A Mission Based In Happenstance

Navina's smile faded at the man's comment. He was right - who would be willing to track them? Not her associates, considering they had sent her off alone. Part of her had to wonder why her fellow guardsmen seemed to avoid long term missions with her like the plague. Maybe she was too zealous in her work. Was there a point of being too focused? She shook her head. Thoughts like those weren't welcome. Despite being covered in gore, as Navina approached the clearing she felt a strange calmness wash over her.

"... We should search this area more," the Gerudo said. "I'd stop here to rest. Maybe they would as well."

"Mm. Perhaps," Callad agreed, cleaning up his sword and sheathing it. He would re-sharpen the area he'd hit the moblin with later. For now, his right arm ached, the scar pulsing. He'd had little chance to rest, so perhaps, while there was an opportunity, he could rinse it in the cold water, perhaps that would revitalize it. He moved towards the spring, stepping over the hardened roots of many trees and the dead leaves and pine needles that littered everything. He unclasped his cloak, letting the thick, heavy material slide off him. Next, he doffed his baldric and sword, shield, bow and arrows.

He removed his green tunic, then his chain shirt, then his cotton shirt beneath that. His torso felt the kiss of the brisk air that hovered around the pool and falls as he removed his boots and thin leather socks. "Give me a minute, Lady Navina, but I've a personal matter I must attend to in the water." Moments later, there was a splash.

When he surfaced, he swam, one-sided, to the near shore, sitting on a submerged rock as he soaked the ropey, dark scar on his right arm, rubbing the muscles as he grimaced.