Whenever she made this trek through the forest, her path varied. Elliot was resourceful when he wished and she did not want to risk leading the Knight to her injured friend. He made no promises to her. Her steps through the underbrush were soft, picking her way carefully. There was no rush - she had hours of daylight left. The heat was stifling despite the thick foliage - she could not wait to feel the relative chill of the cave where Niall healed. She thought back to the day when she had taken a dip in the lake, yearned for the chill against her skin. Already, sweat soaked the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades where the heavy pack of supplies rested.
She was careful never to wear her uniform on these visits. That seemed an uncommonly cruel reminder of what had been lost. Wearing expensive leather pants and a flattering top, the hunter gave a sharp little whistle to let Niall know of her approach. At the mouth of the cave, the wildling eased the heavy pack from her shoulders and took a moment to press hands to the small of her back to stretch it out. A deep breath puffed from between pursed lips and her head lifted to peer inside. "Niall? Are you hungry? I need to check your wounds today," she called.
