King Elk Forest the descent to hell is easy

For the briefest of moment Mato thinks he sees interest flicker across Trajan’s face before it vanishes, and Mato tucks it away. “You’ve had quite a journey then,” Mato surmises in a contemplative tone, winding himself around another tree. He winces slightly as the bark tugs out a small tuft of his fur but he keeps going. A small price to pay for ensuring the King Elk Forest is not stolen out from underneath Tindómë. It is theirs and he would bleed for it, for them if that was what was required of him. As Mato has never been a fighter and until recently shown no real interest in it, this knowledge surprises him a bit; but the truth behind the feels are not diminished by his surprise. “What is it like? The world outside of the Teekons?” Mato will never leave them. He was born here, he will grow old here, and it is here he will die one day. He knows this. Knows this in the very marrow of his bones; so his curiosity is only that: he seeks to sate his muted curiosity for that which he knows he will never see. He pauses along their path to sniff at the ground before he lifts his leg to mark it, afterwords turning bright, apple green gaze to the soldier as he patiently waits for his words.