Armor donned. Sword and shield strapped in place. Pack added to the horse.

Alistair works quietly, stealing glances out at the water every few moments. It's on the tip of his tongue to make a suggestion, something involving the words small boat and next time, but the assumption that there will ever be a next time --

Well. That's part of why he lingers, once everything's ready to go, to take in the view one last time.