Ravensblood Forest mexican grand prix

Though she was tempted to refute his claim that he had been tracking her at length, Echelon knew she didn't have enough knowledge to really debate that. It wasn't like he couldn't have gotten the drop on her as soon as she had pressed her way into the evergreen forest. In spite of her stubbornness, she simply didn't have the energy to consider the possibilities. It was simply easier to seem not to care, and in his obliviousness it also seemed it wouldn't have mattered either way.

"No," she stated, turning away from him. It felt as though it were half-lie, half-truth, but she really didn't know what she was doing any more. It was a strange feeling, this sense of being adrift. She hadn't been instructed one way or another on what it was that she was supposed to do. Going home hadn't earned her much other than a fast track back out in the wilderness. Who was to say that Tonravik wouldn't have reacted the same way, even in light of their blood oath? An aggravated, bristling feeling wormed its way up her spine then; Echelon smothered every ounce of it drifting outward. She wasn't inclined to let on about her own troubles.

Nor was she going to linger there either. Abruptly, uncaring whether or not her tracker of sorts was going to follow, she moved on as though she had things to do.