Cyril nods at that and concedes the point. He still feels pretty energic though, so when they head out he's able to keep up much better than he had been. The day goes by normally, with their travels keeping the same normal pace. They talk about nothing in particular but Cyril still can't help but enjoy being with Fenris, even more so now that he's certain he's real.

When they stop to set up camp, Cyril starts gathering materials around them. "With my Clan I would make traps that would catch small animals. I could try to make one again," he explains. "I.. I might be out of practice though. It has been eight years."

He still wants to find a way to contribute and he isn't sure he fully trusts himself with a bow yet. All of the muscles he had built up in his arms had faded from the strength of an archer to the soft, lightly muscled tone that the Magister had preferred. He doesn't think he could aim or be effective at all, but he can try to remember how to capture food.

The trap making idea is a way to bring something to Fernis that isn't gold made in a way he disagrees with.