Starglow Basin that long black cloud is comin' down

It was rewarding to get what he'd been after. Verapaz—odd sounding, but not utterly unfamiliar in make. Maybe they were related to the coyote-people further south? The very consideration of a link there made Riddle reconsider his next path; for now he'd bask in the attention and good company of this man while he could.

The caves almost spawned out of the night like eyelids, fluttering. Yawning empty sockets.

I try to be, he replies. A good man I mean. Takes effort some days—but I figure, takes effort to be bad, too. A shrug of his shoulders follows. It isn't in his nature to judge other men too harshly; everyone had choices to make.

There's a lull, there. The stranger looks almost expectant towards the cave mouth and as he passes it, Riddle gets a queer feeling like he's being baited. He doesn't know towards what, but he gets the distinct feeling that these caves should be avoided.

He hastens to catch up to his companion and manages to overtake them along the trail, but slows readily enough. Suppose I don't find what I like out there? Maybe I'll ask around for your Verapaz. He turns over one shoulder, his smile catching a dull gleam of starlight.