Neverwinter Forest said he was a sailing man

It was disrespectful not to answer her clearly. Catamaran knew this. But the part of him that felt incredulous of her border etiquette told him to return disrespect in kind. Even so, he tried to walk the wavering tightrope of her tolerance.

Finally, an expression crossed his stony features. A slight frown that suggested he disagreed with something she said. Though she had scarred him, he still held a deep respect for his mother. True, she had not been very patient or nurturing, but her vocation had never truly been motherhood. He respected her for what she was: a warrior. A hunter. A priest.

The bounty hunter held on to the urge to defend her until it passed.

"One day you'll be bigger," he said instead. "Then you won't regret learning to be stubborn. You only need to live to see that day."

Another flicker of an expression crossed his face as he was named Mist. This was was less easily defined as a smile or a frown. His eyes were still solemn, still shuttered meanly even against this low light. But there was a quiet regard in them all the same. His desire to see the back of her was gone and forgotten. Now, he wondered how to keep her from leaving.

"They call this pack Forneskja," he told her, his voice still low, but taking on a new quality. Like this was a secret. Did all children like secrets? He had, when he was still small. "I will tell you about them. If you will tell me about the moon wolves."