Neverwinter Forest the game has left you behind

@Phillip?

Mathieu wandered through the territory with his characteristic spunk. Each step was a bounce paired with a whistle, his heavy body light as he made his way to the border. There was still enough time left in the evening for a quick patrol, and with nothing else to do, Matty was ready to begin.

If Phillip could lay around and sleep all day everyday he would, but everyone's gotta eat. His growling stomach was too loud to ignore anymore. The boy reluctantly picked himself up and sniffed around for any nearby caches.

He didn't find any food, but he did stumble across someone else. Chipper and bright, he was Phillip's opposite. It was too late to go around him, so he took a deep breath and put on a small smile.

Hi, he greeted as he approached. What are you doing?

An unfamiliar voice, paired with an unfamiliar face. Mathieu turned back and faced the stranger with a face-splitting grin, figuring that this must be another packmate; a trespasser wouldn't be so bold...right? He stopped walking so that the other could catch up. Nothing much, he replied, Patrolling, I think. Gotta make sure the assholes don't make it inside. 

Matty looked capable of inflicting more damage than was true. His muscle was hardly ever put to use (there had never been a need!) but with the threat of danger, he needed to pick up the slack. His companion was comparatively small. Do you...patrol?

Assholes? He repeated it just to get an understanding, immediately regretting it when it slipped from his mouth. It sounds bad, like he wasn't supposed to be saying it. Bad.. You mean like.. bad guys?

'Patrolling' was just as unfamilar as 'assholes'. Phillip fell silent, pondering the question. He said he needed to keep the assholes out, and he figured there were two ways to do that: talk or fight. Phillip couldn't do the latter, so if that was a requirement then- N-no. I don't think I'd be any good.

Oh, yeah, Matty laughed, They're the ones who are just mean 'cause, who knows. He thought that bad guys could be organized into two categories: troubled individuals and assholes. The former was less of a concern. He nodded for the guy — What's your name? — to follow as he slowly continued around the border.

Philip didn't seem very self-assured. He was different from Simmik and Mal, in that, he seemed much more likely to cower than to fight. Matty would never admit this aloud, but he was in a similar boat. I'm not good either. We can just...take a walk, if you want.

The answer sent a shiver down his spine. Everyone did bad things for one reason or another. No one would just do bad things for the fun of it. Right? The thought briefly sends him back to the river, and suddenly he's breathing a bit harder than normal. I-I-

What's your name?
He’s back in the forest. 

I-I'm Phillip.. hey, w-wait! There wasn't much distance between the two, but it sure did feel like it. He jogged up to the man's side and glanced around.

Yeah, I'd like that. His focus wasn't completely on his company right now.

Parles-tu français? he asked. Philip was a common enough name at home — Philippe, Felipe — for the question to be warranted. After a moment's pause, he added, I'm Mathieu, but everyone calls me Matty. It sounded cooler, right? His given name was too formal, just like his brother's. 

Matty hummed an old hymn as they walked. He remembered Mal's warning about the trouble plaguing the forest, but couldn't recall any names. Philip's appearance suggested that he might have been a victim. This was considered, but not acknowledged, as Mathieu knew enough about courtesy to not openly ask about someone else's trauma.

Huh? Whatever part of him that wasn't all there had come back to reality (he was thankful for that). Now he was just trying to decipher what  the man, Marty, had said. Parlee, he whispered under his breath, Parlay..

Phillip was so curious as to what was just said, he had forgotten all about introductions. What does that mean?

I don't know why Marty is so fucking funny.

Mathieu shook his head. No, pahr-ul. Pahr-lay is what you say to like, a leader or something. His accent was less than perfect and his vocabulary could be improved, but Matty was confident in his speech. Most wolves didn't know what he was saying anyway, so his lack of expertise didn't often matter. It means, do you speak French? I thought so, 'cause you have a French name.

Pahrluh? Pa-roll..? The fact that he couldn't get a couple simple syllables right was baffling, annoying even. Maybe it was just anxiety that through him off. He wondered if he would get it right if he practiced saying it on his own.

He had never heard of french before, so it's interesting to learn that his name was derived from it. Really? I never knew that. I don't know french. Phillip looked up with a curious glint in his eye. Does my name mean something too?

Practice makes perfect. Philip was an interesting character, seemingly bold and timid in the same breath. Mathieu found himself enjoying the boy's presence. It's a cool language. My Grandfather made me learn. Similar to his mother, he knew several languages: French, Spanish, understood a tad of his cousins' Creole. I'll teach you sometime, if you want.

Matty shook his head and laughed. Nah, it just sounds cool. Super cool, if you say it with the accent. He turned his head upward and pranced in gaudy fashion, jokingly calling to his companion, Fee-leap! Oh, Fee-leap!

Practice indeed made perfect, and practice he would. Hopefully it'd all go smoothly with Matty teaching him. When he offered to teach him, Phillip eagerly shook his head. It'd be nice to know how to do something, and he needed something to look forward to these days.

Matty's dramatic display was entertaining. Phillip smiled—it's the first genuine smile in weeks—and laughed. Watching him almost made him want to bounce around too, but a lively trot is enough for him.

Fee-leap! he repeated, giggling afterwards. You're right, it does sound cooler.

Mathieu laughed and turned to brush his friend's shoulder. Dude, you're a natural, he complimented, You'll learn in no time. Philip was unfortunate enough to have an amateur as a teacher; hopefully his expectations weren't high, otherwise they wouldn't be met. 

There was a short lapse in conversation. Matty looked around, making sure that there was no one approaching their border. How did you end up in the Forest? he asked, turning an eye to Philip. He wasn't really one for small talk, but wanted to keep this company for as long as he was able.

R-really? No one ever told him he was good at anything, and he certainly didn't believe he was. The compliment comes as a shock and there's a small part of him that doubts it. Still, it makes him feel nice, so he accepts it for now. Thanks, he said bashfully.

They silently walked for a bit until Matty asked a question. Oh. It's a long story, but he'd try to simplify it. Well this is my second time being here. I didn't stay here too long the first time. I thought my friend was gonna stay here with me but when he left he didn't come back, so I got worried and left to find him. When I was looking for him I ran into a couple wolves, Zephyr and Firestorm. We stuck together to look for my friend and Zephyr's brother. We came across this place again and Zephyr wanted to stay. Of course I didn't want to leave him so now I'm just.. back here again.

You don't sound enthusiastic, Mathieu laughed. His expression was one of slight concern, but he wouldn't press unless prompted. It's cool that you're here, though. Now we can be friends. He couldn't remember his last friendship, if it even existed. For a long time, the only wolves he had were Grandfather and Yves; where were they now?