"I don't think any of us are used to it," he grumbles. He looks up at her again, that pesky concern still worming its way in. He's irritated, sure, but not at her.

"You can rest here until you know where you're going," he offers brusquely, making room on his overturned log. "There's some stew left over that I'd rather not leave sit overnight."

And he'll pass a bowl over if she seems at all receptive.