Dawnlark Plains Stop, what the hell are you talking about?

He was ready to leave her there—chivalry held no place in Kigipigak's heart, only judgement, and he had judged this woman as broken. Beyond weak for her display. 

As he turned mid-speech to leave her he stopped cold. Stjornuati was striding closer and watching them both. Kigipigak glanced from his leader to the woman, his good ear fidgeting as she speaks; a bold, accusative tone lances the air.

Not the seaside, no. Kigipigak answers with a shake of his snout. The woman is tense. He cannot tell why, as she appears considerably more healthy than his first glances told him. Missing an eye, older than him, a touch melancholic—stormbitten but stalwart.

We are from the Watch. The mountain, that way— Kigipigak motions with a head tilt, striding a few steps away from her so that she can have space; and to let Stjornuati get a better look at her. He glances at the other man with an expression of slight concern; though, he is more concerned for himself than the woman, considering his own circumstances.