"You know what would break up this monotony?" She asked, twirling around to face the group trailing behind her. The man following her close stopped in his tracks, familiar and worried lines already working into his forehead.
"Wearing cuts of meat?" He replied.
"That would, but we're all out!" She threw her hands up in mock-helplessness, still walking backwards. His face was unmoving.
"Well, what abut singing some for us?"
"Me?" He asked. His eyes widened a little. "No, I don't sing. My voice is flat. I can't harmonize. And most importantly, I would enjoy limiting the amount of reasons to laugh at me."
"You're being morose," she said, scowling.
"It's not good business for avoiding the fauna, either," He began to walk towards her again.
"Downright sullen!" She turned her back to him and rested her hands on her belt. "We can take anything thrown at us. And we might even find something to sell on them!"
"Here we are, putting our lives on the line, and you are dreaming of riches. I suppose you would step over our dead bodies to get to them," he replied. It was probably a joke.
She made some sound of disgust and remained silent. A few feet behind her, he cleared his throat, awkwardly.
Another hour of silence. Leaves rustling in the wind, the thud of boots on grass and dirt, and the almost imperceptible sound of breathing. Humming started; not from the birds or the cicadas, but from the man trailing the braided one. From somewhere behind him, Khalid added a deeper, if unsteady, tone. At his side, Jaheira moved her head to the music. Even Imoen recognized the song, tapping the melody on the little scabbard at her side.
And then his voice raised, and words started forming, the humming helping to accent his voice. Still sad, still soft, with every note echoing in the wilderness around them. The woman ahead of him recognized the whisper of her name in the words - Felicity, the lucky one.
So a song and dance number it was, as she grabbed the long braid trailing from her head and dancing with it, treating it as a partner and a scarf and a veil, an accent to the hips that shook. Effects on her jangled against her leg, especially as she sidled up to the dark-haired man. Jokingly she drew the hair to his face and painted a smile across his lips - for a second, the words were sputtered as he tried to spit the hair out.
She took him to dance with her, joining Khalid in his humming, letting the braid fall back to her knees. The next time her name came up, she added his - Xan, Xan, the lucky one. He raised an eyebrow to her, as if to ask, "the lucky one?" She laughed, and he smiled, and the tiny dance troupe continued on their way.