You must bring us, a Shrubbery.

Suspicion still clung at the back of his mind as Grim spoke, claiming not to be a thief and merely this lost traveller and his pets. Ruth glanced between the dogs, briefly imagining that at some point he may be chased through the brush with them nipping at his heels.

Socks? Was he serious? “No,” he simply, flatly replied. “Truthfully I’m not sure what I’ll find, but if you’re coming along, stay where I can see you. I’d maybe advise the dogs to remain out here.” He didn’t know this guy from Elgar-nan, nor the intelligence of the dogs not setting off a trap even accidentally. “I’d rather not be incinerated or fall through a concealed pit, or a javelin to the jugular.”

Yet even with Ruth’s lack of trust there was no denying his better nature. The man looked off and not in a way that bode well. His words, though, drew some hints to the affliction, causing Ruth to grin slightly. “Since the veil eh? You a mage?”