Snowforest Taiga risky play

Yeah, now, he says, a bitter tone dripping into his voice. Champagne eyes focus ahead—unwilling to look anywhere but the unseen goal. He hates having to think back, or when the memories creep up on him unwillingly.
It’s not about me disliking it— I didn’t have a name before. That’s odd to you, yeah? That’s how I grew up. Only the free got names. Me? I was destined to die without one, but I broke that. I fought for it, and I ain’t lettin’ anyone take it from me.
I was a slave since the day I was born, but now I can do whatever the fuck I want. Sometimes it’s traveling. You get it?
Fuck, what if Ghost thinks giving him a name makes him owned again? Fuck, why didn’t he think about this beforehand? He’d been happy at the moment, never had he been called something other than an insult. But who knew what Ghost’s intentions really were. They’re still new to each other. He doesn’t know much about Ghost, and Ghost sure as hell doesn’t know about him.