The walk started out rather easy, since they had to cross a fair distance of gently rolling hills before they reached the steeper parts of the area. There weren’t any proper mountains around, as such, but some of the hills were pretty close, at least once one got back to the Ridge, as it was not-so-creatively named. For most of it, they walked through grass on a level with their waists, though occasionally it got tall enough that Ainsley was submerged in it to her diaphragm, a fact which seemed to amuse more than trouble her.
All things considered, she wasn’t that chatty as a person, and it was difficult to carry on such an activity with someone who didn’t know sign language if she wasn’t directly facing them anyway, so she declined to fill the silence, not that she’d be able to appreciate the difference if she had. Alexander seemed inclined to watchfulness, and she didn't miss is wary glances around the area, but she chose not to comment, understanding that this was likely an old habit by now and not something she should insist he try to relax. Whatever it took to make him feel more comfortable was fine by her, and if that included constant vigilance, who was she to say he didn’t need to be so careful?
With a couple miles behind them, the grass grew shorter, and was interspersed with more rocks and trees, and the ground started to slope upwards more sharply. Here, there has once been a road, and it was still evident in the scar of what had been a gravel track for vehicles, though it veered off further left than they needed to go. Ainsley instead chose an old deer track, little more than a narrow rut of bare ground. It hadn’t rained in a few days, so the mud was mostly dry, making the climb much surer than it would have otherwise been. Smaller trees and saplings provided regular handholds on the steeper bits, and Ainsley climbed with the surefootedness of someone long used to this kind of thing, navigating up even the nearly-vertical surfaces with ease.
At one point, they reached a sheer rock face of about twenty five feet high, and she turned to her companion, a mischievous quirk at the corner of her mouth. “Race you,” she said, moving to the bottom of the wall. It appeared she didn’t really need an answer, and intended to make the climb in any case, pulling herself up by the first set of handholds she found, only to replace her hands with her feet and stretch to reach the next. Free-climbing was perhaps not the safest thing one could do, but she’d been doing it since she was old enough to go hiking by herself, so she wasn’t concerned about her ability to manage a wall this short.
All things considered, she wasn’t that chatty as a person, and it was difficult to carry on such an activity with someone who didn’t know sign language if she wasn’t directly facing them anyway, so she declined to fill the silence, not that she’d be able to appreciate the difference if she had. Alexander seemed inclined to watchfulness, and she didn't miss is wary glances around the area, but she chose not to comment, understanding that this was likely an old habit by now and not something she should insist he try to relax. Whatever it took to make him feel more comfortable was fine by her, and if that included constant vigilance, who was she to say he didn’t need to be so careful?
With a couple miles behind them, the grass grew shorter, and was interspersed with more rocks and trees, and the ground started to slope upwards more sharply. Here, there has once been a road, and it was still evident in the scar of what had been a gravel track for vehicles, though it veered off further left than they needed to go. Ainsley instead chose an old deer track, little more than a narrow rut of bare ground. It hadn’t rained in a few days, so the mud was mostly dry, making the climb much surer than it would have otherwise been. Smaller trees and saplings provided regular handholds on the steeper bits, and Ainsley climbed with the surefootedness of someone long used to this kind of thing, navigating up even the nearly-vertical surfaces with ease.
At one point, they reached a sheer rock face of about twenty five feet high, and she turned to her companion, a mischievous quirk at the corner of her mouth. “Race you,” she said, moving to the bottom of the wall. It appeared she didn’t really need an answer, and intended to make the climb in any case, pulling herself up by the first set of handholds she found, only to replace her hands with her feet and stretch to reach the next. Free-climbing was perhaps not the safest thing one could do, but she’d been doing it since she was old enough to go hiking by herself, so she wasn’t concerned about her ability to manage a wall this short.