my lungs are fresh & yours to keep

Dread couldn't help but move towards the source of the sound. While unwilling to give up his search for the bark entirely, he had to be curious about whatever was... whatever else was out here. Whoever else was out here. Strange as the voice in the willows was, Dread wanted to know that he wasn't in danger out here alone. With confident, curious steps over the marshy ground, he brought himself closer. Head tilting to one side and then the other, peering through the hanging branches of the willows.

The boy... lied? Lied about what he said? Dread was still well and properly confused. Maybe he was mentally unwell? That could always be it... or something else. Could be nefarious, but Dread wasn't even sure about that one. The young prince squinted at the stranger, trying to figure out exactly what to make of him. Big guy? What the hell was that about? When he finally answered, his tone was extremely careful neutrality. He was trying to get some sort of read on the other boy, even if it was a difficult thing to sort out. "I'm collecting herbs for my pack," it's a simple enough explanation. The words were spoken with clarity and measure, and he watched carefully for a reaction.

"What pack are you from?" It wasn't Ashen, and it wasn't the Hallows. Those were two things that Dread could say for certain, as he'd never seen or smelled anything like this boy. A stranger. Though these were not his woods, Dread felt like he should know these things.

"Dread Fatalis"