Silver Insanity

They move off. Once they think they're safely out of earshot, you hear the start of a conversation:
"Why are we just walking away from her? You can't tell me you actually believe that wasn't just her polymorphed or something!"

"Mmhm. And if it was, would she have just stood there calmly while Tamin cast dispel magic?"

There's a moment of stunned silence from the rest of Sir Arthur's party. Their conversation starts up again, but unless you want to follow discretely, they're simply too far away to hear what's being said.

I resist the urge to chuckle to myself about the dispel. I wait until they are well out of earshot, then look up to see if Lauren's still there. If she is, I wave at her to stay put until I come back, then take a quick, quiet look around to make sure they really are gone.

Lauren is either A) not there, or B) still invisible. It's hard to tell. Still, the monkey perched serenely on empty air would seem to indicate the latter.

A quick check of the surrounding area reveals that, if they're looping back for another look, they're taking their time about it. And the birdcalls and other normal forest noises have started up again; if they do come back, you should have plenty of warning.

When you get back, you can hear the faint sound of someone crying.

I'll keep an ear out for the birds, not that I ever stop doing that. "They seem to be gone." I am, of course, concerned that she's crying; though it's probably just exhaustion, I should help as much as I can. "Are you okay?"

"No, no, I'm not okay. I haven't had any real rest in a week, I've been chased over four hundred miles, and they're not going to give up just because you tricked them once, and now Tara and Emmet are dead, and it's all my fault! They told me it was too dangerous to try to stop the project, but I didn't think they'd get hurt for something I did! Without their knowledge, even. I..."

Lauren, at this point back at ground level and visible again, bursts into a fit of tears.

I awkwardly put an arm around her, tentatively to make sure she'll let me, and then I say, "There, there. If you want to cry or talk about it, I'm here. If you want to rest, go ahead; I'll keep watch."

Lauren cries for a bit longer, but eventually her thoughts turn to more immediate concerns.

"We should probably get moving. No point in making it any easier for those four to catch up than we have to. The carpet takes verbal commands, and it should have no problem carrying both of us."

She curls up, her head in your lap, and, adrenaline spent, is instantly asleep.

I look at the carpet nervously, take a tight hold on it with one hand and Kitty with the other, and say, "Just above the trees, please, carpet." As soon as it reaches appropriate height, I order it in the direction I was travelling in.

It whizzes off, soaring through the air like a kite, and I scream. "Slow down!" I scream this repeatedly until it is moving at a brisk walk. Then I cling to it very tightly and occasionally whimper, careful not to wake Lauren, however.

Hours pass uneventfully. And then some more hours. Kitty seems to be enjoying the ride.

Night is approaching, the forest still rolls slowly by beneath you, and Lauren still shows no sign of waking up. Even moving her head so you could restore circulation to your leg didn't disturb her at all.

I land in the next clearing I spot and check out its suitability as a campsite. Once I find a good spot, I cover Lauren with a blanket and take up watch. I can go *one* night without sleep; or, if she wakes up before the night is through, I'll take a nap.