Otter Creek be Bob Ross and paint me a picture

wintersbane gives a quick, shallow assessment of the male's physical condition viewable to him from the distance between them, noting that he looks worn. no doubt he's seen better days. there is confirmation to his question. the other male is, as wintersbane had assumed, lost. "you're in otter creek," wintersbane informs him with a furrow to his brow before posing a follow-up inquiry. "does the name sound familiar?" was he from the wilds as so many were? or was he new? these are things that wintersbane cannot deduce by an assessment though it occurs to him that the other male might not have a response.

wintersbane ghosts forward a few steps, lured forth by his unbidden curiosity but cautious. he doesn't know this man and he could violate; though that consideration was short lived as the longer tries to rise from his place but ends up slumping into a sitting position instead. frankly, he didn't look like he was in any state to put up much of a fight and this belief drew the frosted tundrian closer still.

"you are unwell?" the question posed was strictly rhetorical; it's easy to see that there was something amiss with the loner as wintersbane was concerned. easily, wintersbane could leave him here and go on his way but something stops him. not necessarily a conscious but a consideration nonetheless. "what happened to you?" wintersbane asks next. his medical knowledge as a warrior is limited and basic but his knowledge had been enough to tend to tywyll and keep the boy alive. perhaps he could be of some use to this loner, too.