They do!

And it's not a bad dinner at that!

Despite the ramshackle condition of its wagons and tents, this caravan clearly has a bit of coin to throw around--they left town with a wide assortment of fine food and drink.

(She spots a couple of people among the dining throng who she recognizes as prior townsfolk; she must not have been the only person who thought to use this caravan as a way out of whatever-it-was-that-had-everyone-on-edge)

Really. It's practically a feast. It shouldn't be hard at all for someone with her skills to slip off with an armload of delectable comestibles.

She does precisely that. The trick is to act like you belong just exactly where you are. Well, and not to look too homeless, but that's less of a concern with this crowd.

Indeed!

Most of the people here overlook her, and those who look at her at all do so in that instantly sympathetic Oh Look A Child kind of way.

She doesn't even have to snag the food herself. This friendly woman with big curly hair puts a platter together for her (it is a Be Sure To Eat Your Vegetables sort of platter, but still).

She makes sure to reward her with a smile - being friendly with the people in charge of the food is always a wise move - and then takes her platter to a secluded spot between some wagons to eat; no sense risking questions that she can't in any sense answer.

She isn't bothered!

From her vantage point among the wagons, she sees the towering outline of the caravan's orcish protector strolling out into the darkness beyond the camfires' glow. He has a smaller person on his arm: a dwarf, if she doesn't miss her mark...

...the dwarf has a happy spring to her step.

This seems like such a nice caravan.

The scary thing's still out there, obviously, but the people are nice and the food is good and the orc fills his followers with confidence.

It is nice. She was only planning to stay with the caravan until the next town, but if this keeps up, maybe she'll keep going.

Days pass like this.

The details change--they pass through wilder terrain, the feasts give way to more slapshod dining, and the orc goes on nighttime patrol with different cohorts--but the general pattern holds.

Everyone continues to assume that she belongs there, and she isn't asked any tricky questions.

Being asked questions at all might be a little tricky; sometimes people react badly, when they realize she doesn't talk. But she has a pretty good strategy - smile, act shy, withdraw - and hopefully it'll serve her well enough here.

Not many people stay up too long past sundown, most nights. Which gives her plenty of time to roam around among the tents without attracting attention, provided she keeps quiet.

She keeps seeing the curly haired woman out and about, though. The woman seems to have a similar sleep schedule to hers: maybe because she (Emi? The other nomads have called the curly haired woman that a couple times) is one of the orc's most common partners for midnight patrols.

On some of her free nights, the woman just sits by the fire looking solemn.

But on other nights, Emi goes out to the edge of the campground with handfuls of food scraps and teaches tricks to the woodland creatures!

She hangs around to watch, just as often as she notices her doing it. She likes animals; they make a lot of sense, somehow.

One night, she sees Emi do something new.

The woman spreads her hands, as her well-kept cadre of animal companions dance around her, and a quartet of golden lights spring forth from her fingertips and loop about artfully amidst the prancing throng.

Huh. She didn't think Emi was a wizard, but maybe she's wrong about that.

It'd be good to know why she's keeping it a secret, if she is. But startling her seems like a really bad way to do that.

"Is someone there?"

Emi catches a glimpse of her, outlined when one of the glowing orbs shifts position.

At first the woman looks frightened but, as soon as Emi notes her quiet admirerer's diminutive stature, that fright evaporates.

"Oh. Hi."

Pretending you're supposed to be where you are works for lots of things. She steps into the light, ducking her head a little in acknowledgement.

"I hope you like it."

Emi returns the nod, and the golden motes of light drift past her to spin idly in the air between them.

"...it's the only spell I can manage, and just once a day at that so I have to make it count."

...aw, Emi's sad. She offers a hug, and... sometimes she can talk, a little, if she tries just the right way. It takes a little while, though.

Emi is a little surprised by this approach. The woman hadn't meant to let on that she was in need of comfort.

But her shocked smile when initially hugged quickly gives way to a genuinely appreciative one.

The animals have begun to shy away a bit. Things have gone off script, and there's someone new, and they're nervous and they're retreating towards the treeline.

Emi glances back and makes comforting noises at them.

Then the woman glances back at the girl and says: "...can I tell you a secret?"

(Hugs are nice. She likes hugs.)

Secrets are much more interesting than trying to talk. She abandons the attempt, and nods.

"...I'm actually a princess."

She whispers in the conspiratorial fashion that adults reserve for telling Secrets To Children.

"These celestial lights are the sigil of my house, passed down my mother's line for a hundred generations. I grew up in a kingdom far north of here, where it snows half-year round and the mountains are too big to even teleport through."

She's embellishing a bit, but the gist of what she's saying is accurate.

"...these days, though, these critters are my only subjects."

She winks. At her feet, mice and squirrels chase her golden orbs round in dizzying circles.

That's pretty neat. She grins and nods.

"Do your parents know you're up this late?"