"I guess I was a forager, like you. I tried to stay north, but there's just nothing up there, so I had to come down here. I mean, obviously, I like to be where it's cold, but I can only eat plants and stuff. Nothing you have to cook. I can't be around a fire long enough to even get one going, much less cook something." He stared at his burnt hand. It was starting to become a habit.<br/><br/>"I don't really remember my parents. I think they died when I was little. But I was okay for a while. I learned to control my powers on my own, and now no one can mess with me. I learned a lot of stuff from books. I found an old library once, and I just stayed there for months. There was a well, but... not like the one here. It was safe, and I stayed there until it ran dry, learning from all the books that hadn't burned up." He'd survived on edible moss and mushrooms that seemed to thrive on moldy books.<br/><br/>"Anyway, when they got me, I was trying to hunt. I don't know what I would have done with it once I caught it, but I thought I could figure something out. It was a deer, and I was just about to kill it when they got me. I guess they probably killed the deer too. Maybe it was back there. Then again, the thing in the well probably got all those guys, so we probably wouldn't want it now anyway."<br/><br/>Sharing their stories hadn't really provided the comfort he'd been looking for. He chewed on another root, thinking. There were more questions to answer. Despite their incompatibility, he liked Lina well enough, and thought that so long as they kept their distance, they might be able to help each other.<br/><br/>"So, what do we do now?"