"What peace is to be made?" Noel questioned, he did not need to eat, but he did love the taste of a finely prepared stew. He felt no aggression in the group so much as anxiety and insecurity. His gaze wandered, the women had left to hunt, and the men stood around, waiting for their return, what an odd sort of pack they were. It left a warm, if somewhat insulting smile on his face. Noel wandered the clearing, inspecting stumps and logs, looking for a good place to sit, and rest. Ultimately, he decided on a low log, that crumbled slightly as he sat.<br/><br/>"I see no reason to not accept what generosity the shifter offers. It's not as though she can poison us." He attempted to sound comforting, but sounded ignorant instead. "Though my youth withers on occasion I'd like to think at least a century anyone here's senior, that I am more than capable of caring for myself." He smiled, and waved his hand as if to shoo away a flying insect. "Besides, it's not as though any of us are so powerful that allies are not welcome, even in these... less than hospitable times." His smile never failing, but wavering slightly when trying to think of a kind way to state the obvious lack of comradeship that was present since the shade king took hold.