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Ruelash grunted. He'd had to lay down, which wasn't his idea of 'good' but he'd rather lay down here than in the middle of some random pile of mud. He was sure not even 'chi herself knew what was in that crud. After a moment, he realized that maybe he needed to give a more clear answer than his usual not-unfriendly grunts – communication was a skill he was learning, thanks in large part to Iroia, and he wasn't terrible at it.

Just gruff.

“Aye. Sure.” he said looking away, around the camp itself. He certainly didn't want anything to get 'bad' and fall off. Those bandits weren't worth the mark it would leave.

It was a camp. That was all he could really say about it.

He turned back to her abruptly at the mention of food, surprised – perhaps because he wouldn't have offered that himself. Certainly he wouldn't have offered it so pleasantly. “Uh.” he said, thinking (which was not his strong suit) “Food'd be good. Aye...” he frowned at her, regarding her with his intense yellow eyes. “Who were ye, again?”

Neska.
That was an easy enough name to remember. It was the other one, Voller-whatever, that Ruelash wasn't sure he would manage. Then again, it was Neska who was helping him anyway, so he didn't really have to, did he?

He took the bread and meat with a grateful grunt and – to his surprise – devoured it hungrily. He hadn't realized how hungry he was through the exhaustion and the various aches and bruises that now covered him. He rarely had bread – meat and scrounged vegetation was more his usual fare – so the fluffy, grainy, thick and hard stuff was actually sort of a treat for him.

He enjoyed his meal a little more because of it, and it took him a while to realize she had asked a question. “Huh?” he exclaimed, blinking at her for a moment before comprehension dawned. Oh. Yeah. Couldn't get at the wounds with cloth in the way.

Ruelash was used to being clothed. In Zena, especially in the harsh winter blizzards, a part exposed was a part lost. Even though he often went with ears and face uncovered, that was a risk in itself and sometimes, when out in that sort of weather, he covered up tremendously. The habit of being clothed carried over even here, where any part that was covered broiled in the hellish heat. It just felt strange. Plus, clothes were armor.

Ruelash, however, was no stranger to stripping down to deal with the heat. And, in the interests of getting his injuries taken care of – and maybe more bread and meat (and maybe, he thought hopefully, the sweet, sticky stuff called honey?)...

”Oh, ya. Sure.” he said. The outer coat was easy enough to shrug off, with only a little pain as it went over his shoulders. The shirt was harder – it clung to him, caked with blood and mud and sweat. He fumbled with it for an aching, painful bit before he managed to drag it over his head. He tossed it to the ground in exasperation, his chest bared. ”That work for ya?” he asked, completely unabashed, unashamed, and unphased by his sudden bare-ness. Less than he'd thought he'd be, actually – which surprised him.

Huh he mused briefly, Maybe I'm getting' used to this place.

”Yeh.” he said, ”I'd like more of that bread. An' berries.” Those were good stuff. He wondered, briefly, what the Alkidike got out of helping him, but decided that he didn't entirely care. She was giving him stuff, and he was taking stuff, and she was patching him up besides. Not much more to care about than that.

He sat back, relaxed and, after a moment of inactivity, stared at her with his insolent yellow eyes. She had her things – the bandages, the water, all the stuff she'd need to heal him. So, what was taking her so long? ”So could ya do the bandaging?” he asked gruffly, ”So I can get me bread and berries?”

”Huh?” Ruelash didn't manage to catch the girl's soft whisper, ”What did ye say?” He leaned back and let her clean his wounds, grimacing as it stung painfully. Where he was from should have been obvious from his colors, but he answered anyway, gritting his teeth against the pain.

”Zena.” he said, ”I'm from Zena. Th' tundra. It's...” he hissed in pain, ”It's real cold there.”

”Cold is... cold.” he explained, ”It, uh...” He found himself at a loss to describe something that he'd felt his whole life, ”It's kind of... biting. I don't know.” He took his shirt back... but didn't bother putting it on. He felt naked and uncomfortable, but it was hot, and it had felt good to get that shirt off.

Not used to other people... he thought he might know what she meant. He actually didn't, but there was no way he could have known that it was men she didn't know about. He didn't know about men very much either, to be honest.

He reached for the bread and berries and began to stuff his face – he was hungry. ”Didn't know there was bread here.” he commented, off hand, ”So uh...” he looked over at her, not sure what else to say, ”You sure you're not hurt?” he asked.

”Yeah. Bites. It's sharp an' it stings the skin.” It really was the best description he could think of. ”Sure it's alive. Weather moves and changes, don't it? Different from one day to the next?” Not that he'd actually thought about it in those exact terms before, but now that he did... he agreed. ”The tundra has a mind o' it's own. So does the jungle.” though he was pretty sure that Bergchi wasn't involved in Jahuar. ”And the Tale, and Sauti too. They do what they want t' do and you gotta respect that, otherwise, you'll be dead.” he said it flatly, not realizing that such a statement could upset her. It didn't upset him. It was just fact.

She could climb trees without hurting herself? Good? ”Well, there's trees everywhere.” he said, matter of factly. If she couldn't climb them without hurting herself, then maybe she shouldn't live here.

”I'm...” he'd been about to say he was okay, but he knew better. With the option of rest on the table, that was what he chose. ”This ain't yer camp?” he asked, surprised. It had bread and berries and food and everything.

Not leaving your homeland was... sensible. If you knew a place, Ruelash figured, you didn't actually need to leave. Of course, he had left, but he'd had his reasons for it and he was going back someday. The tundra called to him. It was home.

”Nah. They're smaller, for one thing. Not as glow-y.” he said, shrugging.

Could he climb a tree? Yes and no. Not many trees worth climbing in Zena, and he was hurt... ”Maybe.” he said, standing assessingly. Yes. A definite maybe. ”How high up are we talking?” He'd have to ask her about her mother – she'd seemed strong and he wanted to fight her. For fun. Obviously...