The further they go, the thicker the forest and the less easy it is to manage. Clint relies on their horse to know how best to pick her way through the mess, but it means slower going when the opposite is what he wants. He keeps very carefully from growing frustrated, a sniper's patience treating him well.

But Steve curls his hand around Clint's wrist, and he stills. Looks over with sharp gaze and readied weapon, already nudging their horse in order to hopefully escape what pursuit they might have. It'll set them back, but if it keeps them alive then it doesn't matter.

Hold on tight. He signs, carefully, gaze picking through the trees as if he might find the beacon Steve mentioned.