[ she crouched, sliding one stockinged foot over a root and then a second one, looking more surefooted then she felt. How often had she done this? Far too many. But there's a muffled hiss as she comes across a dead end and with very careful movements, she pushes a branch out of the way. It was that or scraping the ground and she wasn't about to ruin a good blouse for this fight. ]