The camp was quiet at midnight. Poppy shivered in the thin air and wrapped herself in a shawl. The faint crackle of a bonfire filled the air, but cold hissed through. Poppy had a satchel on her back, which contained:

• A gourd of water, firmly stopped with a large cork
• Two loaves of penny bread, a lump of cheese, and some fruit from Tigarlintez merchants.
• A plum velvet pouch of gold coins pillaged from her father's treasure hold (it wasn't really stealing, since she earned all of the gold)
• A burgundy shawl from the far land of Incatre, made of alpaca wool
• A few extra skirts, blouses, and blankets

Poppy slung the satchel over her shoulder and laced up her scuffed boots. If her father heard her or saw her bootprints, it was all over. She tiptoed from the tent, slipped around the bonfire, and walked out onto the well-tramped horse path. She felt a rush of exhilaration. She was running away! Not that she was running. If she ran, she'd be caught within the hour. She instead walked slowly and deliberately until the camp was out of sight. Then she broke into a run. She was free!
   Racing away from your metaphorical prison wasn't a good idea. For one thing, Poppy's bootprints contained an etching of the Seer's Mark, and it especially stood out when she ran. For another, running is never a good idea, despite the misnomer "running away". It shows desperation and fear. So when the bandits found her tracks, she didn't stand a chance.