Green-tinted sunlight streamed through the foliage high above the patrol, though the tops of the trees were crowded too closely together to catch glimpses of any dragons flying overhead. There was no room for their dragons to maneuver easily between the trunks; patrolling the thick forest for bandits and poachers meant horseback. A mount that couldn't talk back was rather pathetic, but Siham treated her horse as well as she would any of her other possessions: jealously, carefully, but never with so much attention that it would force her Pearl to make good on the promise to eat the horse should Siham start caring for it too much. 

She had given up the cape for today, the better to avoid having the fabric snag on branches. Her sword was strapped to her side, while a bow remained untouched, but nonetheless at the ready at first sign of danger. For the first few hours, she had said little more than she needed to to the captain who accompanied her on the patrol; they weren't here on a pleasure outing to chat and sing folk tunes. But as much as they were watching the shadows in the deep forest and trying to make sense of every scurrying sound on the leafy floor, she was also watching and making detailed note of the new captain himself. His reactivity, the way he held himself, whether he slouched to slack off or was instead tightly wound up in unnecessary stress. He looked young, but she'd only been about that age when Durrah was near fully grown. Durrah had never been discreet about her disdain for being under command of a baby red, as she called his juvenile dragon, and the skepticism extended to the babyfaced captain himself. Whatever Durrah thought was worth putting to consideration. 

"I assume you've seen the reports on disturbances near the deep forest caves," she said, by-the-by. "Why hasn't anyone gone yet to see?"