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Ydalon
The boy's grin at her words was but a smirk through all his panting.
"What makes you say that," he asked her.
"Zakaria was a talented spellsword, and his missing friend had promise too. They made their own choice to fight or run. The outcome of a fight depends on many things, but how should I control those?"
When his heart calmed from the run, he straightened.
"I said I'd take them across the river, and I have. If they want to tag along now it's their choice too, there's not much we owe eachother. But if it's leading you want, then pack up your things because we're going the moment they're done with their chores."
Ydalon sat down, took a spoon from his sling and helped her clean the porridge bowl.
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