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He is so lost in thoughts of grandeur that he almost doesn't see the mare, halting only when a stray breeze carries her scent to him. Even then it is hard to pick her out, her dark pelt blending with the night whilst golden patterns mimic the light patches cast by the luminescent trees. At least the brightness of the snow gives contrast, surrounding her with an element that does not hide her form. Though she seems smaller and more slender than he, he still remains wary, watching intently for any signs of hostility. It is doubtful that Treand would bother to send assassins after his exiled son, but not impossible, and her friendly words only further his suspicions. Even if she is not from Dixtrod, he is doubtful that any land would welcome strangers with such open arms.
Well, they might, but open arms tend to hide daggers, and hugs are the perfect way to stab someone in the back.
Still, he keeps cordial, calm. The fae seems at ease, and he can see no tense muscles, no hint that she may be planning to attack. You're being ridiculous, he tells himself sternly, pushing aside his feelings of apprehension. There is no reason for him to be so distrustful, no so far from his once-home. Besides, this mare might know Delinne, might be able to help him finish his mad quest. It won't hurt to simply talk to her for a while, find out if she can be of any use.
Though, with the way he's just been standing here, she probably thinks he's an idiot.
"Thank you for the welcome," he responds a bit belatedly. Better late than never, right? "You don't happen to know the way out of this forest, do you? I'm getting a bit sick of trees." Being born in a dry gorge has indeed spoiled trees for him, the towering pillars and canopy of branches making him feel trapped. Perhaps that is why he is so distrustful tonight, he realizes, casting a brief, baleful glance at a nearby oak. Damn things, daring to make him uncomfortable. Don't they know who he is? Stupid things are probably laughing to themselves, relishing his discomfort.
Hey, just because he's paranoid doesn't mean that the trees aren't sentient.
No, nevermind
Delium
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Call me your favorite, call me the worst
