Bramblepoint when the sun is perched at it's highest peak,

"ah, you're right. how foolish of me." cicero mused, the corners of his lips twitching into a very brief smile. perhaps even if the fruit had been frozen, they would surely be gone from critters taking their pick. his gaze lingered on the man, before gliding back out toward the clearing. he liked the image of an orchard in bloom. perhaps he'd make note to return here. 

among the various words spoken in a tongue cicero cannot comprehend, he's able to decipher three; names, and that he—Iseldur—has a squire. "you are a knight? it is a pleasure to stand before one again. it has been quite some time." he hummed calmly, a slight rasp to his voice. 

what a noble pursuit. respectable, even. the man is well-mannered and better tempered, and cicero, often an elusive creature, found himself enjoying his presence. "if your squire joins us, i look forward to meet them, as well. what pack do you serve, if i may ask?"

@Iseldur