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His lips made a very thin line for a moment, his shoulders straitening and becoming as tense and taught as his bowstring. He moved back and pressed his back against a tree, half drawing his bow so he might at least keep look out. It kept him still and quiet if nothing else, though it left his riding beast somewhere unknown, though it at least wasn’t making tense conversation.

He worried at the edge of his lip, listening intently despite the bitter wind that would turn a nervous habit into painful splits in the skin. His hand twitched but he didn’t move more than that as he watched a Brachenbau dart by overhead, giving the hunter’s bird a wide birth. It had been the young noble’s original quarry but in the interest of both their safety and saving his arrows he refrained.

A small nod, and a glance around before he even started out towards where he had left his beast, he even followed his own foot prints back, there was a small cut in the sole of one boot that set his feet apart from any Ever had made, perhaps a little too precise not to have been deliberate on someone’s part. He returned, leading the beast and brushing a hand over the nose to keep it calm, it would on occasion jerk at the rains in his hand, nosing into his glove and flicking thick lips at his coat sleeve questing for something tasty to have. It’s ears flicked forward and then back at the blood but it did not bolt, simply shifted from foot to foot flexing its toes, unable to completely overcome the instinct towards discomfort around the smell of blood, but it was well trained for all that.

The rains made small clink sounds despite his best efforts to stay quiet, but that was more the bridal than any excessive ornamentation. In fact the oddest and least practical thing attached to the saddle was a rather surprising size coil of cording and another of wire.

The young man paused only to fetch his own far smaller kill and hang it from a loop on his belt. A poor stew but for him at least it’d be flavored with having survived the encounter with the bhar. He helped the hunter load the saddle with a few glances after his bird, he’d not seen anyone use a bird to ‘pair up’ before, he rather wanted a wulfkind himself but had never had the heart to pursue one. There was a good chance that as a pup it would destroy his work area and that would be catastrophic for him and the ‘hound’.

He fetched rope from a saddle bag to help them secure the large kill to the saddle though he did keep looking around to hear if there was another bhar.

“I craft instruments.” He said by way of answer, that alone meant he wasn’t heading too deep onto the town, it wouldn’t be outrageous to see someone with off color something there, but you might assuredly see more open stares there. Possibly less people trying to ward off the evil eye if only because it would likely be considered rude, and if you passed a shop people.

“But I’ll take this where ever you need it, it’s your kill.” He said seriously and then hesitated. “I can buy you a hot supper if you’d like. He sounded like he wasn’t sure if the offer would offend, or if he SHOULD offer, either because you were a hunter or the color of your hair. He gave a flicker of a frown that vanished almost as completely from his face as though he were wearing the mask of a high noble; the tension remained though all the same.

“I suppose they’d react the same as anyone does. Everyone should respect the hunters for being bold enough to do this so consistently…and to venture as far as you do. But people will always fear what comes out of the forest.”

It was perhaps the most discrete way he could say ‘people will stare because you are probably touched or soon will be, even though we depend on you and yours for meat and skins.’ That he could have managed.

The young noble blinked at him, once, twice, showing no sign of comprehension about what kind of reputation would raise questions about riding behind someone. “Well…it’s…cold and I have a fur cloak because I could afford to keep the skin after we killed it…It’s longer than yours, I suppose they’d think you were staying warmer?” He looked baffled all the same.

“Are you a bad rider?” He blinked. Clearly he was saying something that bordered on laughable but he wasn’t clear on what exactly. “I could strap you on so you didn’t fall off, that could help?” He blinked.

“Thank you, but I can hoist myself.” He said with something between pride and an edge of offence that it might be considered he could use it, more or less a need to prove he was capable, for better or worse it was likely part of what contributed to him being out here.

He hesitated a moment as though he were considering if the beast would complain at the added weight between the bhar and himself but he did manage to get into the saddle quite efficiently. He looked suddenly embarrassed; maybe he’d finally realized what you were implying when you suggested you had a reputation. But no…

“I haven’t asked your name sir.”

“It’s polite!” He protested to the laughter and the dismissal of the title. It really wasn’t that funny, he was quite sure it didn’t deserve quite –that- level of a belly laugh. He opted to consider it a good thing that the general hostility wasn’t there any longer, even if he was riding beside a hunter and all their strange ways.

“Am I expected to ask?” he said carefully. “It just seems off to call you ‘hunter’, if my father asks what came about today I can hardly say ‘a hunter who’s name I wasn’t curious enough to ask for, shot a bhar that was charging me.”