Fool that he was, Hal had labored for a sweet, ignorant second under the delusion that she meant to walk faster. So he was stymied initially when she took off for the trees, and gave due consideration to finishing the trip sedately, like a sane person.

But she'd made it a challenge, and he'd always prided himself on his ability to meet those. Dedication to the difficult was the only reason he'd made it dry the last 50 years. He followed the thick growth of trees visually, the same way he'd watched Riley close in, only this time with intent. With purpose. Choosing to forsake the path entirely meant that he was occasionally thrown by a tree or debris he hadn't anticipated, but once he stopped thinking so damned much, the creature that he was knew how to account for those obstacles without breaking stride.

At its core, without the measurement of good or evil, a vampire was a hunter. He let his instincts take him, and so arrived at the riverbank disheveled, sweaty, and inordinately proud of himself. He'd give it a minute to see what Riley made of that before his general neuroses drove him to start neatening his hair or brushing his clothes free of twigs and leaves.