Daemar adjusts the strap of his satchel, muttering curses under his breath as another low-hanging branch whips across his face. His golden eyes narrow as he spits out a leaf that's somehow found its way into his mouth. The forest around him is dense, humid, and utterly miserable. "Could this get any worse?" he mutters, wiping a stray lock of green hair from his face. The braid he'd carefully tied this morning is already unraveling. Typical.

He glances back over his shoulder, golden eyes narrowing. There she is, the princess, trailing behind like an angry little storm cloud. Her perfectly coiffed hair is a tangled mess, her fine dress now torn at the hem. She looks every bit the damsel in distress, but without the gratitude one might expect after being rescued. Not that this is a rescue.

"Come on, princess" he calls, his voice dripping with exaggerated patience. "We're burning daylight, and I'd rather not be eaten by wolves just because you're taking your sweet time."

He doesn't wait for her reply — he already knows it'll be some sharp, indignant retort about how this whole situation is his fault. Which, sure, maybe it is. He did kidnap her, after all. But if she'd just cooperate, this would all be over so much faster.

The elf presses forward, the forest growing darker as the sun dips lower. The air smells of damp earth and pine, and somewhere in the distance, a brook babbles merrily, mocking his sour mood. He steps over a fallen log, his sharp gaze scanning for any signs of trouble. He knows better than to let his guard down, especially with her in tow.

His instincts prickle — a familiar, uneasy feeling creeping up his spine. He grips the hilt of his dagger, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "Wait." He crouches, his freckled face lit with concentration as he examines the ground. Tracks. Fresh ones. Someone else has been through here recently. Perfect. Just what he needs. "Fantastic." he mutters, rising. "Looks like we've got company."

Without waiting for her reaction, he unslings his bow from his back and nocks an arrow. He moves swiftly, silently, motioning for her to stay put. Not that she'll listen. She hasn't listened to anything he's said since this journey began.

Sure enough, when he turns around, there she is, standing far too close for his liking. He groans. "Princess, I said stay put. Do you want to get kidnapped by someone else? Because I promise, they won't be as charming as me."

She folds her arms, glaring, and he doesn't need to hear her response to know it's another complaint. With a sigh, he lowers the bow and rubs his temple. "You know, I've dealt with bandits, assassins, and even a dragon once. None of them were half as exhausting as you."

As the forest grows quieter, Daemar motions for her to follow, his patience hanging by a thread. He knows the road ahead is long, and the thought of spending it with her constant whining makes him wish he'd charged the king double. Maybe triple.