[The Bronze Wood] The Return, and The Visitor (Samael)

[Sturlin]

He corrected Sam immediately, "Mister Pickles"

When he noted the smile on the other's face he gave another one of those hard stares. It was not as though he was particularly offended, it just seemed wrong to him to describe the cat in such an informal way. After all, Sam hardly knew Mister Pickles. Sure Sturlin occasionally dropped the formality when they were alone, but he had known the cat from a kitten. These thoughts ended abruptly as he shook himself off with a shrug. Perhaps realizing that his tone was rude to the only human company he'd had in some time he sat on his log contemplating his hands for a moment.

"And the horse, his name is Francis." This was added in an apologetic tone.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"Mister Pickles," he corrected himself, sure that he had only heard 'pickles' earlier. "And is it just Francis, or Mister Francis?" He was not trying to be snide. The ghost of a smile on his lips was just due to the whimsical names of the animals and how much he appreciated them.

[Sturlin]

"He is just Francis." Sturlin allowed himself to share a small smile with Sam. At least the traveler was likable. It was unfortunate that the young man was headed into the city. It wasn't as though there was an abundance of good company in the forest. On second thought, abundant company would definitely interfere with his plans.

"If your time in Syliras does not turn out profitable, to which horizon will you turn?"

As he asked this he scooped a handful of earth from in front of him and let it run through his fingers. He did not plan to do anything with it of course, but the presence of it there soothed his nerves and made him more comfortable with the idea of a stranger nearby. He was, and surely Mister Pickles would adore the pun, in his element after all. There was no reason that this couldn't be a pleasant evening after which he would politely send the wanderer on his way.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"Mister Pickles and Francis," he said again for remembrance's sake. He nodded to each in turn. "Pleased to meet you. That's Horse over there."

He dug at the dirt in front of him with the heel of his worn out riding boot, thinking over that question toward the future. He usually didn't think about the next destination until the current one became problematic or boring.

"Well, perhaps north. Spring is here so it'll soon be the best time for safe travel up there. Or sign on with a caravan as a horse wrangler bound for wherever they're going. What about you? Any plans to leave the forests here?"

[Sturlin]

Now it was his turn to dig at the dirt a bit with his fingers and contemplate. He knew well enough what he planned to do but he was not sure he should share that information with Sam. After a few moments of mulling it about in silence he decided to share.

"Deeper into the forest. I plan to find the center and find a home there. Somewhere far from caravans." At this he offered a wry smile and shrugged. "I am not ready to do so yet, but when I am I will find another home for Francis and seek my goal with Mr. Pickles."

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam's head cocked to the side at that, curious, but politeness keeping him from probing deeper. Perhaps he didn't want to know what a grown man might do with a hairless cat in the center of a forest.

"It's certainly a nice forest," he offered gamely.

[Sturlin]

He shrugs a bit and looks around at it, apparently not sharing Samael's assessment of it. Uncorking his waterskin he takes a deep drink and then stows it away in his pack and cinches the pack shut tightly. Surely Sam had his own water, and there was no need to share any now that they had established that little bit of trust.

"Not my favorite place," he said as he stirred the logs around in the fire with a stick. "But it could be much worse. I could be up in the north. The cold does not agree with me." He rolled his jaw a bit, popping it as he did so.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"I've been up there," Sam said, nodding his agreement. "Not terrible in summer, but winter..." He shook his head. "Well, if I had ice water for blood, I might fit in up there. The horses were nice, though."

He nodded thoughtfully at those horses, marveling at how they were bred to survive in the harsh northern winters.

[Sturlin]

He took a moment to glance up through the leaves at the sky. Allowing several moments to pass he eventually spoke up, "Will you be needing help pitching a tent, or do you sleep beneath the stars?" He did not say it so much from an urge to kill the conversation entirely, but his conversational skills were slowly running out. After spending this much time avoiding people on principle he found it much more difficult to make conversation that he anticipated.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam looked up too. Then to Sturlin.

"I think I'll just save myself the trouble and put out my bedroll next to the fire. It's warm enough, and I'll be leaving as soon as dawn wakes me up." He tried to gauge whether Sturlin was hinting at him to go to sleep or not. He wasn't always the best at reading subtle hints.