Bearclaw Valley can't complain

He knew it didn't matter what he said, or thought. The people of Rivenwood had never seen his value. They had never accepted the work he had put in. They all saw danger when they looked at him; and knew this when Fiona paused, when they shared a glance with one-another. She did not get closer. She watched him in the cautious way of a deer ready to bolt. He knew that look.

Glaukos did not want to answer any questions either. The effort he put in to Rivenwood had felt like a one-way street for too long, so this would not be an exchange; he asked, she answered. Her questions earned only the slightest shift to the tension in his jaw, which she might not have even noticed at that distance. A hardness to his eyes.

Why ask after him? It wasn't because she cared; he saw then, it was self-preservation. Fiona was afraid of him just like everyone else, although Glaukos had given them no reason to be afraid. Not those that mattered.

He turned to go, to stalk between the sentinel stones; but he answers one question: For now.