Summer caught the smile and returned it. “I wondered if you ever smiled,” she commented. “The honor of the Knights of Camelot is legendary; not so their grimness.” She followed neatly, a certain tension easing from the set of her shoulders at the prospect of his protection. “I knnew how many days the trip would take ahorse, but I’ve no idea how far I’ve managed to come on foot. Is the city far?”
Mordred gave a small breath of laughter, “I do smile,” he answered, “only I was concentrating on whether or not you were trustworthy, it didn’t leave much of a chance for social niceties,” he explained.
He pushed through the brush, flattening ferns beneath his feet, stepping over fallen branches and logs. “It is not far, but I’m not sure if we’ll make it back before nightfall or not.”
“Oh, I am not trustworthy, not at all,” Summer laughed. “Alone, and rather more helpless than is my usual wont, as well. I don’t think you need fear me, Sir Knight.” She neatly ducked a tangle of slim branches, sliding through the brush beside him with barely a rustle. “Were you planning to stay the night in the forest, then, since you too were so far from the city? Or do I slow you down so?”