For a moment, he wondered if they even had to think about Blackthorne. Would it not be easier, he thought, for the two of them to simply ignore him? It wasn't their duty to stop him from sowing the seeds of discord. But she wanted to find somebody. And despite his thoughts otherwise, he knew her wants would be able to defeat his heisitancy. Like her, he was a coward in his own right. He wasn't a fighter like his mother or a schemer like his father - he was simply Enoch. He was born with a dead eye, a quiet voice and a desire for simplicity.

But for now they didn't have to look for anybody. For now, he was able to pretend that she had come here willingly, that her fear was simply misplaced. He got to pretend that they had come here together. Ah, and best of all, he was able to show her some place safe, some place she could be herself.

He noticed the slight embarassment but it only brought about the smallest grin from him; he was much the same. The idea of being close to another in such a way made him feel just as embarassed. But he put it aside and stepped forward, beckoned her to his side, before he loped forward and through the brushland of Glorall; in the distance, the gulls cried out and the waves could be heard tumbling against stone and sand. He moved them far away from the borders of Iromar and towards the coast - towards the island that lay across the channel. The island. Their island? Her island. Zafira's Island.

"Do you like the trees?" They provided safety, he thought, from storms and others; they could hide away in the underbrush. But then he turned and lead her down a wellworn path to the dunes that rose up and sloped down suddenly towards the shoreline. He paused at their peeks and invited her to his side once more. "Do you like the ocean?" Whatever she liked, he'd make it hers. If he could keep her some place safe, that'd be good.