She held her breath, tilting her head. Under the soft rustling of the leaves, she could hear the trickle of water. Taking a step, she pulled away from Isaac, and then she took another step, and listened again. The water was stronger, and she darted forward, smiling, to see the crystalline trickle of water pouring over a ledge.
Isaac watched her adoringly, slowing his steps in order to watch hers, a small smile tugging at his lips. Not daring to break the silence, his eyes darted to his feet to ensure that he wasn’t about to step on anything that could snap and distract her, before he followed her through the gap in the trees.
He needn’t have bothered — she turned her head sharply at the sound of a horse crashing through the undergrowth. They reined in, and both Isaac and Summer could see the rider was Greenberg. Quietly, sensing that their romantic interlude was about to be interrupted, Summer crossed back to Isaac’s side, taking his hand in hers.
“The Prince,” Greenberg gasped, leaning over the horse’s neck, “come back to camp — messenger from the castle — for you both — “