As strong as Noah was and could be, he was also very fragile and sensitive to change. His system was easily shocked. He rode on waves of tension until they grew higher and higher. He was a proud predator, so instead of falling underneath the shock he lashed out at it, thinking it was a defense in order to survive an encounter. Elann was his first instance in having to juggle that mindless retaliation, so he was very much unpracticed. Having someone be the one to take a step back to cool the situation could aid him in finding a balance in these social situations he was very unused to.

Noah hummed in thought as he considered her questions. He took in the distance of the mountains and thought on how many days had passed since them initially setting out. This caravan was a good one, lead by a driver who either knew the path well or had some business in Zeltiva. They were driving the horses well, and the bandit attack put a little damper in pepping step.

“It would take me about a day,” he said, bringing his hand up to her hair as she huddled in on him, the wind renewed. “For the caravan, I'd say four days until we reach the outpost, one more day to get through the mountains and into the city, give or take a day or some hours.”

Moving his fingers through her hair only further released the scent the henna left on her strands. He wondered how long the smell would last, it not being something he was completely fond of. He could tell from the smell and from the reddish hue it was the same substance she used on her hands the day of their wedding. It stained her skin for several days afterwards.

“Why'd you color your hair?” he wondered, something he hadn't had the chance to ask. “It's dark and... red.”