There is a ginger cat, slinking between Caleb's ankles then around the log into the shadow as Caleb shifts further. There is room, though it is not a particular comfortable seat.
The mud and cold have not bothered Caleb. Miserable traveling conditions are so familiar as to be unremarkable, apart from the absence of his usual choice in companions. In spite of knowing that one cannot operate alone, even in this magic-drenched place, the urge to stand and cede the log entirely comes and goes.
Still, he closes the spell book over one finger. Would anyone be able to read it's contents? Hard to say. He is not interested in risking it.
"I heard they are breaking into one of the wine casks," is posed cautiously; he does not have the impression that Michael Ralston is the type for roistering with a cup of rich wine. "If you are interested."
no subject
The mud and cold have not bothered Caleb. Miserable traveling conditions are so familiar as to be unremarkable, apart from the absence of his usual choice in companions. In spite of knowing that one cannot operate alone, even in this magic-drenched place, the urge to stand and cede the log entirely comes and goes.
Still, he closes the spell book over one finger. Would anyone be able to read it's contents? Hard to say. He is not interested in risking it.
"I heard they are breaking into one of the wine casks," is posed cautiously; he does not have the impression that Michael Ralston is the type for roistering with a cup of rich wine. "If you are interested."
Interested in getting up off his log.