Sleeping Dragon in the space between chaos and shape, there was another chance

As she’d taken the lead, he’d followed closely, observing both her and their surroundings. The greatest perk to having kept silent for the majority of his life thus far was, perhaps, how in tuned he’d become with the task of watching others. He’d looked to them for a number of reasons, but usually it was to ensure that he was understood. He’d grown accustomed to such behavior, and seemed to practice it even when doing so was not necessary—second nature, it had become. The boy’s observant tendencies were neither ceased nor altered when in Thur’s presence, either, and so he’d noticed immediately when the reins were handed over to him.

The viking slowed and looked towards her, questioning her intentions. He could not tell what it was that she might have planned, nor did he truly attempt to. His focus had instead gone into steering them towards the borders, at least a single ear twisted back to listen for the adult at all times. If she were to try and leave just as his father had done, or decided to strike him for having chosen the borders to visit, then he wanted to know about it.