Neverwinter Forest At the edge of the woods

A damn good question, to be sure, Faolán thought at Scimitar's questioning why he was here in the midst of this famine. I wonder that, myself, every day.

But he did not say as much, the smile still on his face. "Well, it's complicated. Life's complicated. But to make it brief, I don't want to go back to a place where I'm not needed. I don't want to go further south, because I hate the heat. And. . ."

Faolán broke off his sentence, realizing that what he had to say next probably sounded incredibly trite. Ah, well. No reason to hold back now. "I've just got a good feeling about this place; that's all," he ended, eyes skimming the tree-tops as he said so.

"I realize that times are hard," he continued on, looking back at the pair. "I understand that my first duty will be to the pack. I know how it is to serve. You can believe me that I wouldn't seek entry if I didn't mean to contribute."

It was true. Faolán could have remained alone, picking his way through the countryside, scavenging on what he could find. But he was a social creature to the core, and he would gladly take a bit of hunger and discomfort for the feeling of camararderie, of being a part of something bigger than himself.

"Of course, the decision is yours, sir," Faolán said, bowing his head to Scimitar. "But you have my word that I will be helpful and true to your family and pack."