"Wise child." He sighs windily, but he's hardly even being sarcastic - she is quite right on that account. The solutions to their larger problems, this mystery they've been thrust into, is far beyond their grasp. At the moment, they're limited to resolving lesser problems: don't starve, don't pitch headlong off a cliff, don't get your throat cut by Dendarii hillmen. Don't freeze to death. He suppresses another shudder - even this exertion isn't sufficient to keep him warm. He does hope the girl is doing all right...

"We've not exchanged names, have we?" he asks. "Byerly. Vorrutyer, obviously - eugh, how loathsome, that I introduced myself as Vorrutyer before I introduced myself as By. I consider myself an individual, rather than a representative of my family. Not a Vorish trait, but I'm not a Vorish Vor." He sweeps a half-bow, stumbles theatrically, rights himself, hiccups, and says, "Who are you?"