[ Staying on the move, it seems, was far easier said than done.
Although they were avoiding them, they were still using towns as landmarks to guide their way, and the next one from the little den was approximately three days' travel. Maya had done an admirable job of repairing the damage from Mondo's magic, but Peter's body was still exhausted and repairing itself and, in a perfect world, he would've had another day or two to rest. But the world isn't perfect, because sometimes you get chased by a band of bloodthirsty thieves and maniacal wizards, and sometimes you make blood pacts with Sirens, and sometimes you lose the ones you love or get imprisoned by a bunch of assholes -- so, Peter thinks, you just have to make do with the hand you're dealt.
On the bright side, Peter's fears of slowing them down weren't proven true, mostly because sheer stubbornness and willpower (and, in some ways, fear of a repeat of their encounter with someone like Brother Mordo) kept him upright far after it was wise for him to still be moving. If it hadn't been for Maya noticing his unsteady steps and forcing them to rest, and subsequently lecturing him for how idiotic and irresponsible and bull-headed (and a whole lot of other negative attributes that Peter didn't hear because she was using her magic to heal him by that point, and once she did that it made him seriously drowsy), Peter would've kept going until he collapsed from exhaustion.
At the very least, he slept dreamlessly that night.
It's midway through the second day that Maya had had enough and gave him an earful, and whatever it was he heard finally got through his thick skull. Guilt probably had a lot to do with it. Pride, too, perhaps. He probably had those dark thoughts about being a burden and a liability, and what would happen if they were attacked and he was too exhausted and couldn't put up a fight? He would look ridiculous. Bad enough he was out-classed in every possible way when it came to a magic-user battle; the least he could do was be an annoyance and a distraction if members of the Order appeared.
So Maya stops forcing their breaks, because Peter's the one finally asking. Perhaps they're not stopping as frequently as they should, but that he's asking to rest at all is surely an improvement.
He's feeling a lot better by the third day, but still not quite at his best just yet. Maybe another day or two and he'll be fine, he thinks -- or he hopes, anyway. But at the moment he's leaning against a tree, trying to catch his breath as Maya moves on ahead. They're not too far from town, maybe another hour or two, and he'd really like to just keep pressing forward to at least reach the outskirts, but his legs are starting to feel like jelly, but they're so close, and maybe he could just keep going--? ]
Maya, hold on. [ He sounds a little pissed and embarrassed. ] Sorry-- could we stop again?
~In the name of the Stars, I will punish you!~
Although they were avoiding them, they were still using towns as landmarks to guide their way, and the next one from the little den was approximately three days' travel. Maya had done an admirable job of repairing the damage from Mondo's magic, but Peter's body was still exhausted and repairing itself and, in a perfect world, he would've had another day or two to rest. But the world isn't perfect, because sometimes you get chased by a band of bloodthirsty thieves and maniacal wizards, and sometimes you make blood pacts with Sirens, and sometimes you lose the ones you love or get imprisoned by a bunch of assholes -- so, Peter thinks, you just have to make do with the hand you're dealt.
On the bright side, Peter's fears of slowing them down weren't proven true, mostly because sheer stubbornness and willpower (and, in some ways, fear of a repeat of their encounter with someone like Brother Mordo) kept him upright far after it was wise for him to still be moving. If it hadn't been for Maya noticing his unsteady steps and forcing them to rest, and subsequently lecturing him for how idiotic and irresponsible and bull-headed (and a whole lot of other negative attributes that Peter didn't hear because she was using her magic to heal him by that point, and once she did that it made him seriously drowsy), Peter would've kept going until he collapsed from exhaustion.
At the very least, he slept dreamlessly that night.
It's midway through the second day that Maya had had enough and gave him an earful, and whatever it was he heard finally got through his thick skull. Guilt probably had a lot to do with it. Pride, too, perhaps. He probably had those dark thoughts about being a burden and a liability, and what would happen if they were attacked and he was too exhausted and couldn't put up a fight? He would look ridiculous. Bad enough he was out-classed in every possible way when it came to a magic-user battle; the least he could do was be an annoyance and a distraction if members of the Order appeared.
So Maya stops forcing their breaks, because Peter's the one finally asking. Perhaps they're not stopping as frequently as they should, but that he's asking to rest at all is surely an improvement.
He's feeling a lot better by the third day, but still not quite at his best just yet. Maybe another day or two and he'll be fine, he thinks -- or he hopes, anyway. But at the moment he's leaning against a tree, trying to catch his breath as Maya moves on ahead. They're not too far from town, maybe another hour or two, and he'd really like to just keep pressing forward to at least reach the outskirts, but his legs are starting to feel like jelly, but they're so close, and maybe he could just keep going--? ]
Maya, hold on. [ He sounds a little pissed and embarrassed. ] Sorry-- could we stop again?