He let her go and watched her until she was out of sight, then left to refill the bucket and set it over the fire. He dug out a few fresh washrags and took the pouch of soap off his belt, then carried the whole lot to where he'd done his own cleaning. "Just around the side of the building," he told her when he returned. He stole another kiss before he let her go on her way, and retrieved his hatchet to clean and sharpen it from the work he'd done with it the day before. It didn't take long, though, and when he was done with that he decided breakfast was in order. A bit of Strider's Bread, toasted over the fire, and some of the cheese he'd brought along melted on top served that end nicely. He sat staring out through the trees as he finished it, pondering what the day held.<br/><br/>Returning to Central seemed like the next obvious move. That, or paying a visit to the Huntsmen and trying to barter information from them. As soon as he had that thought, though, he discarded it. If he visited the Huntsmen it would be to wipe them out. Intel be damned. He had sworn to find Oliver's killer, and he would do so. He stood and went back inside, going into his larger coat to retrieve the ammunition for his pistol and rifle. He took it and his belt to the table and got to work preparing for the fight he might be having, humming to himself as he worked, his expression blank as he assembled the tools one needed to take life.