Honeyed Pasture Chasing the wind

There was a huff and a snort, both of which he’d looked passed in favour of the actual words. He spoke of protecting himself, which was a statement that the foreigner refused to argue against. Though he felt as if one could do far better with a companion than they could ever do alone, he would not force his beliefs onto his friend, and so the topic was dropped with a nod of his head. Of course, that didn’t mean that he’d never assist the other. In fact, it was far more likely that he’d watch out for him as often as he could, ensuring he did not become distressed, but from afar.

The final word to be spoken stood out, prompting him to tilt his head. An attempt at repeating it was not made, for he worried over mispronunciations. It wasn’t to be forgotten, though, and so he’d asked, “What does that mean?” Given that he knew so little about Zoratto and the culture that he was reared in, he was curious about many things, the language included.