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Mordred grunts, his eyes fluttering open after a few seconds and he smiles. “Good morning” he mutters, moving into a sitting position “you didn’t have to.”
“Yes,” Summer sighs. She takes the time to give him a quick kiss before untangling herself, tucking stray strands back into her braid and smoothing it flat again.
Mordred pulls himself to his feet, shaking dry leaves from his curls before he begins dismantling the fire. When he is done he blends the ashes into the earth with the sole of his shoes, throwing the rocks and what is left of the wood around to make it look like there has been no one there. “Let’s go.”
While he’s doing that, she saddles the horses and repacks the blankets. Her mouth quirks when she looks at him; there’s an errant curl sticking up over one eye that gives him the look of a particularly demented and dashing fae. She brings his horse over to him and holds it while he mounts, then swings up herself.