Talimar smiled back and then looked down at Kre, his eyes seemingly scrutinizing every inch of the boy in front of him. It was enough to make Kre feel more than a little self-conscious about his appearance, especially as he noted how well dressed the company seemed to be.
“Where I come from,” Talimar continued, filling the awkward silence with his lyrical words, “one introduces themselves after others have done so.” Unlike Kersath, he wore no hood, but as he ran a hand through his long hair, Kre noted the distinctive pointed ear feature of an Ylveryan.
Almost as an involuntary reflex from the new revelation that Talimar was an Ylveryan, Kre slowly turned his head to examine Beleg a little closer.
The large man noticed immediately. “Oy!” he called out, seemingly affronted by the nonverbal accusation. “I’m a Tehynshin through and through.” He glanced up at his leader and quickly mumbled, “Not that there’s anything wrong with being an Ylveryan, of course.”
“Of course,” the entire company seemed to respond as one, as if this was a well-rehearsed line that was invoked often.
“Tehynshin here too,” Dain piped in, using a free hand to sweep the hat from his head, revealing rounded ears. “Not that anyone was asking.”
That left only the child, Rasmussen. He wore his hair back in a loose ponytail so that even from a distance Kre could see that his ears were rounded. Next to him, Beleg cleared his throat. Not in the “I’m about to speak” manner, but more so in the way indicating, “It’s your turn to say something dummy.”
“I’m Kre. Uh… Tehynshin as well, from Mintas.”
“Never heard of that place,” Beleg said shrugging. “Must be a small village.”
Kre nodded, mentally kicking himself for saying where he was from in the first place. “I’m not surprised. It’s a pretty tiny place.”
“A tiny village… yet, you’ve been gifted with a tyrfang.” There was no question, not even the hint of suspicion in his tone, yet Kre felt the scrutiny regardless.
“Talimar,” Dain called out, gesturing towards the sky. “We lose the light soon, and still much riding ahead of us.”
The leader of the adventurers nodded and swiveled his horse around. He waved Kersath forward and the dark-skinned, raspy voiced Ylveryan came forward with a second horse behind his own. “Mount up Kre of Mintas,” he called back, his horse already moving forward down the game trail. “I hope you can ride well. As Dain said, we have some ground to cover.”
Beleg had gone to fetch his own horse, a massive, white stallion wearing bits of metal barding and bearing two lances affixed vertically to the front of the saddle. “Can you ride?” he asked Kre quietly, so the others could not overhear. “I can offer a crash course, if you need.”
Kre winced at the word choice, “I’d prefer a staying upright in the saddle course, if you have that one ready.”
It took the large man a few seconds to get the joke, but he then followed up his understanding with a hearty laugh. “I’m thinking you’ll be good company,” he said with a wide grin.
To answer the other question, Kre swung up into the saddle gracefully and quickly settled the mare. As the others were already some distance away and gaining ground, Kre nudged his loaner horse forward, leaving Beleg to catch up.
“By the way,” Kre asked, using the most casual tone he could, as if he were asking about the weather or how someone was doing, “where are we going?”