"I have never once in my life sold out a Runner. Best way to get yourself banned from all the towns is to piss off a Runner. My uncle did it once, died of starvation, neglect, and a broken heart." He grinned briefly, but took the pin and inspected it with mild surprise. "River's one of you? Cripes, woman. That guy hates me... but I'll do it." He snatched the pin up in his hand and tucked the knife back into his belt, then glanced at the hatchet and bow that Carson still held. "Say, er... do you mind if I keep those? Dangerous times, and all that. Plus, I'm on your side, so... pretty please?"<br/><br/>The Strider scowled, but held the weapons back out. "Just understand one thing, Maxim," he said softly, dangerously, as the boy took the bow back. "If you ever fire another arrow at me, you will not exist within ten minutes of having fired it. We clear?"<br/><br/>The thief swallowed heavily and nodded. He glanced at Malia. "Geesh, you sure do make the sweetest sort of friends." He tucked the bow across his back and hung the quiver off his belt, then planted his hands on his hips and puffed out his narrow chest. "Alright, you two! I know the fate of civilization rests on my deeds! I will not rest until I reach Aurora and tell sour ol' Riv Willie what's what. Count on me!" He saluted sharply, then turned to run into the woods. A few seconds later he'd found another snare, and Carson had to go cut him loose once more. He left the rest of the traps. Who knew when a Huntsman would come back through?<br/><br/>He returned to her and reached out to draw her in close. "Can you get back to town alone? I've got a form of transport we can use but I left it fifteen minutes outside of town so it wouldn't scare anyone. I'll meet you on the road just outside the gate with it."