Rayadell watched him with her usual, emotionless stare as Calanon reached into his pack. She leaned lightly on her staff until he sat the wrapped food on the ground between them. She stepped toward him and knelt, her hand running down the smooth, intricate carvings of the weapon.
	She gave him a curious look when he went for the strips of cured, dried meat. She had met very few elves along her travels who chose to eat meat they did not at least know the origin of. She opened a couple of the smaller pouches to see what was inside, impatiently waiting for him to finish gathering his food. Once he had completed his sandwich, she tore off a chunk of the bread and cheese, and grabbed a fair portion of the jerky for a single meal.
	Though she ate the cheese with the bread, she left the jerky on its own, happily sating the carnivorous side of her race last, enjoying the flavors of the mild salts and spices coating the meat.
	Once she finished, she stood, offering only a stiff nod to Calanon’s observations of the food quality. Her brows rose as he went through a stretching regimen, a pang of jealousy momentarily flitting through her at his freedom to do so while her wings ever itched for the same release.
	“Practicing to become a tumbler in a carnival, are you?” She smirked as she went to where her pack still lay by the now all but dead fire. She picked it up as he posed the question of their means of travel.
	She glanced up through the trees, its leaves giving glimpses of the snow-capped mountains awaiting them. The wish to get up there, to be surrounded by the familiar cold and desirable altitude, made her antsy to arrive as quick as possible.
	Instead of voicing her desire, she waved her staff dismissively as she turned her back to him, taking a couple slow steps toward the thicker trees. “Whichever you think best. Your elk traveled quite a ways yesterday. Should he need a longer rest, our feet are quite capable. You choose. I’ll return shortly.”
	Rayadell hurried through the woods. Once sure she would be out of eye-shot, she removed her cloak, relieving her wings for a short moment in her own stretches, before placing her pack at her back. She reluctantly drew her wings in to her back as close as possible, then replaced the cloak around her shoulders.
	She returned to their makeshift camp a couple minutes later, sure he heard her coming from a long ways off.
	“Which will it be, then, Calanon?” she asked, her head cocking slightly, the strand of black-tipped white hair ever over her face shifting slightly.