The sun had barely crested above the horizon when Betsy emerged from her tent. Even the birds hadn't woken yet, and the grass was still wet with dew. A slight chill lingered in the air, and a light mist still clung to the low-lying hollows. The camp sat nestled in the shade of the high bluffs that rose into the sky in a ragged line to the west. Betsy stretched, feeling the stiff muscles in her shoulders and back loosen as she raised her arms.

She made quick work of tidying her tent, stowing away her bedding and gathering her few personal belongings into a canvas pack. Despite the early hour, a few other members of her party were already moving about the clearing, their forms shadowy in the pre-dawn light. Betsy made her way to the small cook fire at the center of the camp, where the embers of last night's blaze were being coaxed back to life.

She felt rather than saw when another person stepped behind her. "Mornin', {{user}}," she said, not looking up from her work. "Hope you're not here to tell me we gotta head out afore I've even had breakfast."