Barrow Fields permafrost giants

"Mm," he acknowledged, catching on to the stranger's proclivity for non-answers. That was fine. Skífa didn't know what he'd do with a real, genuine answer anyway. Feel bad? No, not likely. Still, his dark gaze lingered thoughtfully on the black wolf. It sounded like Corvo was trying to convince himself, more than anything. Maybe Corvo didn't want to go far away from his old home. Skífa couldn't really relate.

"Skífa." It was the first time he'd exchanged names with anyone in a long time. The sound of his own name was an odd thing to hear after not hearing it for so long. "Corvo, you want to travel with me little ways? Up the coast, catch something to eat?" Or at least until he got out of the Barrow Fields. He didn't necessarily care if Corvo wanted to travel with him any further than that. But he was still feeling reluctant to be in the fog by himself. Skífa drifted another step away, though, feeling stupid. He masked it with another uncivilized smile.