Symon's gaze flicked to that flush, filing it away for later, to pull apart what had appealed to Asra so. Charmed perhaps. But by the grin, the bow or both? "I used to work with a unit or partner. We drilled of course, which helps, but there was nothing like fighting alongside a partner who you've fought with before." The cant of his mouth deepened, "So we might not have the training, but for the next time, we'll have something almost as good."

He led them from the cave, putting himself ahead of Asra, his bright eyes alert. "And perforce, I'll try and keep clear of your spells. Wouldn't want a faceful of fire." The sun was bright after the cool dimness of the cave, and Symon had to squint initially against its glare.

As they crept back into the forest, Symon began to hum, half singing under his breath.

"The Chelixian's wife was as fair as the sun,
and her kisses were warmer than spring.
But the Chelixian's blade was made of black steel,
and its kiss was a terrible thing."

The tune was slow, but Symon's voice was rich, and every syllable seemed to ring, lingering in the hot summer air.