Rhyke put on his straw hat, shouldering his bow over his back and putting the few belongings he and Ciss had in the pack he carried. Most of his clothing was handmade with straw and furrs, though several wool parcels were sticking out of the bottom of his pack. He waited for everyone to get off of the boat as he usually had to deal with problems involving his companion. Ciss was well behaved, eyes gleaming as she was happy to finally be on solid ground again. Rhyke had to do all he could to tell her not to run. After walking over the plank, Rhyke would stand aside Ciss until he was addressed by the guard. He took note of what they were armed with and how old the men looked. He was used to men giving him trouble over Ciss or over his bow. Several times in the past he had been called a thief, however he claimed that a bow thief would not know how to make arrows. 
“Rhyke.” He spoke his name just loud enough for it to be heard. “Rhyke Vulbit.”