[No more breath wasted on words: swiftly Fenris heads west, keeping a watchful eye on that rift all the while until at last it disappears beneath a hill and out of sight. At one point he thinks he hears the mournful groaning of a demon, but if so, it isn't his problem anymore.
He's camped a little less than a mile away, his things neatly arranged (and trapped, thank you very much, for petty thieves steal almost anything they can't nail down). A horse grazes idly nearby, unbothered by Fenris' return and uninterested in his newfound companion. It isn't cozy, exactly, and it's a camp geared far more towards practicality than comfort, but on the other hand, there's a fire that Fenris sets to building, and a soft place for his newfound companion to settle while he gets his bearings.
For his part, Fenris busies himself with the fire. It's for practicality's sake, yes, but for the sake of his companion. He still looks so bewildered, and while Fenris does want answers, well. He can give him a chance to catch his breath.
At last it's done, and Fenris sits back. Tugging a small bag out of his belongings, he picks a few strips of dried meat out of it and tosses it lightly to the figure across the fire.
(Is he basing all this on how the Fog Warriors acted those first few days? Perhaps. Not consciously, but he does remember how deftly they threaded the needle between giving him space and offering him companionship, and how much that helped).]
My name is Fenris.
[He nods at the bag he just threw.]
There's food there, if you would like. And I have water.
no subject
He's camped a little less than a mile away, his things neatly arranged (and trapped, thank you very much, for petty thieves steal almost anything they can't nail down). A horse grazes idly nearby, unbothered by Fenris' return and uninterested in his newfound companion. It isn't cozy, exactly, and it's a camp geared far more towards practicality than comfort, but on the other hand, there's a fire that Fenris sets to building, and a soft place for his newfound companion to settle while he gets his bearings.
For his part, Fenris busies himself with the fire. It's for practicality's sake, yes, but for the sake of his companion. He still looks so bewildered, and while Fenris does want answers, well. He can give him a chance to catch his breath.
At last it's done, and Fenris sits back. Tugging a small bag out of his belongings, he picks a few strips of dried meat out of it and tosses it lightly to the figure across the fire.
(Is he basing all this on how the Fog Warriors acted those first few days? Perhaps. Not consciously, but he does remember how deftly they threaded the needle between giving him space and offering him companionship, and how much that helped).]
My name is Fenris.
[He nods at the bag he just threw.]
There's food there, if you would like. And I have water.
Does it still hurt?
[The marking, he means.]