Silently taking in the others’ words, he gave a curt nod before refocusing on his stride. Using the information they’d shared, he adjusted their bearing and began to march with renewed purpose.

At the mention of druids, his nose wrinkled. Oh, good. Plant nutters. Tree huggers. Whatever else they do. As long as they kept their distance, he’d keep his complaints to himself.

Letting the women chatter was an easy enough task; he had little interest in their talk beyond any clues about their destination. Instead, his golden eyes roamed the landscape, the rolling flora, the distant mountains, and the glimmering ocean where this so-called moving island was said to drift.

He released a low, gruff huff, but otherwise remained silent.