Wyren rolls his eyes at the man, crazy going slowly as he is. He'd heard of people going insane from solitude. How could solitude not reinforce your sense of self and your will to be? It was only the weak-minded who found isolation a trouble unless they were facing overwhelming odds. Wyren liked those times. They were where you earned glory and honor in the field of battle.<br/><br/>At least preparations were in order. He hoped that the grippli would not spook the horses with his nature or his flying carpet, and he also hoped the horse would not be too small for Sweetwater, whose hand was now on his shoulder. It hadn't come as a surprise thankfully or he might have stabbed it with an arrow. "Yes, but people who think that way are the ones who agree that any battle you walk away from is a victory." He headed out the doorway and into the outpost proper, eyes surveying the surroundings and heading slowly towards the stables. It would be just like them to have three horses and a donkey and he wasn't about to be the last pick.