By the time Nathan and Hanzo made their way back to the village the day had burned down to its last light, the sky above the trees deepening into that particular shade of blue that exists for only a short while before it decides to become night entirely. People were still outside, small clusters of Shinobis speaking quietly or simply sitting, taking the evening at the unhurried pace of those with nothing immediately pressing to attend to.
Nathan was already thinking about the waterfall. The morning's training and the long walk back had left a familiar layer of sweat and dirt on him, and the cold clean sound of the water had been sitting in the back of his mind as a promise for the last hour.
He had taken perhaps three steps toward it when one of the Shinobis appeared at Hanzo's side with the silent materialization that Nathan had largely stopped being startled by. The man extended a rolled parchment toward her without a word, the seal still intact.
