'll let one of the horses pull. You can ride."
"Let's go! Drathel's not playing tiddly winks!"

"Well, I see that everyone is going to ride, so we will tie a couple wagon ropes to the horses, unless you want one horse to pull and the others ride. As for me, I think ill ride too." Gene kneeled down and put his ear to mother nature. He whispered into the ground, "Mother, call upon thorn to help me on my journey," and a gust of wind made a whistleing sound.

A sound of hoofs were closing in, connecting with the earth. A light brown horse, with a white mane, stopped next to Gene. He climbed on and held his mane. "I wasn't going to call this horse, but as we need as many as we can get, why not?" Thorn carried gene next to the wagon, and Gene took or wagon ropes and tied it to the saddle.

"Thank you for letting me use one of your horses." Ranpu said to Anyara "They are very fine creatures, indeed" one dark colored horse had come close to him. He put his hand over the horse's head and turned his head back to Anyara "Does this one have a name?" he asked, and then turned back to look at the horse, waiting for an answer.

"Thank the Temple; the High Priest lent them to me." The pale gelding snorted. "He's called Charger, as he was once a Knight's Charger. The black one is Nightmare, and the chesnut mare is Flameheart. The blueish one is Stormcloud." She smiled. "They insisted I take extras." She tied them into a string, removing the tack and tucking it into a free spot. She fixed it to the wagon and shook out her clothes.
Anyara, unlike Mizu, looked the part of a merchant hand. She was dressed to work, and looked rather timid now that she was trying.