"Or something else other than us, at any rate," she agrees. "We'll have to be careful so that doesn't happen again.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
He nodded. It was a good point. He could be hopeful and believe that they were going to meet allies, but it was just as likely that they could be dealing with an enemy. "When do you think Shyriik will return?"
"She'll let me know if she finds something. She's out until she does."
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
It wasn't exactly an answer to his question, but he took it. He was unwilling to leave Rowan again with the possibility of other pit traps and possible enemies hanging over their heads. He sat down. He'd stay here for awhile.
Removing his bag, he began to dig through the belongings he had hastily shoved in it. The majority were things meant to impress the people from other worlds that he met, but there were a few trinkets that he had kept for his enjoyment.
He pulled out an old slab of stone with Ancient writing inscribed on it. The letters had mostly worn away. While he could easily read the language most of the time, this made it incredibly difficult. One of his current projects was trying to decipher it.
As he does so, Rowan takes off her boot and feels her ankle, wincing. She landed on it oddly when she fell down the trap; she's fairly certain she sprained it.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
He briefly looked up from the slab to see Rowan checking out her ankle. The implications of the action were clear; something had happened to it. If they didn't find civilization soon, it would be far from beneficial. "Is it sprained?" he asked.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"Is there anything I can do to help?" He had lived with humans for many years, but sometimes it was easy to forget how to help them with their injuries; a sprained ankle was something that his kind never had to deal with.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
The word choice made him briefly smile; it sounded like something from one of the tabletop games he might have played back on Earth. "I'm not - I'm just an explorer."
"Then, like I said, doubtful." She pulls a length of cloth from her bag and wraps her ankle.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
As he watched her wrap her ankle, his mind wandered. What had led her to this point? He knew of her desire for revenge and justice, but what set of actions had led her to the ruins? It was an interesting thought to have.
Something was hunting out here, of this she is sure. The question is who - no, more importantly they need to find out what it's after. That comes first. Once they know that they're alerted to the possible dangers out here.
"All that is gold does not glitter, Not all those who wander are lost; The old that is strong does not wither, Deep roots are not reached by the frost."
"Is Shyriik doing okay?" he suddenly asked. He looked back up from his slab and over at her. He couldn't tell if it had been awhile since her companion had left, or if it had only been a matter of minutes.
