Shadewood You're just like your father

The name might've meant someone who was tied to the north by more than blood, but to Tryphon it was just a sound. Something to link a face to. He grunted softly as if to accept the title, and burrowed it in to his memory. When next the man spoke the boy was taken by surprise, because truthfully he had no idea why he was here. Looking for Saghani was one thing — but she wasn't this way, he knew that much. Was he running to her, or from her? A brief frown flicked across his already morose features.

Dunno, he blurted, and then after a pensive moment Tryphon returned to the present and added, Was lookin' for... Don't matter. If anything he was doing a damn fine impression of Eeyore. Too bad this wasn't the 100-Acre Wood, filled with friends and family. This was just another foreign place for Tryphon to coast through. He watched the dark man, Thor, without really seeing him. Then when it seemed like he was about to just mosey off, the boy commented dryly: Alone now. Your pack, are they strong?

He didn't know why he asked that. If it was a family, he knew he didn't fit in right from the get-go. If it was a band of warriors, the same applied; Tryphon was no warrior, though he had the bulk, the chiseled figure of a northerner. The soft edges of his youth had tapered away due to his time on the road, and he looked more and more like the rigid, hard-cut father he could not remember. He could've asked if they were happy, or something. Having realized his own word choice, Tryphon would spend hours - perhaps days - wondering why that question had popped out of his mouth like that.