Hushed Willows tangled hills and tiny verio singing

As far as first impressions went, Mordecai sensed that Stark was a better sort than the one who had greeted him along the borders. He spoke easy, nothing superfluous in those mannerisms or words to suggest that there was anything that needed read between the lines. It may have been what he had to say, or maybe because he avoided temptation via the way of curiosity to ask why Mordecai had gone separate from his family for so long. It may have been none of those reasons either, just an intuition that led him to like-minded individuals.

"He's a good kid," he echoed, "they all are. It's a shame that we've had such a rough year for them to be brought into." From the cougar to the trek they had made to get away, and now this famine... it was a wonder that they were in as fair shape as they were. All of them, really. "I'm Mordecai, by the way." He didn't know whether or not his name was known, though there had been a brief moment of acquaintances made and so on. That had been pushed down in memory; he couldn't have claimed to have paid total attention.