While not entirely sure where his grandpa had come from, Warden was grateful that he appeared. He eased the pack from the boy's back, helping carry it the rest of the way to the wagon. Warden panted, stretching, finally relieved from the weight as the pack was loaded onto the cart. Holy heck, why was it so heavy? "What did mom pack, rocks?" He peered into the wagon, looking at all the things that had been packed. There were so many things, this couldn't be practical.
"I wish I could go fight with everyone else." The boy grumped, scowling softly. He wanted to be in on the action, he wanted to be fighting the Raiders with his aunts and uncles. Mom had already said that if he came down, he'd need to stay in camp with the healers. That wasn't an answer he'd liked, but someone had to keep his mom safe-- he'd do it. Still, that doesn't mean he's happy about not being big enough or old enough to be on the field. Warden wants to fight.
