[Gregor watches the girl, noting that she came prepared, and wincing slightly as she...well, she could be Vor, all right. Prepared, and thinking of someone she perhaps spent little time with. Or a relative she shared little with. One who haunts her nevertheless.
At her look, he stoops and gathers some dry kindling he'd managed to...create, really, by keeping damp kindling under shelter all day. He collects it in one hand, then picks up a few pieces of cinnamon bark and holds them out to her wordlessly. It's all he has left of the makings of his own offerings.]
action:
At her look, he stoops and gathers some dry kindling he'd managed to...create, really, by keeping damp kindling under shelter all day. He collects it in one hand, then picks up a few pieces of cinnamon bark and holds them out to her wordlessly. It's all he has left of the makings of his own offerings.]