Looking towards the wall as the girl spoke he eventually turned back to her, having remained silent for most of the time. “Daemons.” He eventually said, one simple words. “They are called daemons.” Refusing the offered hand he stood up on his own. “And I’m not from the north.” He left that sentence at that and then turned, walking along behind her silently until he got to the bridge and stopped. For the longest time he looked at the bridge and then eventually back up at her. “I… I can’t…” The boy said uncertainly, stepping backwards.

“I know it doesn’t make sense to you but I can’t.” He didn’t know what he was thinking, almost accepting her help. He didn’t need her help. He didn’t need any help. The wound would heal and he could take care of himself. She probably wouldn’t let him go back to the wall on his own right now, but he could sneak off later. Taking a few steps backwards he sat down, as if stubbornly displaying he wasn’t going to follow her. Although then a new thought occurred to him. He’d probably said too much. He’d corrected her out of habit. He should have kept his mouth shut.