Look For A Place To Hide

Aranea admitted that she wouldn't have minded getting dirty and Sparhawk chuckled. "Ah, but I would. Too pretty to be covered in dirt." He was a gentleman. He couldn't ask a lady to get all mucky now could he? Besides, he'd extracted the clay quickly enough. Help hadn't been necessary.

Once out of the cave, he had made sure that Aranea exited as well before entering the water. The water ran cloudy with blue clay as he washed it away from his thick legs. A wordless little hum rumbled in his chest as he cleaned the muck from his fur. A tune was never far from the man. He was either humming, singing, talking or sleeping.

Words brought his ears swiveling towards the woman and he released a laugh. "No, no. From far away over the snow and ice." Deciding that he was clean, Sparhawk leaped upon the same flat rock that he and Poem had dried upon the day before. Here he would repeat the process of letting the sun dry his big, striped frame.

"And you, Miss Aranea? You from here or somewhere else?" He attempted to draw get into conversation. She seemed rather sad, though he didn't know why. It would be rude to ask, so he would simply try to spread his happiness to her.