It was not armor he had made, which made him all the more sorry to be abandoning the craftsmanship of someone else. He nodded silently and stood. He now carried only a chainmail shirt, a gauntlet on his right hand, and the bull's helmet which he repositioned so it rested against his chest. He watched her go, then quickened his pace to overtake her.

He did not seek to stop her, but instead to risk the rough way down first. He stumbled and twisted around root and stone until at last his feet crashed into the water. He leaned down, cupped his hand, and filled his dry throat. Then he waited for her to follow. He curled one elbow around a young tree and then offered a raised hand to steady herself on the way down.