These two were reckless, he decided, or at least headstrong. Carson had no rightful idea what they were doing out in the woods, but he knew that the further one went into such forests the more dangerous it became. He decided to speak to them himself and started to close the gap, stepping longer and more swiftly toward them, any notion of stealth abandoned. He wasn't as familiar with the area as he'd like to be just yet, but he knew from even a cursory glance at the notes left behind that they were full of all sorts of perils. The sooner they noticed him and he caught up, the better.<br/><br/>He stopped short himself at the sound of the twig. His senses, attuned to danger, could catch a faint whiff of something--he wasn't sure what, precisely. Leather, or fur, or something not within the usual blend of the forest. He slipped into a crouch and moved as swiftly as he could, first to the girl, who stood among the trees with no pretense of subtlety. He grabbed her arm and yanked her to her knees swiftly, his other hand covering her mouth so she wouldn't cry out. He made sure she saw him, made eye contact with him, and put a finger to his lips. When he was sure she understood he let her go and glanced at the leaf-strewn dirt, then rushed in the direction the man had taken, one hand moving toward the hatchet in his belt. He didn't want to use it, not so soon, but he feared he might have to.