Lion Head Mesa sun touched

An unidentifiable emotion nestled itself within his chest. It remained ambiguous as his head tilted upwards, ever so slightly, and large ears canted towards Toula. Lower jaw flexing, as though he had momentarily forgotten how to speak.

Good deed. Lord.

It is reflexive to deny her. That he was deserving of any title was preposterous. He could grumble and snap and bare his teeth in a display of his own ugliness. He could be mean. He could sit in a room of happy people and manifest a rot within himself to remain sour.

Was one good deed enough to change what he was? The personal cost in helping a stranger was next to none. Briar was a poor man; the only thing he possessed in great quantities was time. Home was where he stood and he had no one to look after aside from himself. Such was the life of a traveler.

Was it the mark of nobility to not want a stranger to die? Briar didn't know.

But Briar couldn't deny that he helped someone.

Briar couldn't deny that his current lifestyle wasn't without danger. Nor could he deny that winter brought with it uncertainty each year. He couldn't even deny that even he had experienced a maddening loneliness from time to time (although admitting that was something else entirely).

I accept, Pharaoh. Once more, you have my thanks. He is careful with his words, analyzing them for any that may be a bard he is unaware of. Toula would seek him out in time, he was sure. Dread gnawed at the pit of his stomach. Would she be disappointed in what she found in him?

He would just have to face it. It would be worth it at the very least to see the silver woman recover. To know that he really did effect someone's life for the better, well, it was not something he experienced often.