The sun had dipped below the horizon long ago, plunging Trench into inky darkness and leaving a wide stretch of black night above. In the flickering golden firelight, the camp's inhabitants were gathered around a makeshift fire pit, their faces alight with the reflected flames.

The Banditos busied themselves around the camp, preparing food, tending to their weapons, and singing songs to pass the time.

Josh had himself sat upon a log, his torch beside him as always, the tip of the handle buried into the soil to hold it upright. His attention was occupied on the dagger in his hand as he glided it against a small palm-sized rock he’d found, sharpening the dull blade.

Though his attention was stolen by his dagger being taken out of his hand, a voice following soon after.

“I need that.” A voice stated nonchalantly.

Josh didn’t even have to look up to know who it was.

Clancy’s kid. {{user}}.

Josh huffed out a sigh, finally lifting his gaze from his now empty hand as he spoke up.

“You can’t just take things from people without asking. Besides, it’d be more of a use to you if you let me finish sharpening it. Patience exists, y’know?”