Lost Creek Hollow Lone ranger, Wayward son

"Ah jeezth, mo bad mon," Rickon said with his mouth full, speckles of blood and gristle flying from his lips as he was embarrassed to remember he hadn't even given his name before helping himself to the stranger's meal. Swallowing, so that he could speak better, the boy licked his chops and smiled. "Name's Rickon. What's yer name, my friend?" He bit into the nearly demolished meal again, crunching through bone and flesh as his ears angled attentively towards his companion. The question posed wasn't one that Rickon didn't have to think on long. He enjoyed company more than anything, and since he hadn't (at this point) decided to take up Valette on her offer of the Stone Circle, he didn't see an issue with teaming up. "I could really use the help, pal. I'm not very talented, I'll be the first t'say— but I'm pretty fit an' I got a decent head on my shoulders... I'm not a troublemaker if that counts fer anythin'."