as luck would have it, he was nearby.
he'd left heda to her own devices for a time, allowing her the rest she needed — he was not so cruel as to deny a cow time to replenish her stores — and instead occupied himself by finding a quiet place to pray. she'd caught him amid his wandering, and, as was customary, he dips his head in polite greeting.
ah, you must be druid, his smile is thin-lipped and closed, but friendly. is the day finding you well?

ah, i don't take it personally, he slows to walk in tandem with her, silently offering his shoulder to lean upon should she need to rest. i hear you are a new mother. it is a tough time, those first few weeks. i remember those days.
she, too, is a pretty thing; all gunsmoke and ash, perfectly lean and yet plump with motherhood, although the missing teeth were a bit of a damper on his fantasy. he exhales slowly as he turns to meet her gaze. well, i came to rivenwood seeking a place to hole up and retire. in my glory days, i was a general. but, alas, those are beyond me, he smiles at her, somewhat hesitantly; how much did she wish to know? i have two grown daughters, so i suppose that makes me an empty-nester. and i am a widower. i admit, i am not very interesting.

he notices her reserved exterior, the way she keeps her space. he longs to laugh despite the way it frustrates him. i was travelling, and i came across the bypass. i thought it looked peaceful and quiet, and, ah, yes, it was glaukos who took a shining to me. he offered me a place here so long as i could hunt and protect. he seeks the bicolored gaze again, holds it for a short moment. this part was truthful, and he sought to prove it silently. and then, i found out my daughter lives not far from here. funny how things work out, huh? small world.
he goes silent for a beat to take in the scenery, to listen for birdsong amid the trees. when he turns to her again, there is concern wrapped in the aging features. do you know what happened to glaukos? since i returned, i haven't seen him.