Silverlight Terrace one, two princes

Friendly or unfriendly, the kid at least isn't aggressive. Not that Kindle would expect him to be, at that age. He felt wary all the same, mainly about any diseases that the stranger might be carrying — but that was no reason to be impolite.

"Kindle," he replied, as simply as the question that had been posed. He assumed that had been the question, at least. "You?" he returned, taking a few cautious steps closer.

Tattered ears. Gaunt features. The scent of blood. It all spells trouble — but it was just a kid, and Kindle couldn't bring himself to end the encounter before he'd found out if there was anything to be done for him.

"Where's your folks at?" he asked, trying first common, and then repeating the question in clumsy Northern tongue. His cousins had tried their best to teach him, but Kindle had never been one for languages — unlike his stories and gloried elder brother.