How long ago? He wanted to say, but that seemed a bit like asking a woman her age, and he'd been raised better than to do that.

She approached, and it still felt like a kind of dance to him, with practiced steps. She would lead, and he could follow. Nate kept his eyes on her, in the way the fearful might think of as a challenge, and the hopeful as flirtation, or the proud as arrogance... but the wise would know to be nothing more or less than an earnest reach for answers not found in passing glances.

The tension continued to fade out of his shoulders, and finally he exhaled, Yeah, well, I don't think the prophecies worked out all that well for most of the folks who got 'em, so you've probably done me a favour.

Head tilting with a lopsided smile, he shrugged off her apology, Left my manners out in the cold, too, didn't I? Very kind of you to offer, Ma'am. Nate Ronan, at your service. But — I couldn't impose. Though she seemed earnest, most folks didn't prefer bringing a drifter into hearth and home.

He felt a little bad his moping might have put a sense of obligation on her, and rushed to fill the space with a more comfortable, carefree demeanor. As if she hadn't already seen the truth, and he could convince her to take the lesser offering. But then, most preferred to, didn't they? It was more polite. Fellas like me don't mind sleeping beneath the stars.

And I've got a crow around here somewhere, Ko-Ga. Named in his mother's tongue, the word was smooth like riverstone, and still stuck out jaggedly from the voice of his father all around it. He talks enough for about twenty people. Not that he'd apparently felt any compulsion to warn Nate about a mysterious stranger on the approach.