Geraint left his armor and most of his weapons behind.  The weapon he brought was a black powder revolver, an ancient gun of blued steel, each cylinder loaded by hand, and loaded with silver.  The witches forbid such weapons, but Geraint was an exception, as he was in many things - the damned cannot be twice damned - and he didn't flaunt the weapon.  But if Vara turned on him, it would be nice to have.<br/><br/>He followed easily, practiced in woodcraft.  He was slightly surprised when she didn't lead him into a trap.<br/><br/>When she started to undress, he crouched and watched her, making no move to undress himself.  He wore a bit of a smile.  "It works better if we wash up before we put it on, like, in a stream or something like that.  But, please, keep getting naked.  I could watch that all day.<br/><br/>"That's me, Mr. Stay Quiet.  That's my best thing.  But what's to worry about?  Like you said, thousands of humans.  Even if they recognize you, so what?  I'm just your friend or whatever."  Though if they were human, he would lay his power on them.  He wasn't worried about humans, not about any humans, with any weapons.  At the same time, watching her, he was reaching out with his gifts.  The wood was strange, but there were plenty of beasts, and he stirred them, made of them sentries and, if necessary, sacrifices.  When his mind passed over prey, though, it started, acted queer, and would be skittish for some time - but few people paid close attention to the moods of drays and donkeys.