I nod, fingers brushing the lines down the sides of my trousers. "I was - I am. We're a free and rough sort of the group, but it's a comfort to travel with them." I can hear what must be a stream in the distance, not too far.

He speaks of his wife, and I shake my head. "What do you mean, about her father?" I gesture at the woods. "Do you have a home here? The forest doesn't seem well populated. We've hardly heard a wood-cutter or charcoal-burner or hunter or band of dwarves," I comment, smirking inwardly. Stories always make it seem like one ought to be tripping over people in forests, but in my experience they're usually quiet and seemingly deserted.

Which is how I prefer it, of course. Should I eat him now, or wait until we meet up wit his wife? I'm more than just hungry, after all.