Galt had found a comfortable spot, and the highbacked chairs that were cluttered around the hearth ironically serving a good barrier in which to lean against. The blankets were soft and warm, and Galt had to tell himself not to think how inviting Silke was as well. He knew circumstances were one thing, but he still felt like he did not belong. Here in this high class house in the middle of the woods, a lowly thief and a pretty highborne maiden. He sat upright unconsciously, not wanting to get too comfortable, even if that was very hard considering the fire and the blanket. Her thanks warmed him more than either, however, and he gave her a smile. 

Alistair. He had never heard of him before. Losing siblings wasn't an uncommon occurrence when one grew up poor, and so he assumed that's what happened. Galt's parent's were lucky, in a fashion. None of their children had died in their early years. If one was dead now, Galt didn't know. He hadn't seen either in years. Thinking now, he wasn't sure he would even know where to look if he found he wanted to see them again. The thought did not make him sad, but gave him a certain bittersweet melancholy he did not quite know what to do with. Silke's story brought him back to reality, and he tried to imagine her as a little girl running into the cabin, chased by her brothers and laughing without a care. 

"I have a brother and a sister." He admitted, looking into the fire, his dark eyes alight from the reflection. "Gregon's the oldest. Always thought he knew best. We used to wrestle and even make up stories together. And Mary is my younger sister. She was shy when she was young, but she got real mouthy as she grew up." He said with a smile that could have been a very soft smirk. It was clear he said it out of familial love rather than describing a talkative woman in any demeaning way. It sounded like something he would have told her because they were so close, or at least had been. "I haven't seen either for about twelve years. Our family couldn't pay for the home we lived in anymore, and one day we were evicted. The men that came for us took me away." 

He glanced at Silke, and then got embarrassed at his choice of words. "Just to scare my parents, I think. But I escaped and made my way into the streets. It was stupid. I would have been back home in a week if I had sat quiet. I spent about five years alone before I found my folks again, but by that time my brother had moved out and my sister was getting married to some baker out in Heathsford. I didn't stay long, and I couldn't anyway. They were getting by well and couldn't afford another mouth, even if my ma cried when she saw me, and my dad probably did when I left. But I visited them when I could. Last I saw them was about half a year ago, but not my siblings. They're off doing Gods know what...." 

He cleared his throat and was almost afraid to meet Silke's eyes. It was clear he took it all matter-of-fact, the damage so long ago it was a dull, familiar feeling. Even were he to find out one of his family had passed last he saw them, he probably wouldn't truly mourn until he came back for the funeral, and that was assuming he would even hear about it. "Sorry, I don't mean to bring the mood down. I did have a best friend. Stendan. He ran a schemes with me for years. I bet I could find him again, but ever since this whole...everything, it's not been at the front of my head, you know?"