Neverwinter Forest Piscean

Why here? Catamaran didn't have a compelling argument, nor did it occur to him to come up with one. He'd wanted to know what had pushed her to cross their borders in desperation when asking for help might have been more feasible, but he supposed that, to an injured wolf, either option might spell death.

Catamaran was not sure what the hárkonungr would want him to do with her. Her words, however, sparked a few ideas in him.

She had enough fight left in her that he'd made no headway in drawing nearer. His attempts to do so subsided, and he only stood at the ready to regard her. A failed assassin? He had been there a time or two. But now — "I am an accomplished assassin," he told her, pleased by the commonality and wondering if she might take offense. "You won't be a damaged youth for much longer," he noted. Whether she died or grew up — "You should take advantage of pity while you can still evoke it."

He did pity her.

"Why don't you stay," he suggested, his tone changing subtly. "Let me feed you. You can leave when you can outrun me."

He assumed she would understand the cost of such kindness.