The sort of folk 'round here

Álarr picked up a piece of antler and used the base to mash up the root as his pack mate drew closer to the fire. The gray pelted man introduced himself as Sanctus Bellator, one of Avalon's hunters. Álarr set the antler aside. "Nice to meet you." He poured a little water over the root mash and scooted it close to the fire, listening as Sanctus explained that he had been working on building fences for the animals before asking Álarr about his injury.

Álarr lifted up his broken paw and thought for a moment before tucking it next to his chest. "Well, during the strange events of summer I had a run in with a spirit. When I fled I fell and broke my paw." He shook his head, still some what in disbelief, but he had no way to really explain what he'd experience, no matter how much he tried. He looked to Sanctus. Would the man think him crazy?