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

not foolish, he corrected, an almost-gentleness guiding his words, should his accent not be so rough, so broad against his tongue. some ùbhlan survive. these do not, however. a shake of his head, as if he was disappointed. and he was! most apples were delicious, it was a shame that they vanished come wintertime. sun-man sighed.

no name was answered to him ; perhaps the stranger wished not to share, and to that, iseldur would say nothing. answering questions came easily to him, although his words in common-tongue may be awkward. he wondered if there were any speakers of his mother tongue within these lands asides from his partner. yes. i am knight latha.

cathal... likely that he is around. hope he does not get swooped up by bird, again, when the man had defended him as a pup from a pecking gull, and only a few days ago when the big-beaked bird had hurtled down akin to a death-bullet. he is cù. ah... dog. very tiny. easily picked up, by me, by bird. a dry chuckle, then. almost humoured.

a pack? làithean-òir, our pack. but... ah, no longer. we travel. search for new home. curious, scouting, you see? winter not best time, but we stay strong. mostly i help him. a cheeky grin formed upon his face, then, and he wondered if the boy was nearby, and if so, if he was close enough to hear what the knight had to say. grin fell to a smile.

he looked back at the nameless one, then. you? have pack?