“Fine,” he conceded. “I might need thine help finding another way around on the way back.” He shifted his weight and reaffixed the clasps of his cloak, putting his helmet back on and hood up. “Come.” He turned back down the path and continued to the farm. Shorttail let out a sigh of relief as he followed after the human. Handy grumbled under his breath, his mood thoroughly in the gutter now. The pair came upon the old farmstead as the tree thinned. Young saplings encroached past the decaying fenceposts, long neglected over the years. 