Qeya River Sticks and stones

Pretend this post isn't as bad as it is.

Thuringwethil didn’t expect everyone to thrive through the famine as they had but it has been enough time that most should have come around by now, if they were going to. Perhaps her home had not faired well through and disbanded, or the others had died, leaving Roz out in the cold to fend for herself. What mountains she refers to, she isn’t sure, but only recollects Nova Mountain to the north west of them where they’d met, but she doesn’t push for too much information on the correlation between the two.

“Would you like an escort home, when you’re ready?” she offers then, partly to pry, partly a sincere gesture. If she is too injured to defend for herself, Thuringwethil isn’t cold enough to leave her out here alone where any others can take advantage or do any further damage. They may not have much of a relationship, she and Roz, or even the dragon and where she’d originally hailed from, but that didn’t mean her kindness can’t be extended enough to form a bond.