Felltree Marsh [m] alive!

Tybault blinked, caught off-guard by the warmth in the stranger's smile and abruptly aware of how muddy his furs were. He pulled his legs from the mud to step onto a patch of drier land, shaking himself in an uncharacteristic surge of self-consciousness. He tried not to think too hard about it, though.

Used to, He rejoined, gaze searching when it returned to the boy. I'm Tybault. Just passing through now. What about you? Agitation prickled at the edges of his thoughts. What was the point of all this? He was wasting precious time and energy, things better spent devoted to his companion.

It wasn't as if anyone else would ever stick around, given the chance. Tybault still wasn't sure why Wildflower did — but he knew that he couldn't fuck this up. Not this time. Not again. So he needed to hunt, he needed to do this, and just why was he letting some green-eyed boy make a failure of him?

It was weariness that kept him in place, in the end. He didn't know that he had the energy to deal with his own thoughts in solitude just then.