Natasha comes to find him at the end of the day, when the sun's gone down and most of the wagons that are still travelling in sight of each other have pulled to a stop to set up camp for the night. There are campfires popping up at various lengths in the line of sight the mountains allow - a necessary indulgence, because the night air is already growing bitter cold with the sun setting and there's crisp snow underfoot.

She's curled up in a large blanket, dressed in a shirt and a pair of pants that are too big for her, but she's been making do with a rope for a belt and rolled-up pantlegs. It's still better than a skirt and a corset, in her opinion, even though it's still making a hell of a fashion statement.

She shows up to drop down beside Robin's campfire with a flask of whiskey she's been hoarding since she picked it up in the Outpost the day before. She holds it out to him with a rueful smile.

"Here. Thought you might need some of this after today. How's Henry?"