Ivan cringed back as another mud creature appeared. He couldn't help but think that it was the mud creature from before, perhaps... they were following them. They weren't supposed to leave. Ivan tightened his grip on Raven and tried to think of something else. He thought about wanting to go home, the still existing ache in his lungs... and his bow. 
Ivan fought the urge to protest and beg to be taken back to Regina's place for his bow. The bow had belonged to his father, and if he ever made it back home, he wanted to be able to return it. Besides, that was the bow he'd learned to shoot with. He didn't know if he could just as easily use another bow. A light hunting bow was about right for him, but most bows were larger and heavier, likely too much for someone so young. 
He kept fidgeting around in Raven's arms, as if trying to find a more comfortable position, but he never seemed to. He just kept tossing and squirming like an anxious animal. Raven's pace was a bit fast, and Ivan kept getting jostled around. He was beyond grateful when the man slowed down to preserve energy. 
For a brief moment, he thought about how suspicious it was for Raven to just take him and leave without consulting any of the other caravan members. Was Raven being entirely trustworthy, or did the situation just go from bad to worse to... whatever comes after worse but before worst?