Broken Boulder he will stand before the throne

vilkas does not notice her leg at first and then when he does — for how could he possibly miss it, he chides himself — he wonders idly and in a manner that means he is not curious nor prying enough to ask how it came about. he bites his tongue as if the pain of sharp canines slicing into the muscle might keep the undeniably rude thoughts that flit into his mind at bay. he has to forcibly remind himself that he patrols out of routine and not because it's actually necessary. it's not necessary, not with the sanctuary's open border policy. vilkas assumes that in reality her lame leg would hinder her despite that she keeps up, sticking to his flank well enough; but he's not trying to win a race. his pace is casual and slower than he would normally walk so he does not miss anything. he might not be able to act upon strangers walking all through their claimed territory but that does not mean that he doesn't want to know that they're there ...or have been there. he desires to keep close tabs on the borders knowing that their isolation will not last forever. it never does.

she keeps to his silence, not seeking to break it herself. he doesn't mind and doesn't find it uncomfortable in the slightest though he has the sneaking suspicion that his companion is not entirely comfortable with him. it's a feeling he gets, that nagging rise of speculation as he peers at her from the corner of his eye. if it's true then the raptorial firebrand isn't about to attempt to change her mind.

he pauses abruptly as a scent catches his attention but after snuffling at the ground for a moment he dismisses it and continues forth.