"Took you long enough," Shepard says by way of a greeting. She holds out her hand for the bag, until her gives it to her. One of us is a boy who has supposed access to specialized combat abilities, and the other is a career marine who regularly carried nearly a hundred pounds of gear into every fight. Let's not quibble the details, "C'mon. And, don't get out of arm's reach unless you wanna get separated."

The hedges close in around them like a fragrant breath. It's not shaded in the maze, anymore than it had been outside, but the sounds drop away with startling quickness. Very soon it's as if they're deep in some vast ruin, isolated and exposed. The hedges rustle slightly in the breeze, here and there a soft sound not quite identifiable for direction or source; perhaps a bird? Perhaps only their own feet? Or maybe only imagination. Soon the way back is lost as the maze shifts it silently closed behind them, and Shepard permits herself a breath.

It's nice, really. Hostile, but understandable in that way; she likes something to push against. Gravity, with which to fight.

"You know, biotics need more food than most people, to survive. When I was a kid, I could go a week without eating, if I had to. If I tried that now, I'd starve to death." She shouldered the pack a little higher, settling it more comfortably, "Just so you know."

Just so you know, that she isn't a weakling. Or a coward.