Nova Peak Skeptic

The return of her words gave him pause, and made him smile. To be respected, by anyone, but especially her, meant a great deal to him. He hadn't really earned the respect of anyone since perhaps Aphrodite. He had no doubt lost it with Artyom and his family when he decided not to follow them after the floods destroyed Whitebark. He had arrived in the wilds feeling bitter and angry, wanting to fight off every piece of kindness or love that was thrown his way. Now, even in these dark hours of war, he felt thankful that he might have the vote of confidence from one great and proud woman. It was not something he took lightly.
Takiyok pointed out the flaw in his assertion, and he knew that she was right. He did not want to die just because Wylla seemed to think throwing themselves at Rusalka was a good idea. In fact, he doubted his own skill and competence in the arena, for he was far more practiced with argument and debate instead of physical fighting. Though he was not exactly old, his body was starting to show signs of age. His lack of sustained injuries was nothing short of miraculous given the brash nature of his voice.
No, you're right, he admitted, still smiling thinly, as though all of it was a big joke. With a heavy sigh, he stood, walking slowly toward the path back down the mountain. I need to think. It... um.. He wanted to say "It will be okay." But he had the distinct feeling that it absolutely wouldn't, and he was not the type to lie to someone he respected. I'll see you later, he followed, blinking, scrunching his brow, and glancing briefly at her with a vague expression that tried to be a smile. He felt bad dumping a pile of information on her and then leaving, but she was right that they couldn't trust what the Rusalkans had told him. She was right that there was very real possible harm that could come to her son, to her, and to him that was just not worth it. She had to stay for Stag, but him? He needed to piece his thoughts back together after talking to her.
So he headed back down, slowly. He swallowed. Anxiety pulled at his skin. He shivered, though he did not feel cold.