There was little guiding that was actually required of Galt; his horse clearly knew to follow hers as they raced across the fields and cantered through the forest. For the most part the woods had been left wild and untouched, which was a bit unusual. Paper products were becoming increasingly popular and sought after, especially books, and less wealthy nobles resorted to hiring laborers to fell their trees in order to sell the lumber. It was a testament to Silke's success that, despite the brief mismanagement of the estate's finances under her father, they flourished now to the extent all their acreage was ruggedly unblemished. The only sign of human interference in the nature around them were the paths that carefully wound around towering oaks.

Intermittently she checked behind her to make certain that he hadn't been jostled from his saddle. She knew the area well enough she slowed (and his horse slowed as well) when they were approaching a spot where they would need to ride through a small jump or quick turn. A couple times she purposefully brought them to a walk, both to rest their steeds, and to show him points of interest: a conifer that had been split by lightning and had managed to heal and a pack of deer so used to seeing her that they didn't flee unless so long as they kept a minimal distance. Silke could also name and identify half a dozen helpful plants that grew under the shade of the canopy as well. Her mother had never expected her to be academically brilliant, but she had taught all her children the importance of knowing what lived on their lands, from the most innocuous fungus to the most cunning predators.

It took a little more than half an hour, even with their quick pace, to reach the lake. It was a natural lake, rather than a man-made one, and had an irregular shape, larger on they side on which they had approached than the other. The edges of it were rocky, littered with pebbles that had become smooth over the years. A few boats that could hold two people at most, along with their oars, were neatly tucked away under a wooden protective structure to their right. On pleasantly lazy afternoons the Kaspers and their guests would row out on the calm waters and take in the sights. Of course, that was before Violet and Alistair had died, back when they entertained and hosted social events.

They were drinking in the sight when it began to drizzle. Silke glanced up at the sky. The clouds were a light gray, not a darker hue that would indicate a thunderstorm was imminent, but it was not the best weather regardless. There was absolutely no way they [i]wouldn't[/i] get drenched; it was a matter of how long they wanted to tolerate riding in the rain. She bit her lip as she contemplated her choices aloud. "We could go to the cabin for rain cloaks, but by the time we reach there it won't really be much help. There's some natural shelters as well, though not big enough for the horses, so all our tack will be soaked, and we don't know how long this will last. I suppose we'll head back to the house?"

A little rain wouldn't do them much harm. Ladies of the court swooned, feigning illness the moment a drop touched them, swearing it made them sick with the most vicious cold. The truth of the matter was they were often milking any attention they could get as delicate flowers. It was getting cool, however, and Silke wasn't in the best of health, so that did pose a slight risk to already compromised immune system. She blinked as runnels started to trail down over her long lashes and cheeks. The greatest threat was that her clothes (and possibly his) wouldn't be quite so modest once they were plastered to them.

"What do you think? Ride back the way we came? You'll have to hold on tighter with your legs," she warned anxiously. "These saddles aren't meant for the rain, so you'll slip in it a bit more than you did on the way here. Perhaps we should take it slower," she mused, worried about his ability to endure a fast ride to their residence. In fact, she was more concerned with him on a whole than she was with herself, and would defer to his decision, so long as it was reasonably sensible.