This close to the dragontaur, Kathrine could easily see the discoloration on his neck, right where his voice box would have been. Judging from the extensive scar tissue, she would guess something had ripped his throat open, but he had somehow survived the blow without clerical healing, perhaps by just being too stubborn to die.<br/><br/>His gaze at her was bland, until she spoke of sharing words, before a flash of anger rolled across his face, quickly dismissed. He shrugged, but turned his body to her, indicating that she had his attention. His movement spooked the horse the Blacksmith was working with, and he snarled a curse at Ancalagon as he dodged a kick, before leading the skittish horse out of the forge, into the court outside of the forge.