He'd trailed Tenshi down the mountain and out across the Steppe mostly because he wanted to dodge whatever chore his father would assign next. Erik was sick of the sheep. He was sick of them, and it should be that Thrall boy who fed them and raked their pen. It should be him, or one of those strange, lurking yearlings. Any of them. It should be them, not Erik. All of this, with the wound that was still fighting to heal? No, it certainly wasn't Erik's fault. It wasn't Erik, who'd been roughhousing with his siblings. Certainly he didn't know who'd popped so many stitches.
Though Erik walks around with a chip on his shoulder, he feels entitled to it. That, and he never actually complained. He doesn't bitch or moan, though the look on his face and the way he goes about the work is telling. Anyway, it's in an effort to avoid tending to the sheep that Erik follows Tenshi down the mountain and across the Steppe. They seem to be crossing... hm. His brow furrowed, though he trotted along after her. A bit of a grumble formed in his throat, though the sound was ragged around the edges. What were they doing, anyway? Erik's gaze lands squarely on Tenshi's face, expression rather serious. She was smiling, but... oh. Okay, that's what they're doing.
His gaze turns to the land around him, scanning it. Marking the shape of the stones nearest to the border, mapping an exit as they ventured farther. If they needed to turn back at any point, Erik was confident he'd be able to lead the way. That was his job, self-assigned as it was. Hell, whatever made him feel important.
"Speech"
