As he approached the encampment they setup the night before, Karras pulled up the worn-out gray mask that was attached within the lower half of his hood over his the lower half of his mouth. It hid away his mouth and nose but didn't hinder his breathing through the gray cloth. Still not at ease with revealing to others more or less suspicious of the sight of him already. He didn't bother to speak up about anything as he walked past people dissembling their tents and rolling up their bedrolls. A heard a few of the militia group members complain about having to sleep on the ground as they loaded up the equipment onto the cargo wagons. 

When he was nearing the smell of lingering food he paused his movement and eyed the irrepressible leader, Martin. Karras has become indebted with weathered man from saving his life, also as well indebted to others in with the party that he'd come to know some, and offering him a chance within his ever growing ranks. Though at the same while he felt a rather [i]familiar yet odd sense[/i] from him. It was rather confusing for Karras, he consider the harden to be akin to himself, but he wiped that conclusion from his thought. How could he be something so hideous in the eyes of those that spited what he was, those that fought against his kind, but the odd sensation never left him when he was around Martin, but he never dared voice the matter, even with speaking so little as he did.

Karras found him self staring at the man for again. He glided hand through the air slowly, giving Martin the sign that the path was clear up head. He then slightly nodded to him and found himself seated within the back of the wagon.