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It had been a long time since she'd visited Scotland. Several years. When she was very young, Dash had always imagined having a house somewhere out here in the middle of nowhere, away from everything. With magic, nothing was ever truly very far away after all; it was easy to achieve a quiet life without losing any of the conveniences of living in a more populated area. For the past few weeks she'd been here, in the highlands, on an academic trip of sorts. She'd joined a team moving along the coastline, studying the summer migration patterns of a sea serpent relative of the Hebridean Black. Now that the summer had come to an end, they were wrapping up their trip. Today, she was hiking with a friend.

"You wouldn't believe the lengths they have to go to to keep everyone safe and unaware," She told her friend with a soft smile, adjusting her backpack straps as she walked. "Muggles are so convinced there's a dinosaur in that loch it's become an entire tourist attraction." She shook her head a little, moreso at the idea of a magical creature being harassed by anyone than in bewilderment of their interest. She was empathetic; if she heard rumours of a creature she didn't know existed, Dash would be the first to sign up for a research expedition. But there was something so aggressive about animal tourism; there wasn't anything low-impact about it.

The grass was damp underfoot, and the untouched landscape stretched out on all sides all around them like a painting. This sort of environment - so quiet aside from the wind and their footsteps - was so immense in a way that only an uninhabited area could feel. Like the ocean, it's vastness challenged her sense of self-importance. It was grounding. The brunette stepped lithely up a few jagged rocks, tucking away a strand of hair that had escaped her plait once she was at the top and the path had smoothed out again to more of a gentle incline. It had been a long time since she'd been on this sort of hike; it surprised her that she wasn't out of breath yet, although it probably shouldn't have, what with all of the swimming she'd been doing in the past year.

The young woman's hazel eyes flicked to her friend as he stepped up beside her. She knew that they'd talk about his relationship at some point, but it hadn't come up just yet. Dash was a patient and collected sort of person; she wouldn't push him if he just wanted to be distracted. In the past, the pair had enjoyed these sorts of experiences; nature walks or nights by a campfire behind the cottage she used to live in with Sindri. She smiled as their eyes met and started walking again, taking a moment just to look out past him at the foggy landscape around them. She hoped it would all do him some good.

"So... when's your next tour?" she asked, shooting him a relaxed and teasing smile. He knew she didn't really keep up with his work life, especially now that she lived outside of the UK. He didn't fault her for her cluelessness when it came to his music, which she appreciated. She didn't even know if there was a next tour planned.

Sam was reminded, again, that he was not as much a hiker as Dash was— while he imagined that she was doing this for the inherent satisfaction of having done it, for the atmosphere and the beauty of the world and the likes, he was definitely doing this only for the inherent satisfaction of making it to the end and having lunch and lukewarm beer. It was about companionship, and stuff. He adjusted his own backpack as he caught up to her, stared around at the admittedly picturesque mountains. It was a good day for it, this kind of harebrained naturey thing.

“Kind of think it’s sweet,” he said, a little out of breath. “They’re curious. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t go looking, if you caught wind of a dragon or something in a lake.”

Though he was sure that the point of this hike had been to keep his mind off of Jeanne, it was doing the opposite; Jeanne had been a naturalist too, had been a lover of the outdoors and of the quiet. (Ironic, really, that they’d hit it off so well. Sam didn’t have a quiet profession, or even a quiet personality.) As he caught up to Dash he was struck with a wave of grateful nostalgia, that she was so okay with just walking, and not having to talk. It was a good thing to do, sometimes.

Of course, as soon as he’d thought that, she’d asked him a question; he shrugged— “We’re working on the next album now, but I don’t know about a tour. Depends when the album comes out and if it’s well received.”

It was a good day for it, foggy enough to be beautiful and enough of a chill that he wasn’t miserable. Sam, trekking just a step behind his friend, added “So, you find anything cool about the— “ he had absolutely forgotten what she’d come to Scotland to study— “Harpsichord Black?” Sam had never really understood much of what magizoologists did, but he liked to hear about it. Probably a bad impulse, right now.

"Nearly there," Dash reassured him, teasing just a tad. It wasn't a very long hike; she could almost see the top from where they were. A cool breeze tousled her hair, and she tucked a few more loose strands behind an ear. She just nodded in response, a faux-reluctant yeah, yeah, on the tip of her tongue. Of course she'd go hunting for a new species of dragon; the wonder she felt when faced with new creatures was almost unique to that very experience. But she had a researcher's approach; she just wanted to observe, to see, to experience. She was gentle.

"Right, new album first," Dash said, nodding as if she knew what he was talking about. Though she, too, travelled for work, the idea of going on tour with a band was quite an abstract and unimaginable one for the young woman. She'd asked Sam about it once or twice; his descriptions of the life they lived for those few months of promotion didn't appeal to her at all. She didn't think she could handle the pressure.

Harpsichord, he said. Dash smiled to herself, her gaze drifting to the path worn through the grass ahead of them. "Yeah, I have a lot of stuff to sort out later," she told him, not bothering to correct his mistake; it felt like an unimportant thing to get hung up on. "A lot of data, I mean," she added, glancing his way. "The boring part of the job." She wrinkled her nose a little. Writing hadn't ever been much of a strong point for the former Hufflepuff; it was something she'd really had to work on once she'd moved into her research position with the university.

"Oh, we're here," she said, eyes ahead again as she took the last few inclined steps before the path flattened out. Slowing to a stop at the top of the hill, the girl shrugged her backpack off. She placed it softly on the ground and rolled her shoulders back a couple of times. From up here, she could see patches of sunlight shifting across the open landscape. Despite the fog, and the clouds, there was still quite a clear view of a small loch below, reflecting the patchy sky perfectly. The path ended in a fairly flat grassy area, the damp grass interspersed with large, damp, ragged rocks.

“New album,” he agreed. “Then we have to be booked, and talk to the agents and stuff— guess that’s what Kate’ll do, though.” Sam let himself think again about that; he’d been pretty miffed at first when Charlie suggested they hire Charlie’s girlfriend as manager; now that she was Charlie’s wife he had no doubts that Charlie and Kate were about to have an even more concrete advantage in their decision making. (Not that he minded that; he’d trust Charlie with the music, Kate with their image. Maybe not the other way around. He suspected Liam had less faith.)

He stepped carefully around a weed— not that he remembered enough of Herbology to know if it was the sort that could sting him, but he didn’t want to risk it. “Oh, data,” he said, letting his tone lighten significantly. “Fun. You can tell me all about their migration patterns, or their…”

Sam didn’t remember enough magizoology terms— he’d listened to Jeanne talk about her work, of course, but she’d specialised in land amphibians, not sea serpents. “Mating routines,” he threw out, with a little grin. “Whatever.”

He was a step or so behind her when she announced that they’d arrived; as she slung her backpack off her shoulder, he mirrored her actions and then sat down heavily in the grass. It was damp, uncomfortably so; he brushed his hands on his thighs as though that would help. He wondered how long it was polite to wait before he pulled out the six-pack in his bag; probably good to wait a little longer, right?

“How long are you in Scotland for?” he asked, and glanced over at her. It was sunnier up here; he shaded his eyes with one hand. “You’ll be going back soon, right?”