Radley whirled about with terrifying speed, snatching up his staff from its resting place against a rock, and settling back into a defensive stance, staff poised, in a single fluid motion. There was a brief moment of confusion, before his brain caught up and worked out where the voice had come from. Up. The rabbits had been sizzling in their fats upon his iron skillet over the fire, and Radley was too travel-worn to have kept his guard up and consequently he was caught unawares. 

He gazed up at the branch of the tree, on which sat a slender man with hair the colour of slate. Radley shielded his eyes with one hand; he had taken off his hat and his raven-wing locks writhed in the slight breeze. The free hand lowered the tip of the staff to the ground as Radley had recovered from the initial shock, and saw that this man meant no harm, announcing his presence in the way he had. The man was likely just another fellow traveller, and hungry, judging from his offer to buy a rabbit. Still, it was rather odd that he perched himself on the branch of a tree, like some wood-elf or forest nymph from stories and song. 

Yet, even with his staff lowered, Radley still kept it in his hands; whilst he didn’t suspect anything of ill ilk from the man, he didn’t put it past a cunning thief. Starter Town was a good place, and a fine city, but there is as price to be paid for all good places, and a price all good places have to pay. No small amount of wealth flowed through the city, and that attracted covetous and greedy eyes, some with hearts black to match. 

“Spare your coin,” Radley began, the words coming painfully, and somewhat alien, from his chapped, unused lips. “I wish only for you to pay me in good company and conversation after a long and hard journey, that I might find some comfort on the road, and perhaps even a new friend.”

He gestured with his head, pointing it towards the fire, before he returned to sit on his rock, shaking the skillet, to which the flowing juices hissed in response. It was a small price to pay for a creature comfort such as a guest; the meat was not that expensive, and he could buy plenty more from the city, both rations and good meals. The pelts on the other hand… the pristine white fur of his Mountain Rabbits, sometimes called Hill Hare by the Southerners, was highly sought after for gloves boots, and various other such fashion accessories, as the coat was thick and soft, and a white coat was rare among the species, and therefore valuable.

Lifting the skillet away from the heat, Radley lifted a whole Rabbit with a gloved hand and offered it in the direction of the newcomer with an outstretched hand. It would no doubt be hot, but food was food, and it would cool down quickly enough.

“Sorry, I don’t carry much in the way of plates,” Radley explained; he had never really needed them, as he always used the skillet and ate his food straight from it, “I hope that doesn’t stop you from giving me your name.”