Bedecked with Rings, Bound with Strong Purpose

Seeking beyond the hedge

The morning dawned, a slight chill to the air, but the rising sun promised to chase away the lingering cold. The fire was still warm, the flame eating away at the remaining firewood. Fading, meaning he'd timed it correctly, enough wood for the night. Had he planned to stay, he would've added more wood, but with the plan to return Emily to her group he'd be leaving this spot behind.

Max shivered as he pushed off his furs, cold air hitting his bare chest as he rose and straightened to stretch, arms braced above his head as he regretted the soreness from sleeping propped up on a log. No helping it, really.

A glance to his bedroll confirmed the presence of an unmoving lump, curled up against the chill. Asleep still, then, which he wasn't all that surprised by. The shock of being thrown and then the strong possibility she was lost and unwilling to admit to it likely took its toll and, well, the impression was that she was fairly pampered. That noble haughtiness that hadn't been shaken off through exposure to uncouth commoners.

Rubbing his bare arms to ward off the chill, Max bent down to pull on his boots again. Both them and his breeches had dried out over night, the leather a little stiff from the water but a good oiling once he was back in his quarters would prevent it from getting worse.

Not that he really had to worry about ruining his boots anymore, but he'd much rather have a pair of well worn ones than a brand new pair that'd rub blisters all over his feet. He'd been a soldier for long enough to know the benefits of the longevity of boots.

Max shook his head, letting go of the woolgathering and slowly starting to pack up the camp. He didn't try to stay quiet, but didn't bang around excessively either. A check of the clothing on the line confirmed that they were relatively dry, gently folding and relocating them nearby the sleeping woman.

That done, he picked up the rest of his equipment, packing it up and readying it to be loaded on the horse. A quick trip down to the stream refilled the bucket, water for the horse and for dousing the fire.

He was giving the horse its feed when Emily stirred, unfurling and letting out a small huff. Max glanced towards her, curious, but looked away as she emerged. Her hair was ruffled, but with the braid it didn't look wild.

"Good morning," he called, catching her by surprise as she startled and whipped around to look at him, wide eyed. He decided not to make a big deal of it, instead informing her, "Your clothes are dry."

Then he turned back to the horse, rubbing a hand on the centre of the beasts forehead as he heard her struggling to get up tangled up in the cloak and blankets as she was. The horse munched away on its feed, uncaring for human nonsense. With the gentle fwoomp of a pile of fabric falling to the ground, Max made sure to not turn around, ears listening for her struggling with pulling her clothing on without dropping the cloak.

When she offered a quiet "Thank you," then he turned around, seeing her standing awkwardly by the bedroll with his tunic hanging from her hands. He saw now that the clothes had a cut that did remind him of the more wealthy, if a little different in fashion from Derenrice nobles and wealthy merchants. Local fashion from wherever she'd come from, maybe.

Stepping forward, he gave her a crooked smile and took his tunic from her, shrugging a little bashfully at the thanks. "Least I could do." He pulled the tunic on over his head as he spoke, muffling his words but he figured she caught it.

When his head popped out of the neck, she was holding out the cloak. It was relatively cold, so Max took the cloak and draped it around her shoulders again. He had his overcoat, she had neither cloak or overcoat, simply clothing designed for travel, but travel in warmer climes. She hadn't planned to go camping.