Ocean of Grass

Those clouds were starting to look a bit more ominous in Hyperion's uneducated opinion. He didn't particularly want to get caught in the rain, especially this time of year when hail was a very really possibility. The wet he could handle, but getting thumped with eyeball sized ice balls sounded about as appealing as going back into the Briar and getting his nethers whipped with thorns. It was quite kind of Shilah to offer to take him back; cheekily Hyperion couldn't help but wonder what Percy had done to him to instill the man with such charity. "Sounds like a good plan to me. Since you have an idea of where to go, I'll follow your lead." Absently he wondered if Shilah's guidance was really free, but that seemed like the sort of thing to deal with if it came up later. Hyperion, for one, was happy to pay his way. He possessed nothing, but he had other ways of showing his gratitude.

"The name's Hyperion and it's a pleasure to meet you, Shilah," he said as he stepped over to his new guide. The grass of the prairie was very tall; so tall that Hyperion suspected once they stepped inside all he'd be able to see of Shilah if he (Hyperion) stretched was the tips of his ears. The thought amused him and he nearly made a joke about it, but Svala's announcement that she was leaving them chased the thought away. To her, he said, "Good luck, Svala, I hope you make it before the rain. Your company was most welcome."