Nathe let her bind his hands, staying quiet as she spoke. When he heard the snap of the twig, he offered a small nod. "Then, I guess you should present me," he suggested, already expecting the rough treatment from the soldiers. Despite her kindness, the woman had a clear disdain for his kind. He couldn't rightly blame her. The drow were uncouth and violent compared to the isolationists in the forest. If what the elder said was true, they abhorred violence, but would be rather fierce if their livelihood was threatened. His presence threatened that, he was sure.

Bowing his head, he let her lead him forward, stumbling slightly from his wound, unable to put his full weight on his right leg. He looked the proper prisoner, despite it being his plan. He needed it to be believable. He didn't want suspicion cast upon the only soul who showed him any sort of kindness.