The Heartwood i'm a ghost of you, you're a ghost of me

The peculiar young man mumbled a wish of luck to Ford. The brute nodded his head softly at the woodland wolf, still wondering how he had ended up so mangled. It was probably for the best that he did not know. The beast inside of him was eager for war, and he did not need to know the cruelty of others; it would have fueled him. Instead, he opted to leave the young man to his peace.

Turning, Ford glanced over his shoulder with a furrowed brow.

“Say, what's your name? In case I run into you again...” the titan inquired. It would have been beneficial for him to keep track of those that he crossed paths with. Though the mangled fellow didn't seem as though he had a good grasp on talking with his severed tongue, Ford was not deterred. He lingered in a state of remaining and disappearing, waiting to see if the woodland fellow would respond.