Haunted Wood Way down we go.

Her countering voice is barbed, demanding answers. Revui doesn't have many for her, and shrugs his stiff shoulders; he isn't patient enough to handle an interrogation by a child and would much rather nap, but she doesn't seem interested in leaving him be. Nor does she seem particularly invested in helping him—but he hasn't given her a reason to, and maybe she's incapable, being so small. It isn't normal for Revui to think so much about a situation but he has nothing else to do but plot.

It doesn't hurt to speak, he decides. Although his voice is grating and bothersome to wield, he answers her questions with blunt responses, as is his way. A warrior. The world is breaking—I needed shelter. There wasn't much to his tale, and he wasn't the kind of person to go in to needless detail when simplicity did the trick. If he had his way Revui would never speak; he would go by the natural law of things, using posture and intonation alone to convey what he needed, as he needed it. This required a more delicate touch and the leviathan was anything but. Other wolves fought me. I lost. Now... Drawls the beast, looking around at the empty expanse of the pit. Now I am here, and here I stay.