Redhawk Caldera A search for the weak- a call for the broken

A low laugh left the trickster's throat. He had never been good at comforting others with words. He was cliche when it came to drama and long speeches- much like wolves he had met on his travels. He wasn't offended. Sorry. He giggled in a bass-tone, than bowed once more as Perry made his leave.

When uncle P was out of sight, he turned to seek some herbs to eat for the time he was going to spend on his search. It didn't take him long, and soon he was off- to the bramblepoint he'd go first.