The Tangle lament

By now the last of the sunlight has bled from around them, and the first stars are beginning to wink into view.  He cannot relate to her.  He has never been lost, not really; the fires had disoriented him but still he knew that the Great Star pointed North, and that he had left the North behind.

She talks more than he cares for.  Tsiokwaris is silent in general, and particularly untalkative when it came to the common tongue, but it seemed as though he was a foriegner in these alien lands.  When he speaks, his words are accented and slow. Your home is nearby?  He had not caught even the faintest border scent from the wind except for when the woman drew forth, but her words led him to believe it was closer than he would like.  Tsiokwaris.

He hesitated and drew his dusky gaze briefly up to the stars.  Do you get lost often?  Is that why you will not travel far from home?