* 68 * 1/14/13
Bishop didn't know whether he should run at the top of his speed or take his time, to search west or to veer east. He didn't know if she would seek shelter or be mad enough to keep running with no regard to her own safety. The ranger felt like he knew nothing at all about tracking – something he'd done for a very long time – when it came to this elf.
Bishop figured her to be – unfortunately – the run-'til-I-pass-out type. More than anything else had in the past year, this got him panicked.
As usual, his mind resorted to swearing at and calling Lily names in order to offset some of the tension. But Bishop quickly shut himself up, knowing his hostile words weren't going to get him anywhere near her.
"This damned rain!" he shouted, wanting to shoot something through the heart with one of his arrows. The harsh rain not only made it nearly impossible to track Lily, but it also made her chances of survival if she stayed outside longer than a few hours grow thin.
Bishop wondered what kind of cover she had, if any. He wondered how much she'd eaten, if she'd slept enough the day before to give her enough energy to go for awhile tonight.
Then he remembered how the day had gone, how the events that had transpired today would take all the energy out of anyone.
He began thinking of a plethora of things he'd teach her the next time they went out in the woods together before realizing that that would probably never happen again.
Not knowing what else to do, he swore once more into the cold, deaf night.