Penryn looked at him in question, and he found his voice suddenly very far away. “I must check the area,” he announced, and her brow furrowed, but she nodded all the same.
He would not go far, only wanted to familiarise himself with their surroundings and ensure no stragglers from the procession had dared wander after them.
And, if it also helped him to centre his thoughts, that was all the better.
Although Penryn was not within his direct eye line, he was certain he could hear her and return should anything go amiss.
The wood was a quiet ominous thing as the light faded and an inky blackness began to overtake it. Animals would start to emerge from their dens, their eyes accustomed to such a true sense of dark, hunting and foraging for their supper. There were no caves that he could see where larger creatures might have made their home, and there were no signs of burrows. They might be discovered by a hunt, animals curious about the sleeping figures buried beneath the bedrolls, but the fire should keep them at a wary distance.
The camp had been chosen well, he assured himself, and he had seen Penryn through the first day.
There would be many more to come, and he would grow used to what it meant to be a Guardian. When to engage, when to withdraw, what to promise and when to hold closely to the old ways.
He rubbed a hand through his hair, tugging lightly, still conflicted but the tether between them insisting he return.
She was not where he had left her, and alarm lanced through him before he caught sight of her back at the stream. She splashed water on her face before taking a beralt root and biting off a small chunk to tend her teeth.
Was he gone so long that she had found time to look through their supplies as well?
He had used the time to relieve himself, and perhaps she had done similarly, the thought a relief of its own, though concerning as well. She had not wandered far, had she?
But she was here, and clearly safe, and he was not going to scold.
She held out a root at his approach, and there was something welcome in the gesture. To know that there was something at least that was similar in their upbringings, that a bit of root harvested from specially prepared gardens was known both to the sages who had been charged with her upbringing and the common folk that had seen to his.
The beralt did as it was meant to do. The longer he chewed the more it released its juices, the root itself abrading against any foreign particles. Hygiene was important to her, then, and he would do well to remember it.
She spat out her root and swished away the remnants of its work with a palmful of water from the stream.
“I take it we are not under siege?” she asked, a hint of accusation mixing with amusement.
He allowed the beralt to work for another moment before crouching down to swish out his own mouth before answering. “We are safe for the moment,” he replied, choosing to ignore whatever was hidden away in her tone.
“You are a very abrupt sort of person,” Penryn observed as they walked back toward the camp.
He had never been accused of that before. He glanced at her as she sat down on her bedroll once more. The pouch containing the supplies for her hair was gone, presumably tucked away in the pack yet again. They would need a system between them, a mutual understanding of what went where lest their belongings fall into chaos.
Perhaps that was a conversation for the morrow, he thought, adding another log to the fire.
“I am not certain if you mean that as a criticism,” he said at last when Penryn did not seem intent on offering clarification.
She gave a little shrug, although she avoided his eye. “Just a statement. We will be conversing and then you disappear. Whether it is to wash a dish or to check on something. It is going to be difficult for me to keep close to you if I do not understand where we are going.” Another shrug, this time with something sad about the edges of her features. “Or if I am supposed to follow at all.”
That was fair. He had not told her if she was to accompany him, had not made his intentions clear, and that was wrong of him.
“I apologise,” he told her sincerely. “I should be clearer with my actions so you know what you should be doing.”
She blinked, evidently not expecting his easy acquiescence to her point. “Thank you,” she murmured, finally glancing at him directly. “Was I supposed to go with you, just then?”
Grimult suppressed a sigh, not wanting to explain himself but knowing she was owed it. “Not in that instance. I did not mind you accompanying me to tend to the dishes, however.”
Penryn nodded, smiling to herself as she shifted to pull her cloak about her more firmly. She would be warmer beneath the blanket supplied by her bedding, but he was uncertain if he should be so bold as to suggest she get into her bed.
He would not mind the sleep. His mind was more tired than his body, although he was certain the days to come would see more physical strain. It was the tension that bothered him most, his attempt to notice every detail of his surroundings lest he miss something of importance.
Now that they were quiet, he could even admit to missing his family, belatedly realising that he could have been settled into his own bed by now, if they had flown quickly with few stops for rest.
“You are tired,” Penryn commented, her heat tilted slightly as she watched him.
It was Grimult’s turn to shrug. “The day has been long.”
She nodded, and to his relief, began to unlace her boots setting them aside, her socked feet hidden quickly beneath
