"Impressive," Telaris remarked with actual sincerity, and stepped into the small grotto. True, it was ill-suited to more than two or three, but this little enclave would be a more than suitable for the pair of them for the night. Underfoot, the moss was spongy, a bit unbalancing, but he made his way over to the stream-fed pool without much difficulty, and knelt, cupping his hands and gathering some of the pure spring water. It was cold, and he sipped it from his palms silently, mind already tracing the possible paths his prey had taken. Once he'd drunk as much as he wanted, he filled an empty flask with it, stoppering the vessel and slipping it back into the bag he wore.

"I suppose we'll rest a while and then move out in the early morning.. With any luck, we can track her to wherever she may be hiding by daylight before many more days pass." Moving back over to a particular spot, he settled in, using his travelling staff to help him make a small indentation in the grasses, and began setting up for some sleep. "Somehow I suspect we may have to dismay some overzealous fellow seekers, but your bow and a few suitable spells should keep all but the most persistent from following us too closely." Perhaps he was being a bit overzealous now himself, speaking so freely with the stranger. But there was nothing of immense value in his words, and perhaps it would lead the archer more readily to believe him a trustworthy companion. 

Or maybe it was worthless, just empty, useless words escaping out into the night air, heated from their stay in his hot-blooded body. Only time would tell - for now, he genuinely relished the idea of sleep, even if these mosses and grasses were far more humble a bed than he preferred. "Wake me in the morning," he said with an air of finality as he got comfortable, and bedded down. "And don't sleep too heavily. We don't know who else could find this little hiding spot."

----

This statement was met with an expression of unimpressed annoyance, and the sellsword simply turned back and returned to the fire, adding the torch to the vigorous blaze already going. For a moment it seemed as if the witch's presence was not even going to be further acknowledged, but finally, they motioned for her to sit, and pulled out a pair of hardtack biscuits and tossed one to her. "I'm on a rather serious sort of journey," came the next statement, after a long pause. What that was, was left unspecified, but it was easy enough to guess - it was hardly as if there weren't dozens of others on this same quest. But it seemed they preferred to let her make her guesses.

In fact, it seemed the traveller was not much of one for discussion at all, instead choosing to tend the fire and idly chew on the very dry and flavorless hardtack, more out of a necessary need for some kind of sustenance than any real desire to eat the plain and unappetizing food. Around them, night had finally fallen in earnest, and in the distance other fires could be seen, here and there through the barred forest tree-trunks. Huddled around them were other seekers - everyone from royal soldiers to common peasants vying for this rare and unrivalled opportunity. Some were out there this night in pursuit of the fortune that awaited the successful ones, others out of a sense of duty or under command of another. Others were out for fame or glory. Some were just taking this chance to leave on an excuse, though they never intended to return.

Looking back to the witch, her newfound and stoic companion seemed to survey her a moment, taking in the small-statured spellcaster's robes and plaited hair and the strange, gilded eyes that seemed at once suited and yet strange in her human face. Whether or not the other had any thoughts on Mela's appearance, they didn't say, only moved to bank the fire a bit to keep it from getting too high, and finally comment, "I don't care if you follow me, but don't get in my way. Understood?"