Grandfather Trafalgar waited patiently for Miloh to make his decision as the shipwrecked child looked around in consideration of what to do next. A touch of amusement entered the old man's smile as the boy's stomach demanded attention. But the smile vanished in an instant when Miloh doubled over from a bout of hunger pains. Given the boy's sudden arrival, Grandfather Trafalgar had lacked sufficient provisions for more than one person. As a result, they had been traveling on half rations up to this point. And while the Ćororo elder was used to such measures, his young companion was not.

Grandfather Trafalgar lifted a hand to reach out and opened his mouth to ask Miloh if he was alright, but he pulled back at the last moment and closed his mouth. One of the first things Grandfather Trafalgar had learned about Miloh was that he had a short temper, and nothing made it flare up quite like the implication that he was being looked down upon. Not wanting to upset the lad any further, the old man restrained his concern and continued waiting for a response.

"Food. Yeah, food sounds good right about now," Miloh said.

"I cannot recall a time when food did not sound good." Grandfather Trafalgar said with an approving nod and an eager smile. The old Ćororo rose to his feet and looked around. "So the only question worth asking now would be... which way is the best food?" Grandfather Trafalgar turned northwards and sniffed the air in that direction. "...Not that way." He spun around then to face the south and took in the scent of the air from that direction. "Hmmm... Maybe." He turned then to the east, sniffed once, then immediately covered his nose. "Definitely not!" Finally, he turned to the west, sniffed the air tentatively at first, then began sniffing with increasing interest. "Well that does smell promising." He said at last before turning back to Miloh. "I think I'm onto something good. This way." With a beckoning gesture, the old man set off in the direction of the promising scent.