Llyraien's head snapped upright as a shiver scuttled through him, and he cursed under his breath as he realised the fire had gone out - that meant he had dozed off. The rain was still drumming steadily outside, obscuring much of the view from the mouth of the cave, but the uneasy feeling in his gut told him that he needed to be sure it was safe to light the fire again.
He unfolded his lanky frame in a manner not unlike a startled grasshopper, and padded lightly to the cave entrance, being careful to remain hidden behind the rock in spite of the darkness outside. He paused for a moment, almost holding his breath as he scanned the black for any sign of movement or anything unusual. Finding none, he reached into the pouch at his hip for some kindling as he made his way back to his spot by the fire. He placed the kindling in the fire pit and carefully added sticks from the pile next to it, then gingerly sat back down on the cold cave floor. He raised his hand in an almost imperceptible gesture, and the kindling crackled into a small flame. He didn't want to risk feeding the fire too much in case anyone saw it, and he didn't really need the light because his night vision was acute - but damn, it was cold, and the small flame gave him some comfort against the chill and damp.
He pulled his cloak around his shoulders and settled into a more comfortable position, eyes and ears still focused on the space just outside the cave. He could put up a shield, but he knew full well that they'd sense the magical energy and would be drawn to it, and he wasn't going to risk it. He knew he would have to keep moving and find another place to shelter soon enough, because his pursuers were relentless. He smiled mirthlessly at the thought, mentally plotting the next leg of his travels. He couldn't stay in the mountains for long, but if he stuck to the lowlands and the forest, they'd find him easily because it was way too close to the citadel and their regular patrols.
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He didn't dare close his eyes, because if sleep didn't get him he knew the memories would. He shivered again and shook his head as if to clear the cobwebs of those memories out of it - no chance of sleep now, because his whole body sang with adrenaline and tension in spite of the apparent lack of present threat. He snapped his attention back to the cave entrance, noticing the moonlight glinting off the puddles in the dirt outside. His right hand shifted subtly and found his sword, his fingers resting on the hilt.
He stayed there like a cross-legged statue for hours, no perceptible movement, eyes glued to the cave entrance until he saw the first blush of dawn start to creep in. He took a swig from his flask, then stood up, sword in hand, and shouldered his pack. He would have to move fast if he was going to beat the first patrol. Kicking dirt over the embers, he edged along the cave wall to the entrance, scanning the landscape outside. If he stuck to the ridge while it was still not yet light, he should be able to make it beyond the treeline before the patrols would be anywhere nearby.
Edging out of the cave mouth, he silently thanked Eona that there was very little soft dirt underfoot to leave footprints, and flattened himself against the rock as he surveyed the surrounding trees to make sure he was alone before silently moving along the rock face, following the line of the ridge above.