Penelo darted a sidelong glance at Balthier, who strode along beside her on the way back to camp. His gaze was fixed straight ahead, but his mouth was set in a firm line, too serious to be concentrating on something so simple as the quick trip back. He seemed almost...annoyed. Maybe even offended. And that pricked her temper, as she certainly hadn't been the one spying on him in the bath. And really, she'd been remarkably calm and polite, considering his rude intrusion and merciless teasing thereafter. But then, he wasn't particularly threatening - he was just a shameless flirt, mostly harmless. Probably he simply couldn't resist the chance to poke fun at her. Which, really, was sort of a cruel thing to do.
"I don't need a babysitter," she groused. "I was perfectly safe. The water wasn't deep; it's not like I was in any danger of drowning."
His head jerked toward her, expression incredulous. "You had been unconscious for three days, and delirious much of the time. And then you have the unmitigated gall to go rushing off into the night for a bath?" A muscle ticked in his jaw, eyes narrowed, staring her down with a piercing gaze. "I swear I've never met anyone so prone to mishaps as you, so if it takes constant supervision to keep you from getting your fool self killed, then so be it."
She stopped abruptly, eyebrows inching toward her hairline in disbelief. "Were you...were you actually worried about me?"
"We were all worried!" he shouted, and she flinched at the sudden anger in his tone. Abashed, she scuffed her toes in the grass, feeling uncomfortably like a chastened child.
"We've all taken our turns playing nursemaid, doing our damnedest to keep you alive against incredible odds, and you keep rushing right back into potential danger with not a single care for your own wellbeing or our considerable efforts to safeguard it!" He made a disgusted sound in his throat, raking his hands through his hair in frustration. "Have you even a single ounce of good sense in that pretty little head of yours?"
She winced. "Balthier, I didn't think...I...I'm sorry."
"Are you, then?" he scoffed. "Then don't let it happen again. Your recklessness jeopardizes all of us. Gods, a child has a better sense of self-preservation!"
Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. "I said I was sorry!" she snapped. "You don't have to keep yelling at me!" His censure shamed her, ignited her anger. "I should be the one yelling at you!"
He had the temerity to look affronted. "What have I done to you, then?"
"You spied on me, you lecherous -" She broke off on a gasp as he moved swiftly toward her, bringing himself uncomfortably close. She backed away, and he followed until her back hit the trunk of the tree, trapping her.
"Why all this indignation now, then?" His voice had gone muted, husky. "Why not rail at me then?"
She swallowed heavily, pressing herself back against the tree trunk. Her fingers plucked nervously at the bark. "You didn't...you didn't really mean anything by it..." she stammered.
His lips quirked into a sly smile. And though his eyes flickered with amusement, a banked fire glowed behind them, unsettling her. Slowly, deliberately, he plucked a lock of wet hair from her shoulder, twining it around his finger. He bent close, until she closed her eyes and turned her face away, shying from his intensity. But the heat emanating from his body burned her nonetheless. His breath stirred the hair at her ear and she shivered, and knew he had noticed the helpless reaction by his sharp intake of breath.
"Didn't I?" he murmured at her ear. "Hmmm."
He released her hair, and she knew he had stepped away by the cool air that rushed in to replace his heat. When she opened her eyes, he was a few feet away, his cool gaze observing her with complete disinterest.
"Come. It's late." His voice had a commanding snap, and Penelo pried herself off the tree trunk, trailing along behind him like a puppy after its master, nursing her bruised pride. Maybe he wasn't quite as harmless as she'd lead herself to believe.
"Have you and Balthier quarreled?" Ashe asked, handing Penelo a bowl of some sort of gruel.
Penelo shrugged. "He had a thing or two to say, I guess." She stirred the slop in the bowl, grimacing as it stuck to the spoon, pulling in long, stringy threads of goo. Unappetizing, to say the very least.
"Well, he said it loudly enough to rouse the lot of us," Ashe responded, taking a seat. "Do eat. I know it isn't terribly appealing, but going from broth and tea directly to rich foods would probably be too much for your stomach to accomodate."
Penelo heaved a sigh, took a hesitant bite. The consistency was terrible, but at least the flavor was palatable. "He didn't have to shout at me," she muttered.
"If he hadn't, one of us would have," Ashe returned lightly. She set a hand on Penelo's shoulder. "You really ought not to have gone off alone."
"I know that, now," Penelo murmured. "No one's worried about me in such a long time. It really just didn't occur to me that anyone would, now." She hesitated. "I'm grateful for all you've done for me. I'm sorry it seemed like I didn't appreciate it." She looked down into her bowl, blinking furiously to hold off the tears that threatened.
Ashe nudged the younger girl with her shoulder. "You've done much for us as well," she said. "More than should ever have been expected of you. But you're not on your own anymore. Just remember that, won't you?"
Penelo nodded, then ducked her head and averted her eyes as Balthier appeared and tossed some wood in the fire, poking the embers with a stick to stoke it. He shot a thin-lipped, narrow-eyed look at Penelo, and Ashe tsked.
"Honestly," she huffed. "A grown man, sulking."
That earned her a glare all her own, and he dropped the stick with a muffled curse, stalking off furiously into the darkness.
"He's allowed to go off on his own, I see," Penelo said petulantly. She tipped her head back, sighed heavily.
"Yes, well, he's not recovering from a rather serious illness. And he's only gone to join Basch and Fran at the hunter's camp." Ashe took Penelo's empty bowl, replacing it with a cup of the bitter tea. Penelo pulled a face, but drank it anyway.
"We've decided to stay here a few more days. It will give you time to rest and recover. In the meantime, this area seems to be plagued with beasts that the residents will pay handsomely to be rid of. Accepting some jobs will give us an opportunity to gain a bit more capital, which we'll no doubt have need of eventually," Ashe said, casting a regretful look at Penelo. "I'm afraid that you must remain here. Until you are fully recovered, you'll be more of a liability than an asset on the battlefield."
"It's okay; I understand." Penelo managed a weak smile. "I can make myself useful here. Cook or something, maybe. Wash clothes. We've all gone too long in without clean clothing as it is."
"You can make yourself useful by resting," Ashe admonished lightly. "Don't strain yourself."
"Really, there's only so long I can sit idle; I have to make myself useful somehow. I promise I won't overdo it," Penelo said. She smothered a yawn, finding her energy suddenly depleted to the point of exhaustion. Perhaps a few restful days would do her some good after all.
"I shall hold you to that, then." Ashe rose, gently prying Penelo's empty cup from her hands. "Now, go to sleep. And if I find you've jeopardized your recovery further, I shall give you a lecture that will make Balthier's seem like a cozy chat."
The day was well advanced by the time Penelo awoke. A cool breeze blew in from the sea, tempering the heat of the summer sun. The wind carried with it a crisp, salty scent that Penelo found rather refreshing. The rest of her party had likely been gone for several hours already, and would likely not return for several more, but Penelo had never been much good at sitting idle. Years of being more or less on her own had cured her of any propensity towards laziness she might once have had.
She scavenged clothing from bags, clothing that had long since surpassed merely 'dirty' and had been worn straight on through 'filthy.' They had had little enough time along their journey to stop and wash themselves, much less to look after their clothing, but hopefully it wouldn't prove to be too insurmountable a task for one afternoon.
The clothing wrapped into a neat bundle, she made the quick trip through the copse of trees to the hot spring, laying the items out. The heated spring water proved effective in soaking out sweat and dirt, though some of their garmets would always wear the proof of their hardships in the form of grass stains. But at least the washing managed to remove the offensive smells, and though the whites would no longer be quite so pristine, at least they could, at last, be called clean once again.
She laid the freshly-laundered clothing out on the smooth, flat rocks near the bank, hoping the sunlight would hold until the clothing was fully dried, then took the opportunity to change the bandage on her leg. To he relief, the wound was healing well enough. The flesh had scabbed over, and though it was tender to the touch, it was no longer inflamed. The skin was knitting; the infection well and truly vanquished.
She spread salve over the scab, carefully rewrapping the wound. At least Balthier wouldn't be able to accuse her of negligence in this respect. Why was he so willing to think the worst of her? She sighed. It didn't matter. They'd part ways soon enough - either as champions of Dalmasca's freedom, or in death.
Night had fallen when the party finally returned, guided back to camp by the glowing firelight, the succulent scent of roasting cockatrice wafting out to meet them as they approached. Penelo sat near the campfire, bent low over a swath of fabric in her lap, sewing. She lifted the fabric, tearing through a thread with her teeth to finish off a seam. Her hands worked diligently to fold the garment with a clothier's precision.
"How utterly domestic."
Her head jerked around at the scathing tones, lips pursing into a moue of distaste as her gaze fell on Balthier. Ashe threw him a caustic look.
"Dinner's ready," Penelo said, choosing not to dignify Balthier's sarcasm with a response. "Did you bring down any marks?"
"We did indeed," Fran replied. "Two of them, in fact. The rewards from these ought to replenish our coffers and supply us with improved armor."
"You have been busy as well, I see," Ashe said. "You haven't overexerted yourself, I hope?"
Penelo shook her head. "I picked up a few things from the hunter's camp, but I didn't go any further than the hot spring. Really, I just did some laundry and cooking; nothing particularly strenuous." She busied herself with sorting the clothing into piles as the others cut slices of steaming meat off the spit and settled down to eat.
"I think I should be ready to travel by tomorrow," Penelo said. "The day after at the very latest. We've delayed too long already."
Vaan spoke around a mouthful of meat. "You're only just now recovering. We can wait."
"I have bandages and salve. The wound is still a bit sore, but if we wait until it's fully healed, we'll be here for weeks. There's no danger of reopening the wound, and as long as I keep it covered and protected, it'll continue to heal." Penelo gathered up the spool of thread, tucking in the loose end, and shoving the needle through to keep it in place.
"Yes, well, we've all seen how well you take care of yourself," Balthier snapped. "So do forgive us for being reluctant to continue on merely on your word that you'll do so."
"Balthier." Fran's voice was a sharp as Penelo had ever heard it, but she paid it no heed. Blood rushed in her ears; anger brought heat to her cheeks. Her hands clenched into fists around handfuls of snowy white linen. She threw the garment, flooded with satisfaction as it smacked Balthier clear in the face. Anger spent, she drew a deep breath.
"I mended your shirt," she said, voice low and even. "But now I'm beginning to wonder why I bothered." She turned without another word, retreating to the tent.
Balthier set the shirt aside, returning to his meal with an air of indifference. Silence reigned over the campsite for a few seconds, until Basch cleared his throat.
"That was poorly done of you, if you ask me," he said.
"Then it is rather a good thing that I did not ask," Balthier returned acidly.
"Don't be asinine," Ashe shot back. "Why must you antagonize that poor girl? She's done nothing to you. She tries ever only to be helpful, and yet you continue to throw her kindness back in her face."
"She ought not be here at all," Balthier retorted. "This is war. Someone so young has no place here. She's already come close to losing her life."
Vaan stared at Balthier, mystified. "She's two months older than me," he offered. "I didn't hear you complaining when we were bagging those marks today."
"She's fragile. She's more than proved that, I think. She'd be safer back in the city."
Vaan choked on a laugh. "Where, in Rabanastre? Archades?" He hooted with genuine mirth. "It's not like we grew up in the lap of luxury, you know. We eat better out here than we did in Rabanastre half the time. No offense," he said, noting Ashe's pained expression. "It's just that the war cost us our families. We take the odd job to bring in some money, but we sleep in Lowtown, in the alleyways, with the rest of the street children. We've got no control over our fate in Rabanastre. We survive on charity."
Fran studied Balthier intently. "You, too, once wished to challenge fate, Balthier. Have you forgotten already the lessons you have learned?"
Balthier subsided into silence, subdued and brooding. The fire crackled, the sound dominating the stillness of the night.
Penelo rose early to change out her bandage by the hot spring and refill the canteens. The restfulness of the previous day had certainly revitalized her, and she hoped that the rest of the party would be amenable to continuing their journey. Already she itched to travel; she'd been stuck in one place for far too long.
When she returned to the camp some time later, she found the lone straggler, Balthier, and stopped short.
"They've gone to replenish supplies," he said. "We'll be moving on when they return, so I would suggest you pack up your things." His tone conveyed a measure of disapproval, but at least no overt hostility.
Discomfited, she began to gather her own things, shoving them into her knapsack. A heavy sigh from behind her had her glancing over her shoulder. Balthier stood, fingers pressed to his forehead, rubbing away lines of concern. She watched as he dug in his bag, withdrawing a folded sheet of paper and presenting it to her.
She didn't move. "What is it?"
"A peace offering," he said, voice deliberately bland, "take it."
Warily she reached out and snagged it, carefully unfolding it. Lines and dots were scrawled across the page in unrecognizable patterns. She stared at it, uncomprehending.
"A star chart," he said by way of explanation. "They can be used for navigation. Every explorer ought to have one."
"Thank you," she managed. Her throat burned, eyes watered. She'd had gifts before, though not in a long while. But this one...this one was special. She was used to being looked at but not seen; heard but not understood. But Balthier had done both. And somehow his consideration hurt worse than the lash of his anger. His indifference would be easier to bear than his affection, given the fact that would inevitably part ways.
He cleared his throat. "I'd suggest you pack it away. We leave forthwith for Balfonheim."