Lofgren was surprised. His words had done enough to calm the young man, despite his odd behavior. He doubted it was entirely forgotten, but at least for now, the young man was taking his chances.<br/><br/>“Not too much daylight left. You don't know these woods. I doubt you'd make it far at all,” Lofgren answered, and that was honest at least. He didn't intend to let him get far, even if he did decide to run.<br/><br/>“Do you have a name?” he questioned, wondering if he planned on offering it at all, or he was going to be rude when Lofgren, at least for the moment, was being hospitable. He'd offered his after all. The young man proceeded to settle and ask for something to eat. He remembered how reliant they were on others for food, most incapable of hunting on their own. On the preserve, food was plentiful, since the only thing allowed to pick off prey was the predators themselves. Naturally, the werewolves didn't enjoy competition, so it was safe to say they were the<i>only</i>large predators hunting.<br/><br/>Fresh kills were always proffered, but they smoked and dried excess sometimes. To save for later, and that would have to due for the human.<br/><br/>“Stay here,” Lofgren told him and he started out the door. He didn't bring anything with him. The human didn't register as any sort of threat, and besides, the rifle was jammed. Lofgren had never actually fired it. It'd been that way since the old hermit that used to live in the little shack lost his life after the firearm malfunctioned, and that had been years. Ammunition was there, collecting dust in a drawer. The previous occupants things had mostly been left as they were. Old pictures, identification, maps, and sentimental things. Nothing of Lofgren's, since he didn't usually spend much time actually inside. He preferred the outdoors. Overall, the whole place didn't seem very lived in, with dried, dirty pots still sitting in the sink, no running water, and musty sheets. He'd left him the pitcher of water. That had come from the stream nearby, crisp and fresh.<br/><br/>They did use the nearby outbuilding to smoke and preserve meat. There they could salt and dry what they needed, and generally they kept a decent amount on hand, though most didn't prefer the jerky if given choice. It wasn't seasoned like store bought jerky, but salted lightly, with a heavy gaminess to it. He also cut him off a bit of stored fat because he was thin, and honestly Lofgren didn't have a clue what humans ate on a regular basis. The fat was aged, a darker color on the outside, white where it had been cut away. Suitable enough, at least in Lofgren's opinion. He'd said he wasn't picky.<br/><br/>Lofgren started to head back inside, content to allow whatever this was to continue, at least for now. It wasn't everyday that a situation like this created itself, and so he didn't want it to be over too quickly. He'd drag this out for as long as he could. Hopefully the human proved less fragile than he always thought them to be.