Gerald looked at the bird. Having seen so few in general, his first instinct was to assume that it was the same large crow that he'd seen in the city a few days ago. And also, there was something to the bird that belied the impression of wild, impersonal fowl. Something clever in the tilt of the head and the shine of black eyes. For a long minute Gerald looked over the bird; took its measure.
Of course, the bird was not nearly as interesting as the man who followed. Silver eyes looked upward. He supposed that he should have been surprised, but. Orha had been in possession of a sharpened, wooden spear at their last meeting, so it was not a grand leap of logic to think that the tent was also his craftsmanship. Not to mention that its isolated placement likewise suited the long-eared man.
"Hello, Orha Duren," Gerald said, his voice thick honey.