Porcupine Ridge but they're weird and they're wonderful

For the first time, he stole a glance away from the path ahead of him.

Her hips? He looked as if he might see an issue with them. Yet unless she limped or struggled visibly, he could see nothing. Not that he was any kind of caretaker or healer. It made him wonder what he was.

He thought himself no true hunter or guardian — certainly no Hound for his inability to hunt down those he missed — and seemed to lack as medic.

His gaze was eager to return back to the trail and see the grounds roll into the glen. Somewhere here must be a place that she could bed for the day. He would have been hard pressed to make her travel a mile more if she truly thought her hips were like an elder's.

Find somewhere you like, He encouraged even if his tone mellowed into something distant. I might stretch myself further ahead to see if anything of note is nearby.

Even if he tired and hardly fancied the idea of one step more. He would not leave them vulnerable in a new place — and perhaps it would give him time to process her kindness even more.