He wandered into the open door to the barn, looking back over his shoulder again for the Raven, having noticed bare feet.
”Watch for nails.”
Because wandering around boots and wandering around in bare feet gave vastly different experiences of the barn floor, and while Geirmarr’s steps were already carefully placed, he knew what he was looking for. An exploring Raven may not be so lucky.
There is a moment of searching before an ‘ah’ of discovery, followed by a muttered string in some sort of ancient Slavic – No, English wasn’t Geirmarr’s first language, that much should be quite obvious, but he tends to get away with not having too overly much of an accent. Of course, the wolf doesn’t say much really at all.
The cooler door is fought with for a moment before he finds the locking mechanism. It takes him a moment further to figure it out, and finally he gets it open – just one of those things he needed to figure out for himself. The apples are found – two for each horse, carefully piled into his shirt – turned – impromptu basket. The cooler is then locked again and he makes his way back to the Raven.