A Poor Thirsty Traveller

"Right. You grab the little girl. Keep 'er quiet understand? I'll grab the woman, and Gil can grab the chicken."

"What do we do boss?"

"Look threatening."

"That it boss?" Said Talbot.

Boris rubbed the bridge of his nose as hard as it would allow. "Yes, just stand there alright? I'm assuming you can do that?"

He stood, and walked from the edge of the wood straight towards Minerva.

"Evening! Any chance of a flagon for a poor, thirsty, traveller?" He smiled as pleasantly as he could. As she turned away from the fire, a panicked squeak came from Rhian.