Phantom Hollow sweet potato pie

The longer he stayed, the more Smokestep began to realize that he wasn't getting very much out of the pale fellow. While he was fine chatting away, he often preferred when the opposite party took an active role in the conversation. Dune seemed as though he was entirely indifferent to what the corsair was saying. The brute was slow, but he wasn't altogether incapable of catching on. After the white-coated male stated that he was intending to sleep in the wood for the night, Smokestep nodded his head and glanced around. He shuffled his feet to and fro for a moment as he debated his next action. The pirate really wasn't keen on being on his own for the rest of the night, but he knew that he was likely wearing on his present company.

“Right then. O' course, o' course,” he mumbled, nodding his head a few times in agreement with Dune. Aye, fellow I get yer drift, he thought to himself. “I s'pose I'd best be goin',” the diffident lad stated. “Ye can stop by tha coast anytime, lad,” Smokestep then added in a more serious tone before he turned north and began at a steady trot away from the fellow. Still exhausted, he had found some strength to move out of the wood before he would settle down himself and rest for the night.