Running. Deirdre had first become fairly skilled at it as a child, though she quickly realized that trees and streams did not make for an ideal course. Adolescence, and the paranoia of living alone, found her occasionally making a swift exit from a scene. Granted, that did not help her keep a low profile.
Running beside another person was different-keeping pace, not crowding them, just being aware of their presence was something that was foreign to Deirdre. It was much easier to be aware of the forest, though it was not the one she called home.
She tried not to think of their pursuer. She failed. Finally, it made a move to catch them, but-
Water caused her shawl to twist in the stream, catching it on a log. Ah! Panicking, she attempted to wrest it from the wood.
In her struggle she called out to Tobin. “Can you swim? I can, but…” Turning in a different direction, she saw that her companion was right about their foe: It appeared unable to enter the stream.
The water of the stream shocked his system the moment he landed into its chilled embrace, but Tobin recovered quickly, swimming to the surface with ease. Once he emerged, he gasped down a large breath of air, still panting from the dash that carried him to safety. He opened his eyes, ignoring the water that dripped into them as he glanced about. Swimming came naturally to him, as his youth involved playing in the stream near Ram frequently. While most of the waterways were at most knee deep, there were a few deep portions of water that he and his friends played in countless times.
Glancing to the land, Tobin was relieved as he watched the creature turn about aimlessly, unable to locate their scent after they entered the water. That was way too close for comfort. That definitely could have turned out bad. He thought as he watched the creature begin to wander in the opposite direction. It was then he registered Deirdre calling out to him, which demanded his attention. Cutting through the moderate flow of the stream, Tobin swam to reach her, looking to her with concern.
“What’s wrong?” He then noticed the shawl she held in hand, which appeared to be twisted under the water’s surface, “oh. Sorry...guess I wasn’t thinking about what you were wearing. That’s not really practical for swimming.” He said, though he didn’t mean any malice by it. He paused, considering what they could do in the situation. He did have a knife, if the shawl didn’t mean anything to her.
“Are you...attached this by chance?”