Almost everything in Estelle told her to get on her feet again and keep running. [i]The fire is a death sentence. That is, if he doesn't kill me himself first. Why didn't he give his name? I can't trust him.[/i] And yet... the smell of a cooked fish was like a siren's call. Once he'd lowered his axe, the stranger's mannerisms were gentle enough. [i]If I'm going to die, might as well die with a full belly.[/i]

She took her hand away from her sword hilt, cautiously plucking the hunk of fish that was offered to her. "...Thank you," she said at last, sampling the bit of pike. Maybe she was just starving, but it was better than any fish she could remember. Slowly, she got back up and made her way to the nearby running water, keeping the stranger in sight. She knelt down, undoing her bracers and pulling off her gloves, tucking them beneath her sword belt.

The water was cool as she dipped her hands into it, and Estelle briefly worked to clean the mud from her face and hair. "My name is Estelle," she offered, wondering if perhaps being the first to do so would prompt the man to return the favor. "I'm... well I suppose I'm lost in this forest too." She still didn't know what to say to strangers. She was plainly highborn by her accent, so there was no hiding that, but it seemed ill-advised to tell others she was being pursued. Hunted. It invited others to either abandon her to save their own skins, or otherwise try to offer her up to the hunters.

There was no making herself look respectable in the current conditions, but once she was done with the stream she stood tall all the same, finding some measure of composure. She joined the stranger at the fire.

"There are... bandits in this forest, no? And worse? Is a fire not a risk?"