Luna took his hand as he offered it to her, lacing her warm fingers into his. Her hand felt so small and fragile in his as they walked on into the night. With Luna’s touch, he was able to use his senses better. His eyes were clear, the night barely tarnishing his vision. The air was clean for now, apart from the smell of dirt and moss, there was no trace of the rotting stench from the previous night. The wind was behind them tonight, blowing their cloaks forward with its force. Luna's hair flew around her face, whipping him occasionally as they walked. She pulled a small twig from a nearby tree and used it to pin it back in a tight bun.