Dawn Treader Valley sufrimiento

She mumbles something in common tongue that he hears from over the shoulder of his soldier. His eyes narrow, vampiric; she was not intent on staying, nor would he force her to, but what waited for her? He whispers wine-country accented Greek to Euryalos; do not push her; before he circles around his side to slink closer to her makeshift home.
You are welcome to stay as long as you need, his neck cranes birdlike before he shifts to a soft stance of pride beside his soldier. Do not feel rushed. Unless there is somewhere you need to be?